Fifth Sunday in Lent – Year C
April 6, 2025
Gospel Lectionary Text
John 12:1-8
12:1 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.
12:2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.
12:3 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.
12:4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said,
12:5 "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
12:6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)
12:7 Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.
12:8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."
Context
Welcome to the Fifth Sunday of Lent. In this week’s Gospel, Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with costly perfume. Judas — who will soon betray Jesus for thirty pieces of silver — grumbles about this “waste,” claiming it could’ve been given to the poor. Jesus responds with two curious statements: the perfume is for his burial, and “You always have the poor with you.”
Why? Why will we always have the poor with us, and why must Jesus die? The two are intimately connected. Jesus’ statement about the poor isn’t an economic prediction; it’s an anthropological reality — humans form community by creating scapegoats. Scapegoats perform a vital function: they not only bear our sins, they also temporarily unify us. That unity, however, is false and short-lived, which is why we keep inventing new scapegoats. Caiaphas the high priest captured this logic well, saying, “It is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed” (John 11:50).
For scapegoating to work, we must see our victim as truly cursed — utterly deserving of whatever harm we inflict. At the highest levels, we even enlist God in the process. This is exactly what’s about to happen to Jesus. Mary, discerning the powder-keg atmosphere, anoints Jesus — He is about to become the next scapegoat for an unstable community. Soon, He will be crucified on what theologian James Cone calls the “Lynching Tree.”
There he will do something unimaginable. The scapegoat of our own invention will forgive us even as we crucify Him. In this act, He will found a new community — one that is scapegoat free. It’s called the Church.
Question
Last week we saw the prodigal son. This week we see the prodigal daughter. Prodigal = wasteful. What do their stories reveal about the prodigal God who is the real wasteful one?
Reflections
Praying Eucharistically - Weekly Homily by James Alison:
Understanding the Bible anew through the Mimetic Theory of René Girard.
Poetry
Anointed
by Steve Garnaas-Holmes
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.
—John 12.3
Mary Christ, you who have met me before
in the valley of the shadow of death,
you kneel in perfect compassion,
join me in my sorrow
and soothe me in my pain.
These feet soon pierced you heal
with balm before the wound;
you bless, and teach the Teacher
how to bless his dear ones’ feet.
The house is filled like costly incense
with the fragrance of your love.
Christ Mary, your heart broken
like a jar, poured out like oil,
drying my feet, soon lashed,
with your hair,
my suffering now borne in your flesh,
I die in your arms and
am reborn, new, and washed.
Mary Christ,
with the laying on
of hands and hair, your bittersweet
baptismal flood of tears,
with your holy spirit of love
you bless me now
to go to my cross,
to bear love and its heartbreaking cost,
and send me forth, your Beloved,
and finally now your
Anointed One.
Transformation
by Adam Zagajewski
I haven’t written a single poem
in months.
I’ve lived humbly, reading the paper,
pondering the riddle of power
and the reasons for obedience.
I’ve watched sunsets
(crimson, anxious),
I’ve heard the birds grow quiet
and night’s muteness.
I’ve seen sunflowers dangling
their heads at dusk, as if a careless hangman
had gone strolling through the gardens.
September’s sweet dust gathered
on the windowsill and lizards
hid in the bends of walls.
I’ve taken long walks,
craving one thing only:
lightning,
transformation,
you.
Some Kiss We Want
by Rumi
There is some kiss we want
with our whole lives,
the touch of Spirit on the body.
Seawater begs the pearl
to break its shell.
And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild Darling!
At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face into mine.
Breathe into me.
Close the language-door,
and open the love-window.
The moon won't use the door,
only the window.
Prayer
During Lent, the call to prayer features the Street Psalms Prayer of Discernment and includes a story from our global community that helps ground us in the everyday reality of those we serve.
As beloved ones who are forgiven and free, we freely forgive those who have done us harm. We eagerly loose the chains of injustice that hold us captive, and we ask for the grace to will and to do your good pleasure.
Listen to the complete prayer below:
