"When I last visited Aunt Gerry she was
moved into assisted living and in a wheelchair. Her husband, Glynn had been in
the hospital for several months due to declining health and advancing dementia.
The possibility of them ever living together had ended.
When I brought Gerry to Glynn’s
bedside at the hospital, she leaned in, touched his face and tenderly called
his name. Curled up on his side like a child, Glynn was a shadow of his former
self. With some effort, Gerry stood up and kissed him repeatedly. He didn’t
respond to any of her affections.
We prayed together and anointed
Glynn. I formed a cross on his forehead and hands and Gerry did the same. Glynn
eventually opened his eyes, but he still didn’t recognize us. These few moments
of awakened presence seemed enough for her.
Later, I praised Gerry’s devotion to
Glynn all these difficult months. Her reply “I care to.”
I care to. Luke’s gospel is about a woman
whose longing to be near Jesus compels her to break a social convention by
interrupting a dinner at Simon, the Pharisee’s house. She is nameless and does
not speak, but the outpouring of her emotions and actions conveys so much. The
woman lavishly anoints Jesus with unabashed sensuality.
They care to. We see Jesus and the
woman engaging in a true partnership, a discipleship of equals. Each anoints,
but not in the same way. How?
The woman gives herself without
restraint and receives from Jesus forgiveness and peace. She is free to love
and is saved. Jesus openly receives the woman’s suffering and is given the gift
of her heart. Their remarkable vulnerability and witnessing of one another demonstrates
a condition of soul that is spacious and inclusive.
The anointing challenges accepted
Jewish social practices and roles that are not of God. Neither judges the
other. Thus, something new can enter. Compassionate love flows within and
between them. This is a mutual mystical relationship that has a purpose.
The woman reveals Jesus as the
prophet who Simon no longer sees. This
woman anoints him for his mission to free the oppressed, to bring justice and
to liberate love. Her capacity to see Jesus as he truly is makes her a prophet
in her own right. Through love, both are revealed in their true identity as God
within, as both within God. No wonder there
is weeping.
When we gather as an inclusive faith
community, the presence of Wisdom Sophia as compassionate love is with us, too,
in Christ Sophia. The exchange of love between us and Christ Sophia through
Word and Eucharist flows as the fragrant ointment from the alabaster jar. Our
love pours out and love returns to us. We are better prepared for our journey
of liberating God’s love by being the presence of Christ Sophia in the world.
We care to. In the days ahead, how
might we anoint others through our Eucharistic presence? Enliven them for their
purpose. Will we reach out to those most in need, often the people closest to
home or those we exclude? Will we let others be this presence for us?
“Tears come. She
in her softness, tenderness,
infinite love. She
who is firm, who lasts.” 1.
Jesus asks Simon, “Do you see her?” The gospel leaves us
without a reply.
We see her now.
She is Gerry.
She is each woman we have called by name tonight.
She is the one who is firm, who
lasts.
She is love.
She is us.
“We are in miracles now. We are in miraculous Presence.”
1. Excerpt
from “Encounter,” a poem by Rev. Dr. Michele Birch-Conery, ARCWP Priest, Sept
23, 2013.
Barbara J. Billey, Nov 1, 2013
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