Mt 26:1-16 – Judas’ story and Mary’s story – sermon notes
Text: Matthew 26:1-16
[Note: these are notes of a sermon preached in two parts, separated by a time of reflection and confession. As you will see, each half was delivered using a 1st-person perspective.]
Judas’ Story
I heard it with my very ears: “In two days’ time, I’m gong to be handed over to be crucified.”
A criminal’s death. The cruelest and most degrading form of death.
He’d said such things before, of course: ‘[that] he must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.’
Peter had very sensibly tried to talk him out of it. This time it sounded real. Two days’ time! And we’re getting nearer and nearer to Jerusalem.
In fact, we’re just 2 miles down the road, in Bethany, in the home of Simon, Lazarus, Martha and Mary.
Right there, in the middle of supper, Mary comes up behind Jesus. Jar – breaks open – pours. Sight, sound, smell. Of course, I spoke up. “That could have been sold, and the money given to the poor. What a waste!” And all the others agreed.
Then Jesus mutters something about being anointed for burial, I think, “You really are serious.”
So I make up my mind: “Get out while you can, Judas. So he’s got a death-wish, has he? Well, if he’s determined to jump, let’s give him a little push. Turn him over to the authorities, and see if you can make a little profit.”
So I take myself along to the Chief Priests. I know they wouldn’t arrest him in broad daylight, in full view of the crowd. So I offer to identify him for them quietly, secretly. What’s it worth? Thirty denarii. One months’ wages, for a few second’s work.
Why did I do it?
(a) Bitter disappointment. I’d pinned my hopes on him. We thought he was going to be the one who would free us from these tyrannical Romans. Messiah? Sorry – wrong kind of Messiah.
(b) Recouping my losses. I deserve something back. I’d given up everything for three years. I’ll see what I can get out of this desperate situation. That woman should have given her precious heiloom to me. I would have sold and given the proceeds to charity, all right. ‘Charity begins at home’, doesn’t it?
(c) Being on the winning side. Who wants to side with a loser? This woman can if she wants to. But it’s clear that the powers that be have the upper hand. If you can’t beat them, join them. It’s getting a bit lonely being in his team. I’ll switch to the winning side.
I’m no saint, but neither am I a monster. I’m more like you than you would care to admit. Have you never felt disappointed with Jesus? Have you never thought about walking away? Have you never considered looking after number one for a while? Have you never wanted to start going with the flow, rather than constantly swimming against the tide?
Well, under the circumstances, what would you have done?
Mary’s Story
I heard it with my very ears: “In two days’ time, I’m gong to be handed over to be crucified.”
A criminal’s death. The cruelest and most degrading form of death.
He’d said such things before, of course: ‘[that] he must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.’
Peter had tried to talk him out of it. This time it sounded real. Two days’ time!
Jesus and his disciples were gathered around the meal table at our home in Bethany, just 2 miles down the road from Jerusalem.
Right there, in the middle of supper, I make up my mind, “Now or never.”
I ask myself, “What’s the most precious thing I have?” Immediately, I think of this family heirloom – a little jar of nard. I come up behind Jesus with it.
I break open the jar, and pour the oil over his head. It covers his beard, and then runs down onto his robe. The whole room is filled with the fragrance. Then come a chorus of disapproval – “What a waste! That’s a year’s wages poured away! That money could have been given to the poor”. Imagine how I felt!
I didn’t know how to answer them. But the Master did. “There are some things – like giving to the poor – that can be done at any time. But other things can only be done once, at a particular moment. She has done a beautiful thing.”
Why did I do it?
(a) To express my love. Had he not befriended me, and my sister Martha, and our brother Lazarus? Had he not graced our home as an honoured guest, filling it with the most loving of words and actions? Had he not restored Lazarus to life? Now he was going to give his very life.
(b) To prepared him for burial. I had heard him say that he must be crucified. And I thought: “He won’t even get a decent burial. I’ll do it now”. “When she poured perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial.”
(c) To anoint him as Messiah. I didn’t really understand it at the time, but I reflect now on the events that unfolded over the next few days: Jesus entered Jerusalem as king, the high priest questioned him about being the Messiah, he was crucified as ‘King of the Jews’, he was mocked as ‘Christ, the King of Israel’, and even his executioner said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!”
As I look back on those momentous few days, it seemed that everything was spinning out of control. Things looked utterly bleak. Evil had the upper hand. And yet Jesus resolutely goes forward. He would often say, “I must” do this or that. He knew that he must be in that place – Jerusalem, at that time – Passover. Even the treacherous plots of Judas and the chief priests could not do anything but work out God’s will.
There’s one more thing that I often reflect on. Jesus said, “Wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” Somehow, his death will not be the end. Little did I know when I broke that alabaster jar and poured that oil over his head, that my little story would be told along with the big story of Jesus and his love for generations to come.
And so I learned that nothing done for Jesus is ever wasted or forgotten.
Well, under the circumstances, what would you have done?