Senior Sermon at Wartburg Seminary

Sermon

Date: Monday of Holy Week 4/28

Location: Loehe Chapel, Wartburg Seminary

Text: John 12.1-11

In the Simpsons episode “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” Homer finds himself on a tour of the Springfield Shopper, the local newspaper, as a chaperone for his son Bart’s class. While on the tour Homer gets distracted by a smell. “Hey, I smell cake! Cake that says [sniffs air] farewell and [sniffs again] best wishes!” To this Bart’s friend Nelson says, “Your old man has an awesome nose.” Bart responds, “Oh, that's nothing. He can hear pudding.”

Scent; It is one the least talked about senses yet often has the largest effect. Smells can instantly throw us back in memory. There are places that imprint themselves in our memory, a whiff bringing them to mind. I can walk into the chapel here and feel the presence of people past and present, in the smell of hymnals, of many years of candles, wine and bread, in the aroma of water upon my forehead.

It was only a 20 minute experience, but I still can smell a certain stop on a trip to California. My family and I were driving to California and had stopped in Colorado for a sightseeing drive. It happened however to be cicada season and they were covering the road that we drove on. I still have this memory of beautiful colored sandstone landscapes stretching to the horizon, puffs of cloud creating patches of shadow scurrying across the landscape, and the wretched, wretched stench of dead bugs, popping under the warm tires of our rented van.

There was the time that I was cleaning a fridge in my last year in Ames and found an old butter container and I made that most horrendous of decisions, I opened the container. I looked at it. And, I smelled it. I at least did not pass out, but I know that I coughed and wretched for a while.

I remember the smell of my grandparents, now my uncle’s, farm in northwest Iowa. The house smelling of a mix of straw, dirt, cows, well-lived in rooms, and my grandmother’s cooking. Getting together with the entire family eating my grandma’s fried pancakes. Soft on the inside, with crunchy edges. The smell of love and togetherness filling the room.

But that togetherness does not last forever. My great grandmother who I picture at the head of that table died many years ago. My grandmother and grandfather no longer live on the farm, my grandmother now in town and my grandfather recently moved into a nursing home after complications of numerous strokes and the onset of Alzheimer’s.

Our togetherness here at Wartburg is also constantly changing. This day we gather together at the beginning of Holy Week, preparing ourselves for the great three days. But, on these most Holy of Days, in our life together as this community, there is a sense of separation. It could be temporary separation from this community as we travel, worshiping in our own places and in our own ways in the days to come. We also have a sense of permanent separation amongst our community as we remember those who have died, aware of how vast that separation feels. Awareness of the anxiety and grief that is in the forefront of all our minds cannot be overlooked.

It is the beginning of Holy Week, with the annunciation just past us. It is at this time that we find a simple text. This simple text sends us on the journey of this week. In this text we are connected with Christ’s birth, service, death, resurrection and ascension. In pushing us into this week we see a true understanding of the cross of Christ. In the midst of our separation, anguish, and sorrow we see Christ coming deep, deep, down to us. This simple text shows us comfort, joy, and peace.

As it begins we have the announcement that the week of Passover is beginning and Jesus travels to Bethany, a town nearby Jerusalem. We see Mary anoint Jesus with perfume. We see Judas declare to Jesus that Mary should not have done this and should have sold the perfume for money. We see Jesus foretell of his death, saying that he will not always be with them. We hear of the chief priests plans to kill Lazarus as well as Jesus.

It would be easy to look as this text and say that we should not be stingy in our giving to the church. Or that it is fine to spend stuff on our own and that we do not have to necessarily be concerned with the poor.

But to do so would overlook part of our text. To read our text like that would ignore the week in which it finds itself.

Just as the great Three Days are one service not complete without the rest, each day of Holy Week is not complete unto itself. To understand the day, we must journey through the week. To understand the rest of this week we must understand this day. To understand this text we must not stop here but look deeper.

“Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”

In this moment of the house filling with the fragrance of the perfume, we have the moment of Christ’s death and resurrection brought to the fore. It is that fragrance that follows Jesus on his journey to his death. The fragrance of Christ’s anointing is the smell of Maundy Thursday, the scent of Good Friday. That scent is on the feet that washed the disciple’s feet; it is on the feet that walked to the cross, the feet pierced by nails.

The smell of that perfume holds our attention. How often is it that a scent can be so captivating?

In a strip of Calvin and Hobbes, Calvin tells Hobbes. "You know how everyone says you should stop and smell the roses? Well, this morning I did. Big deal! They smelled like a bunch of dumb flowers! It was the most mundane experience I've ever had! Who's got time for this nonsense? I'm a busy guy! I've got things to do! The last thing I need is to stand around with my nose in some silly plant!" Hobbes: "I'm glad you somehow found the time for this edifying conversation." Calvin: "Yeah, well, I'm going to have to wrap it up. My TV show is about to start."

We are like Calvin most of the time. We are caught up with what we have to do, where we have to go, what our future will hold. In our fear over separation we forget Christ’s unity. In our grief over loss we can miss the scent of that anointing.

We do not let the power of scent work in our lives. We do not take the time to smell and remember. In the anxiety, trepidation, fear and anguish that fills this community, we miss the aroma of Christ that also fills this place.

A Sufi Muslim, Shaikh Kabir Helminski, in an essay in response to September 11 used the repeated refrain, “Breathe, and remember God.” In response to one of the great tragedies of our time, he asked to breathe, pause and remember the God who loves us.

This week breathe, and smell the perfume of Christ’s anointing and how it brings us together.

This Maundy Thursday breathe, and smell the perfume of Christ’s anointing as it mixes with the cool water washing our feet. Breathe and smell the perfume of Christ’s anointing as it intermingles with the crisp smell of the wine, the warm comfort of the bread.

This Good Friday breathe, and smell the perfume of Christ’s anointing as it intertwines with the natural and primal smell of the wood of the cross; the acidic, mineral smell of the blood of Christ.

In the Easter Vigil, breathe and smell the perfume of Christ’s anointing as it enters the cool freshness of baptismal water; the scent of Christ’s resurrection washing our death away.

Breathe, and know that the perfume of Christ’s anointing fills not only that room, but through his death and resurrection has filled the world. Breathe and know that we are already covered with that calming, peaceful fragrance.

As we think of all those who are separated from us, whether by distance, conflict, or death, the aroma that wafts from this week connects us to them. That peaceful fragrance covers us, comforts us, and unites us.

This week, remember God, and breathe.