Monday

John 12:1-11; Isaiah 42:1-9

The reading from John’s Gospel for Monday of Holy Week revisits the story of the unnamed woman with the alabaster jar.  In John’s version of the story, she takes a pound of expensive perfume and anoints Jesus’ feet with it, then wipes his feet with her hair.  Her action claims unequivocally that the first part of the prophecy in Isaiah 42 has been fulfilled in Jesus.  

The story works as a metaphor, but not as literal “gospel truth.”

Isaiah introduces God’s extraordinary servant in this first of the “servant songs”:

Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.  He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.  He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.  

Three times, God says his servant will bring justice, and while it will come with non-violence, and without fanfare, it will come nevertheless with power.  Whether these verses are meant to refer to the collective nation of ancient Israel or to a specific person, the mandate is unmistakable: the servant is a partner with God in establishing God’s justice, and “the coastlands” – the earth within its coastal boundaries – actively wait – anticipate – look forward to hearing – whatever the servant has to teach.  

How is justice brought forth with power and without violence?  

The “people” – the anawim – the poor and disenfranchised –  demand justice because they live with injustice daily.  The rich – the privileged – and ones who control access to power – are the ones most easily corrupted by the power they hold.  But any human being is susceptible to the corruption of political, social, economic, and personal power systems that lead seemingly inevitably to the normalcy of civilization, where power-over, getting even, and retribution, are the definitions of the only power that makes a difference.  This is the trap Judas found himself in.  The only way he could see to ensure his own survival was to turn Jesus in to the collaborators with Roman authority.  He is outraged by the unnamed woman’s extravagant waste of a commodity that could have been sold and the money given to the poor.  But such money never brings God’s distributive justice.  It merely continues to buy into the normal systems that keep injustice and violence in place.  As Jesus says, “You always have the poor with you.”

Isaiah’s servant models a new kind of power that brings God’s justice-compassion.  Suddenly there is no threat of retributive mayhem or payback, and the universe – perhaps weary of the constant bombardment of human unwillingness to live in trust and wholeness – is waiting for that teaching.

“Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it. . .”

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