Lectionary Commentaries for April 6, 2025
Fifth Sunday in Lent

The opening scene in John 12 boldly claims the enduring power of life and love in the face of death and hostility. The author is careful to name all three siblings at the heart of the previous chapter: Mary, Martha, and the formerly dead Lazarus. The anticipated stench of death in chapter 11 is now replaced with the extravagant perfume of Mary’s grateful devotion. But death is not yet finished. The leaders are plotting to kill Jesus (11:45–53). They are also planning to put Lazarus back into a tomb (12:9–11). Surrounded by these movements toward death, we find this celebration of the life that Jesus has given.

Mary’s actions are the center of attention here, but we should not ignore the other siblings. Martha is described as “serving,” as a disciple of Jesus should (12:26). Lazarus is described as “reclining” with Jesus at the table, a description that reappears in 13:23 to describe “the disciple whom Jesus loved” at the last meal. All three siblings have been transformed by Jesus into faithful disciples. Yet it is Mary’s action that is the focus of wonder and scandal. She is at Jesus’ feet as she was in 11:32, but the grief (and anger?) of that previous scene is now replaced with overflowing gratitude.

One of the challenges of preaching this passage is that hearers and preachers may confuse it with accounts from the Synoptic Gospels. The author of this Gospel seems to have known and drawn on other stories about a woman anointing Jesus, but we need to be careful not to conflate this story with similar scenes in the other Gospels:

Except for the story in Luke, all these accounts include Jesus declaring that this anointing has been for his upcoming burial. This claim takes on an added dimension in John’s account because Jesus has just raised Mary’s own brother from the tomb, undoing that burial. Without denying the reality of the upcoming death, Mary’s presence here also points to the upcoming resurrection. She knows the brutality of death, but she also knows that the grave cannot hold against Jesus.

It is a bit surprising that Mary anoints not Jesus’ head (as in Matthew 26:7 and Mark 14:3) but his feet. As Culpepper notes, Jesus will enter Jerusalem as the Anointed One, but anointed not on his head, as was expected for a king, but on his feet. He is anointed not by the high priest but by a woman.¹ Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and his identity as Messiah will not fit neatly into any preconceived expectations.

Even though Mary’s action here is not described as “washing” Jesus’ feet, we should see her as an image of the discipleship and the love that Jesus will model and command for his followers as he washes their feet in John 13. The verb for “wiping” the feet is used in John to describe only these two scenes (12:3; 13:5). Mary engages in this kind of service even before the command is given. “The power of the witness of Mary’s discipleship in this story is that she knows how to respond to Jesus without being told. She fulfills Jesus’ love commandment before he even teaches it.”²

Mary pours out about a year’s salary onto Jesus’ feet. She pours it all out, withholding nothing. Indeed, there is so much ointment that she needs to soak some of it up with her hair. No wonder Judas is shocked by the “waste.” Mary has to remove some of the very expensive ointment that she had just poured out. She does not put it back into the bottle but will now carry her act of discipleship with her on her own body.

Mary is the image of faith just as Judas is the image of unfaithful deceit. On the surface, Judas seems to have a good point. He taps into the deep biblical concern for the poor, but the author indicates that Judas does this only because he would like to line his own pockets with some of those denarii. It would not be difficult to come up with current examples (religious, political, and commercial) of those who claim to be on the side of the poor while actually siphoning resources away from them. In the end, even characterizing Judas as a thief is not enough for this Gospel writer to account for his betrayal of Jesus, though it does point us ahead and prepare us for how the devil will possess Judas and set in motion that act (13:27).

Too often Jesus’ reply to Judas in verse 8 has become an excuse for not trying to do more (or anything at all) to alleviate poverty or help the poor. That is hardly Jesus’ point. If Judas cares so much about the poor, he will have plenty of opportunity to show that with the same kind of surprising dedication Mary has shown to Jesus. The same is true for us (note that the “you” in verse 8 is plural). Yet such work can often seem futile. How can our meager efforts work any real change?

Mary may lead the way for us. Her action had greater meaning than she probably realized. It was loving and extravagant, but its meaning is finally given by how Jesus takes it up and makes it a part of his own mission. Because of the life that is ours through Jesus’ death, our actions too may be taken up into God’s purposes and so be filled with worth and meaning beyond the waste they sometimes seem to be.

Notes

1. R. Alan Culpepper, The Gospel and the Letters of John (Nashville: Abington, 1998), 193.
2. Gail R. O’Day, “The Gospel of John,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 9 (Nashville: Abingdon, 1995), 703.

“There is nothing new under the sun,” says the wise Teacher. “History repeats itself.” These are adages reminding us that epochs of history are almost cyclical with the rise and fall of empires. Wars will come (but never seem to end), inventions will be celebrated and superseded, disasters will befall us and we will rebuild. These and more occur repeatedly with each generation. Without hope and knowledge of what God can and will do, the banality of human existence can overwhelm us as we take stock of all that is happening in our world.

Isaiah 43 is a salvation oracle. It is a text about who God is and what God has done (and will do). It was first addressed to the exilic community who had long accepted and settled into their lot. Lest the people forget, the prophetic voice reminds them of who their God is. God is identified as the one “who … (does something)”¹ three times in the chapter:

• In 43:1, the Lord is the one “who created” and “who formed.”
• In 43:16 (which introduces our lectionary text), the Lord is the one “who makes a way in the sea …” and “who brings out [the enemy] …”
• In 43:25, the Lord is the one “who wipes out our transgressions …”

The salvific acts of God that encompass past, present, and future are encapsulated in Isaiah 43. God has acted because the Lord is “the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior” (verse 3). More importantly, God’s work cannot be understood apart from God’s special relationship with the people. Again, lest the people forget, the prophetic voice reminds them that God has done these things for them because they are precious in God’s sight, are loved by God (verse 4), and are God’s chosen ones (verse 20). They are God’s children, called by God’s name, created and formed by God (verses 6–7). God is in their corner and rooting for them.

Our lectionary text, verses 16–21, is a section set against this larger backdrop. Verse 16 (cited above) unmistakably refers to the exodus tradition, specifically the crossing of the Red Sea in Exodus 14. In that act of liberation and deliverance, God created dry land through sea for the Israelites to pass safely while Pharaoh’s army gave chase on their horses and chariots. The sea waters closed in on the army (after the Israelites had safely crossed the sea), and the prophetic poet recalls that “they are extinguished, quenched like a wick” (verse 17).

This event has become paradigmatic of God’s salvation in the cultural memory of the Israelites. However, the past is a mere prologue to what the Lord is doing now and will do in the future. After evoking memories of the exodus, the prophetic voice charges the people not to remember the former things, nor consider the things of old, because God is doing a new thing (verse 18).

The exodus of the past will not be the only salvific event God’s people can speak about. God’s salvation and liberation for them are continuous and contemporary. The people need not rely on memory; God’s people can speak of their very own present experiences of God’s salvation. “A new thing” is happening here and now for this generation of God’s people.

“A new thing” is also a reminder not to limit God’s salvific acts according to past events. It is often observed that the new thing will be greater than the old. The new thing will also be different. The contrast between the old and the new is the point of this section. God will make a way through the wilderness, and water will spring forth from the most harsh and arid conditions of the landscape. This is the converse of what God had done before—that is, making a dry way through the waters.

Now, the wilderness will be tamed and become habitable. Even the wild animals will receive sustenance and be drawn to honor God. This is reminiscent of a new creation where wild beasts will be tamed and all creation can coexist. In God’s salvation and restoration, our uninhabitable world will be healed and we can thrive.

If we read this section (verses 16–21) as a whole, there is yet another homiletical point. God triumphs over all that causes fear and chaos in our lives, and over all that threatens our existence, be it water, war, or wilderness. The Lord makes a new way. It is a fulfillment of the promise made in 43:2–3:

When you pass through waters, I will be with you,
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

This text reminds us of who God is—our Savior; and of who we are to God—precious and loved. Our present realities might feel like mighty waters or the wilderness, but we can wait in confidence and expectation that God’s salvation is at hand. Remembrance and recollection continually renew our confidence that God is able and mighty. However, such salvific acts do not remain in the past. God continually acts, and a new thing will spring forth.

As the poet says, God’s mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:23). Do we perceive it?

Notes

1. These phrases are translated from substantive participles in Hebrew.

Psalm 126 packs amazing poignancy and power in the space of only six verses.¹ It is the seventh of the Songs of Ascent, all of which are relatively brief and most of which, like Psalm 126, focus attention on Zion (see especially Psalms 122, 125, 128, 129, 132, 133, 134). In all likelihood, the Ascents collection (Psalms 120–134) originated for and was used by pilgrims to Jerusalem (see the Common English Bible’s paraphrastic “A pilgrimage song” instead of “A Song of Ascents”).

While the focus on Zion is clear in verse 1, the psalmist’s perspective on Zion is not. Has the LORD already “restored the fortunes of Zion” (verse 1), as the New Revised Standard Version and most other translations suggest? Or perhaps the restoration of Zion remains a future event, as Robert Alter’s translation suggests: “When the LORD restores Zion’s fortunes, we should be like dreamers.”²

There are other questions too. If God has already restored Zion, what actually happened? The most likely answer is that the phrase “restored the fortunes” refers to the return of exiled Judeans from Babylon to Jerusalem in the years following 539 BCE (see the New International Version, “When the LORD brought back the captives to Zion”; see also the phrase in Deuteronomy 30:3; Jeremiah 30:3, 18; 32:44). I take this perspective to be the most likely. The joyful memory of the return from exile (verses 1–3), followed by the prayer for further restoration (verses 4–6), makes especially good sense in the postexilic era, because the glorious vision of Deutero-Isaiah (Isaiah 40–55; see Isaiah 43:16–21, the Old Testament lesson for the day) eventually gave way to hard historical realities of ongoing difficulties and challenges even after the return to Judah and Jerusalem (see Isaiah 56–66 and the books of Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi).

Memory and hope

The juxtaposition of the joyful celebration of restoration (verses 1–3) and the prayer for further restoration (verses 4–6) not only makes sense in the historical context of the postexilic era (see Psalm 85:1–4 for a similar juxtaposition), but it is also true to life, individually and corporately, then and now. After all, Psalm 126 is not simply a relic of the past; rather, it is a living text, recited regularly by Jews before the prayer after the Sabbath meal and heard by Christians on several occasions, including the fifth Sunday in Lent. Life, then and now, is inevitably and simultaneously a matter of joy and sorrow, of triumph and tragedy, of needs met and new needs that constantly arise. If we are honestly self-aware, we know that never is there a time when we do not need to pray, “Restore our fortunes, O LORD” (verse 4).

In other words, Psalm 126 can be a powerful reminder that the people of God have always lived, and will always live, by both memory and hope. We simultaneously celebrate with joy that “the LORD has done great things for us” (verse 3) and fervently pray, “Restore our fortunes, O LORD” (verse 4).

Living with joy

We have already noted the repetition of “restored the fortunes”/”Restore our fortunes” that opens the two sections of the psalm; there is another impressive repetition that connects the two sections—“shouts of joy” (verses 2, 5, 6; see also “rejoiced” in verse 3 that represents a different Hebrew root). As James L. Mays observes, the “dominant emotional tone” of Psalm 126 is joy; and recognizing the connection between memory and hope, Mays concludes, “The song is about joy remembered and joy anticipated. In both cases the joy is the work of the LORD, in the first through the restoration of Zion and in the second through the renewal of those who sing the song.”³

As suggested above, Jews and Christians are still singing this song! And although Mays does not move in this direction, it seems reasonable to conclude that “joy remembered” and “joy anticipated” yield something like “joy in the present.” In short, the very singing or recitation of Psalm 126 becomes a source of joy, or it at least puts us in touch with the source of enduring joy—that is, the God who “has done great things for us” (verse 3) and to whom we look for renewal. 

If this be the case, then Psalm 126 can be a reminder that suffering and joy are not mutually exclusive. It is a lesson that resonates throughout the canon. The New Testament lesson for the day is Philippians 3:4b–14; Paul wrote this letter from prison to a congregation that faced imminent suffering. And yet Paul says repeatedly that he is joyful, and he encourages the Philippians to be joyful as well (see 4:4). Suffering and joy are not mutually exclusive.

In the video version of REM’s “Everybody Hurts,” shortly after a lone voice sings, “Sometimes everything is wrong,” the following words appear at the bottom of the screen: “Those that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” It’s Psalm 126:5! And the song/video is a helpful presentation of the message of Psalm 126. Yes, “everybody hurts,” but the psalm and song affirm that there is a reality, a presence, a power that invites as well the proclamation, in essence, that “everybody hopes.”

Living as dreamers

It is perhaps easy to see how a past restoration led people to be “like those who dream” (verse 1)—that is, to respond with joy and incredulity to something that seemed too good to be true.  But I like to think that the tear-stained, poignant, hope-filled prayer for restoration is related to dreaming as well, as in Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. In short, hope energizes both resilience in the midst of suffering and resistance to the forces that oppress. In the final analysis, Psalm 126 suggests that tear-stained hope is both poignant and powerful!

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for April 3, 2022.
2. Robert Alter, The Book of Psalms: A Translation and Commentary (New York: W. W. Norton and Co., 2007), 447.
3.  James L. Mays, Psalms (Interpretation; Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 399.

Using his own life as a paradigm,¹ Paul presents us in this passage with a brief existential description of what it actually means to live “through the faith of the Messiah Jesus” rather than trusting in one’s own righteousness (3:9).² To understand what Paul is talking about, however, we need to do two things: (1) unravel some false assumptions about what we think he is saying and (2) realize that he is referring to a reality in which we already participate even now through trust or faith.

Confidence through one’s own or the Messiah’s righteousness?

In this passage, Paul addresses the way some rival apostles are demanding that the Philippians, as Gentile converts, do certain things (like become circumcised). Paul counters by saying that these demands are based in the “flesh.” Given centuries of later Christian interpretation, we need to clarify what Paul means when he speaks of the “flesh” (sarx). He is not negating the human body in and of itself. Indeed, he speaks positively about bodies, whether they be personal or corporate. Rather, Paul uses “flesh” to refer to what is mortal—what will eventually decay or die and thus can be corrupted in its attempts to secure its survival at all costs. 

Further, by linking “flesh” with his rivals’ demand that the Philippians do certain things, Paul is not negating or demeaning Jewish law. Indeed, Paul affirms that the law is good and holy (Romans 7:12) and that the Messiah’s purpose is not to abolish the law, but rather to enable us to fulfill it (Romans 10:4). Moreover, as indicated in this passage, Paul is very proud of his Jewish heritage; he is especially proud of the fact that he is “righteous under the law, blameless” (3:6). 

What, then, is at issue here? Whether we are seeking to secure our survival at all costs—by, say, meeting our own or others’ expectations and demands for what it means to be “right” or “good”—or whether we are simply trusting in God’s promises to us in the Messiah Jesus. In other letters, Paul expands on how it is Abraham’s faith or trust in God’s promises to him (for example, that he and his descendants would be a blessing to the nations) that makes him righteous. His being circumcised is something that takes place afterwards as a sign of his faith in this promise (Romans 4:1-16). 

Defining faith and righteousness

Again, however, we need to clarify what Paul does not mean by “faith.” It does not mean adherence to some cognitive or behavioral formula that specifies what we are to think or do, even when it contradicts our best sense of what is true and just. Rather, “faith” has to do with fidelity or loyalty to the way of life God’s promises open up for us—a way of life characterized by holding fast to God’s promise of unconditional goodness and mercy, precisely when we are in the midst of what appears to be a precarious future or an irreversible past. 

In turn, the “righteousness” that comes through faith does not refer to some kind of legal merit, whether that be something we achieve by our own effort or something forensically declared to us as if in a law court. Rather, “righteousness,” as defined by its usage in scripture, has to do with living in such a way that we embody God’s mercy and justice, as exemplified, for instance, by how we care for those around us, especially those who are poor and vulnerable, and thus are not in a position to reward us for our good work.

Losing everything and gaining the Messiah 

What is at issue, then, with “faith” and “righteousness” is how we “regard” or “lead” (hēgomai) our lives—that is, how we interpret and respond to the circumstances we are facing (3:7). Earlier in the letter, Paul urges the Philippians to “regard” others “as better than yourselves” (2:3), just as Jesus did when he did not “regard equality with God as something to be exploited,” but rather “emptied” himself, even to the point of “death” on a “cross” (2:6). In a similar vein, Paul states that he “regards” everything as “loss” and “garbage” in view of the excess of value that comes from knowing Jesus as Messiah and Lord (3:8)—a theme echoed in the Gospels, where Jesus asks plainly, “What will it profit them to gain the whole world, and forfeit their life?” (Mark 8:36; see also Matthew 16:26; Luke 9:25).

Knowing the power of the Messiah’s resurrection and sharing in his sufferings 

What Paul wants “to know” (ginōskō) in all this is the Messiah (3:10). Such “knowing” has to do with intimacy—participating in the other one “knows,” as in a sexual encounter. It is in this participatory sense that Paul wants to “know” the “power” of the Messiah’s “resurrection” and to “share” in his “sufferings” (3:10).  

Of course, resurrection here does not mean the resuscitation of a body. Rather, it has to do with the way the Messiah’s being raised from the dead vindicates his death for others by ushering in a new creation. Jesus’ being raised from the dead vindicates his crucifixion and the way it signifies God’s unconditional love and reign of mercy and justice—precisely in a world that contradicts that love and reign. 

Paul’s ultimate “goal,” then, is to attain, through the Messiah Jesus’s own faith, the vindication of unconditional love his being raised from the dead signifies. Of course, such vindication is impossible in this life where we constantly face evidence that contradicts God’s mercy and justice. Yet Paul maintains that he can make it his own through the Messiah Jesus who has already claimed him as his own. Thus, because he has already been claimed in the Messiah’s life, he presses on toward his goal, “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead” (3:14).

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for April 3, 2022.
2. I am translating dia pisteōs Christou (3:9) as “through the faith of Christ” rather than “through faith in Christ” (as in the NRSV translation).