Extravagant Hospitality
The story in today’s gospel has the distinction of appearing in all four gospels.
Not many stories have versions in all four gospels.
The feeding of the 5,000 is one.
Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and the events of Holy Week—Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection—are another.
And then there is this odd little story about the woman anointing Jesus.
There are disagreements between the gospel accounts about whose house the anointing took place at, which woman did the actual anointing, and who objected to the use of expensive perfume.
But in every gospel account, a woman anoints Jesus, there is criticism, and Jesus dismisses the criticism.
When a story appears in all four gospels, I believe that’s an indication to us that the story is important—and perhaps there’s something very unique about it that distinguishes it from other stories.
There are two primary functions of anointing in first century Judea.
One is to honor a king—or Messiah.
The other is to prepare a body for burial.
We can’t say whether the woman in all the gospel accounts was doing one or the other—or both.
But certainly, both functions were applicable.
Jesus was the Messiah—the Anointed One.
Anointing him after all that had transpired—his baptism, the transfiguration, and all his signs and wonders—anointing him after all that may have been redundant.
But it was an honor that no one else had thought to offer Jesus.
In fact, to hammer home that point Jesus tells a parable in Luke’s account of the story.
Jesus said, “Two people owed money to a creditor.
One owed the creditor the equivalent of two years’ wages; the other, two months’ wages.
Both were unable to pay, so the creditor wrote off both debts.
Which of them was more grateful to the moneylender?”
Simon answered, “I suppose the one who owed more.”
Jesus said, “You are right.”
Turning to the woman, he said to Simon, “See this woman? I came into your house and you gave me no water to wash my feet, but she has washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair.
You gave me no kiss of greeting, but she covered my feet with kisses.
You didn’t anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with oil.
For this reason, I tell you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven—see how much she loves!
But the one who is forgiven little, loves little.”
So, certainly, Jesus appears to have appreciated the gesture.
Luke goes so far as to incorporate repentance and forgiveness into the woman’s action.
That dimension is absent from today’s lesson from John.
But Jesus raises up the woman who has fallen at his feet.
That is the essence of the Kin-dom of God.
The lowly are raised to high places.
The mighty are deposed from their thrones.
The hungry are filled with good things.
And the rich are sent away empty.
Jesus raises up the woman who anoints him as an example of extravagant hospitality.
She cleans his feet and anoints him.
And she does this as an act of love.
We talk a lot about Jesus’ practice of radical inclusion.
What I think we sometimes miss is the need for extravagant hospitality.
Extravagant hospitality is how we take our words of welcome and translate them into actions.
In the church’s journey to LGBTQ+ acceptance, Anthony Venn-Brown, an Australian evangelist, says that churches go through four stages.
The first stage is anti-LGBTQ+, where the church condemns queer folks as sinful.
In the second stage, the church welcomes queer folks but prays for God to change them.
In the third stage, the church accepts queer folks but doesn’t understand them and just leaves the issue up to God’s grace.
In the final stage, the church affirms queer folks and proclaims the rich diversity of God’s Kin-dom.
I would argue that, while we may display hospitality in stages two and three, that hospitality doesn’t become extravagant until stage four.
So, what does extravagant hospitality look like?
In today’s gospel, it looks like washing someone’s feet, drying those feet with our hair, and then anointing those feet with perfume.
We don’t really have a cultural equivalent to foot washing.
In Jesus’ time, where roads were unpaved and sandals were the norm for footwear, foot washing was a common ritual.
But, because of this story of Mary washing Jesus’ feet and then Jesus repeating the ritual with his disciples, foot washing has become a tradition on Maundy Thursday.
However, because it is a ritual with no modern equivalent, the focus for many of us becomes entirely about humility.
To be sure, humility is an important dimension to the ritual.
But it is not the only dimension.
In today’s lesson from Isaiah, we hear God say, “Look, I am doing something new!”
In fact, Jesus is indeed doing new things.
Throughout his ministry, he has been proclaiming the Kin-dom of God—a kingdom unlike any other.
A kingdom where power means nothing and love means everything.
In two of the four accounts, Jesus had just performed a resurrection.
In Luke, he has just raised the son of the widow of Nain.
In John, he has just raised Lazarus.
He is on his way to Jerusalem—a journey from which Jesus knows there is no turning back.
And the anointing is also part of this “new thing”—his suffering and his death.
The anointing prepares his body for his eventual burial.
So, Jesus is indeed doing new things.
Paul writes, “I’m running the race in order to grab hold of the prize if possible, since Christ Jesus has grabbed hold of me.
Siblings, I don’t think of myself as having reached the finish line.
I give no thought to what lies behind, but I push on to what is ahead.
My entire attention is on the finish line as I run toward the prize—the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.”
Paul’s life was changed on the road to Damascus.
Through Christ, he is doing a new thing.
The prize—the finish line—is the Kin-dom of God.
And, as Paul is rightly pointing out, this enterprise of the Kin-dom is a journey.
He likens it to running a race—a race, mind you, where he may never reach the finish line.
This enterprise of the Kin-dom is about co-creating a community with God.
A just community where all God’s children have enough.
Where no one is hungry.
No one is homeless.
No one is marginalized or oppressed.
And one of the earmarks of the Kin-dom is extravagant hospitality.
So, perhaps God is inviting us to consider how we show extravagant hospitality.
Me, I’m a hugger.
But that can sometimes be challenging in these times of social distancing and respecting personal space.
But I confess that, up to this point, I haven’t thought of hugging people in terms of hospitality.
For me, it’s more of an expression of joy at seeing someone from my community—my family.
But I think I may, as a new spiritual practice, use it as an opportunity to remember Mary washing Jesus’ feet—and Jesus washing the disciples’ feet.
Much the same way as I now try to remember my baptism when I dip my fingers in the font.
I think it’s a worthwhile exercise for each of us to ask ourselves how we show extravagant hospitality.
And I think it’s a good spiritual practice to pause and reflect for a moment on Mary—and Jesus—and their actions of extravagant hospitality.
Because extravagant hospitality changes relationships—and communities.
In closing, and perhaps in preparation for Holy Week, I’d like to point out that, in both Luke and John, the woman anoints Jesus’ feet.
Typically, it is a king’s head that is anointed—and that is precisely what happens in Matthew and Mark.
I would argue that the significance is that Jesus is a different kind of king.
Not a king of pomp and circumstance.
But a king of humility.
A king of liberation.
A king that restores people from exile and welcomes them home.
A king who enters triumphantly on a colt, not a warhorse.
A king with anointed feet, not an anointed head.
A servant king.
One who would gladly wash our feet—or just hug us—to say, “You are welcome here.
I am overjoyed that you are here.”
Let us heed Jesus’ command to “go and do likewise”, offering extravagant welcome to all who enter this community.
May this meditation on God’s word keep our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus. Amen.