Jack Hardaway
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Names and stories. They carry each other along.
We have this old family Bible that is full of names, from the 1830s to the 1940’s, births, deaths, children, random family tree branches wandering off the edge of the brittle pages.
Died in barn fire, died in Panama working on the canal, died in Korea.
Names and stories.
Mary Martha Hardaway. Born on October 18 1918, daughter of J.B. Hardaway.
My great aunt.
Her birth scribbled into the margins of the page, and then a few pages over, on the deceased page her name again, Mary Martha, February 9 1925. Six years old. The family memory has grown vague about the details of her death, probably scarlet fever.
We have another little book of random quotes from the childhood of Mary Martha, and her two brothers, written by my great grandmother, Kathreen.
Mary Martha has only one quote in the book, she had hurt her lips and said, “Oh mother my lips are leaking.”
A name, bits of a story, the love for her still carries across almost a century.
Mary Martha. That name always comes back to mind when we hear the gospel stories about Jesus’ close friends: Mary, Martha and Lazarus. The two sisters whose names my great aunt carried. All those names have stories.
Mary who sat at Jesus feet and listened.
Martha who served and was upset Mary didn’t help.
Lazarus, whom, Jesus raised from the dead.
And today we hear about them again.
Martha is still serving.
Lazarus is still raised from the dead.
And this time Mary does something.
Rather than sitting at his feet, Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with a wildly extravagant amount of extremely costly perfume, pure nard, the fragrance is overwhelming, and she wipes his feet with her hair.
A name, a bit of a story, the love still carries across the millennia.
And Judas, who didn’t approve, wanting the money for the poor but really for himself. His name carries across time as well.
We are in John’s Gospel today, Luke is set aside for a week, the fifth Sunday of Lent we always go back to John, and hear about events foreshadowing Jesus’ death while he is with Phillip, or Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus. Today is always a Sunday of adoration and ominous portent.
John’s gospel is many things, mystical poetry, long teachings about the intimacy of Jesus with the Father and the Holy Spirit, who is also called the Companion, the Comforter and the Advocate.
But it is mostly about names and stories.
Personal encounter after personal encounter with Jesus. That turn of phrase, “A personal relationship with Jesus Christ.” That idea and experience comes from the personal encounters in John’s gospel.
Names and stories touching one another, and the love and the tragedy carry across time, inviting us to that same personal encounter with Jesus, intimacy, love, and adoration.
Mary and Judas are paired off against each other today, two opposites, two different encounters with the holiness of God caressing the world in Jesus.
Mary’s adoration and love is over the top.
At first her sister Martha tells her to stop, and Jesus tells Martha to stop.
And now Judas does the same thing, and again Jesus shields Mary’s love and grief, telling Judas to leave her alone.
Mary is the example for us.
Mary knew the time was short, she was preparing Jesus for a nightmare that could not be stopped, she anointed him for death, and washed his feet with her hair.
An extravagant all-consuming love. Heart breaking, beautiful, too intimate and embarrassing to witness, a love that puts the rest of us to shame for loving so poorly. She is the example, the exemplar, the revealer of what it is like to follow Jesus.
It broke Judas. And when Jesus did the same thing, washing the disciples’ feet, showing Judas that Jesus sided with Mary, about loving with undignified reckless abandonment, Judas left for good, setting the passion in motion.
It is ironic. Mary’s over the top love preparing Jesus for death, it drove Judas to have Jesus killed.
Love broke Judas. The devil had twisted him. It was too much. Too much love.
So what’s in a name?
Names and stories. Love. Love that carries across centuries, across millennia, across death, and carries us into an intimacy with God and one another in which we are born again.
Jesus.
The name that carries us.
The name that anoints us with the Love that breaks us and makes us whole all at once.
The fragrance fills the house.
Our names.
Our stories.
The personal encounter with the God whose holiness caresses our world, whose love is stronger than death.
Choose Love.
That is the story of their names. The names of Mary, Martha, Lazarus, Judas and Jesus.
Choose Love.