April 6, 2025
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Philippians 3:4b-14
John 12:1-8
(The context of this sermon was 100% written
in Canada by a human)
Let me present you with an ethical scenario: You are walking by the Rideau River one day, and out in the water, you see a drowning child. You are a strong swimmer and able to rescue this child with little trouble, and no risk to yourself. But you are wearing a brand new pair of expensive hoes that would be ruined if you did. So what’s your decision? Of course, we would all say, you forget the shoes and rush in and save the child. Any other decision would be terrible. You could never compare a child’s life to a pair of shoes!
This scenario was first posed by ethicist Peter Singer. He went on to ask: would it make any difference if the child was far away, but we were equally able to save them? When he posed this question to his students, they were emphatic: most said it would make no difference.
And yet, we make this kind of judgement call – almost each and every day. As the haves in a world of have-nots, we make the choice to save our shoes and leave the child to drown. Or, as it happens, to leave the child to starve, to not become educated, to be orphaned or to live in squalor. Every day, we choose what to spend our money on – those metaphorical shoes or the drowning child – and choose we do. Even though, as Professor Singer pointed out, appetite for fast fashion, new kitchens, and shiny cars pales in significance to the plight of the Ukrainian parents whose children have been stolen by Russia, and the immigrant students being summarily arrested on the streets in the United States, the unhoused people we pass by in downtown Ottawa.
But then this morning, we have this confusing gospel. Jesus has arrived at the home of Lazarus, and in that evening, Mary comes and uses a fancy perfume to anoint Jesus’s feet and dry them with her hair. In our context, this is a weird thing to do; back then, in a time of sandals and rough roads and long walking distances, anointing feet was a sign of hospitality for a travelling guest.
Judas, hardly the best advocate for the poor, is in a snit about it. He argues that perfume should be used for the poor. But of course, we know him – it’s all grand-standing. He’s a thief, we are told: one who was in charge of the common purse of the group and regularly pilfered from it. (How this could be known by our gospel author, we shall not question for these purposes.) So Judas is playing a game: perhaps he would take the perfume to be stolen and keep a bit for himself. Jesus, however, doesn’t agree: “She bought it for my burial,” he says. “You will always have the poor, but you will not always have me.”
What are we to make of this? On the one side, we could say that his fan club attention has puffed up Jesus a bit too much. On the other hand, doesn’t the caregiver also deserve some care? Carefully note what Jesus says to Judas: He points out that Mary has purchased the perfume to keep it for the day of burial. She is using just a little now, while Jesus may enjoy it still. And once he has been tried as a criminal, sentenced to death, with most of his allies in hiding, who else will ensure he receives the proper rituals of death, but someone like Martha and her family, who have made provisions.
The lesson for us, then, is one of perspective. This is a view that even Prof. Singer points out: An ethical approach to life does not forbid having fun or enjoying food and wine; but it changes our sense of priorities. We might question where our focus lies, and what we are not doing. We may reconsider what benefit comes from earning ever more money and collecting a larger pile of possessions. We may ask ourselves: what is our life worth? And simultaneously, as Singer proposed, we must also ask: What makes us feel fulfilled? What brings us a sense of accomplishment and peace? Perhaps, he suggests, those two sets of questions are not that far apart. “An ethical life,” he writes, “is one in which we identify ourselves with other, larger, goals, thereby giving meaning to our lives.”
We only have a few weeks left of Lent. Hopefully, you have maintained your discipline. But that only matters, of course, if that act of reflection has helped you clear space within yourself for something new and life-giving. We might think of Lent as the time when we all consider our ethics: What do we accept to be true? What do we reject? How do those answers shape our lives? We may frame those answers against the gospel, the ultimate manual for the ethical, Godly life. But its directions, kindness, love, and charity come with complexity. If our time and our resources are finite, for whom do we prioritize our love and charity? And is it okay to get those lovely new shoes we found online?
I suspect Jesus would say yes, and no. The gospel is not meant to make life so harsh that we take no enjoyment from it. If, however, we are only buying shoes, and never using our relative advantage to save lives, we know we are serving only ourselves.
Last weekend, I was present for a debate about whether to cancel our Out of the Cold rotation because of a looming ice storm. I found this difficult to hear. Serving the gospel requires sacrifice and risk. How could travel issues from our own warm and comfortable homes come before the hungry and cold people living outside in that same ice storm? And yet, my faith was restored by all of you: Given the number of volunteers who came out last Saturday, we all knew the right answer. My thanks to all of you who served so kindly and lovingly. I heard from many grateful clients about the warmth of their reception.
Once is not enough, as we know. Already, in that kitchen, plans were afoot to do more. And as Prof. Singer sagely notes, by giving to others, by saving the child in danger, we are giving back to ourselves a life of purpose and joy. In doing the right thing, we give ourselves happiness. The gospel is clear about this. Jesus’s life and death are concrete examples of this. Not only is the child saved from drowning, not only is the spirit of the weary stranger fed, not only is the world changed for the better - but so are we.
Amen.