Dangerous Oddness
This sermon explores the extravagant, unsettling act of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with a goodly portion of expensive perfumed oil—a gesture of love that defied the logic of her world. In contrast to the practical and measured response of the world, Mary embodies the dangerous oddness of the Gospel. We are invited to join her in disrupting systems of control and scarcity with acts of imagination, grace, and abundance.
The Glimpses of Grace podcast is a ministry of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia. We are passionate about supporting the spiritual growth of souls, and we hope these sermons and conversations meet you where you are and enrich your soul as we all continue to make meaning in the world today.
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Transcript
To be called by Jesus is to be called to be imaginative, perhaps a bit odd.
We learn this at a celebratory dinner.
Jesus is the guest of honor.
Lazarus is there.
(Days ago he was dead, now he sits at the table, waiting to be served.)
He’s rooted in reminiscence.
Martha is there…hurriedly preparing, hosting, serving.
She’s preoccupied with busyness.
Judas Iscariot is there, a tragically tormented soul.
He’s misguided by enterprise.
Mary is there.
When suddenly, taking a goodly portion of expensive perfumed oil,
Mary rubs it on Jesus’ feet and wipes them with her hair.
It’s a shocking act—extravagant, intimate, and, to some, wasteful, strange.
Judas, operating within the logic and reason of the world, exclaims,
“Why was this perfume not sold for a large sum
and the money given to help the poor?”
His reaction is practical.
In fact, I’m not sure I wouldn’t feel similarly in this situation.
But Jesus saw Mary’s act as prophetic—
a “dangerous oddness” that pointed beyond the ordinary to
a new reality breaking into the world.
Walter Brueggemann, an Old Testament scholar and theologian,
in his text The Prophetic Imagination,
speaks of the prophets as voices from outside the “totalism”—
the primary, dominant system that claims to be
the only way the world can be.
In today’s Gospel reading, the totalism was the Roman Empire,
propped up by the temple elite.
It was a world where wealth was extracted from the poor,
where military might enforced order,
where purity laws created a rigidity of who was in and who was out.
It was a world where imagination was controlled,
where there was no room for any serious alternative.
If we are honest, we must admit this sounds familiar.
Human systems have a way of seeking to dominate our lives,
often at the expense of the weakest among us.
It is a world that prizes efficiency and productivity over compassion and rest.
It is an economy built on extraction—on cheap labor, on consumerism,
on debt that ensures compliance.
It is a world where power and wealth are hoarded,
where lines are drawn to determine who is deserving
and who is expendable.
All blessed by, what Brueggemann calls an anemic god,
who serves only to legitimize the status quo.
This is the position from which Judas speaks.
But Mary does something that makes no sense within this system.
She pours out her costly perfume, not to secure status,
not to gain favor, not to increase her wealth,
but as an act of uncalculated, unmeasured, unconditional love.
She refuses the logic of extraction.
She refuses the anxiety that accompanies scarcity.
She refuses to bow to the system that says only power, only wealth,
only control will secure one’s worth in the world.
(Worthiness is not tied to achievement, possessions,
or the opinions of this world.)
Rather, she anoints Jesus, pointing to a new world breaking in.
Judas can’t see it.
Like many of us, he’s too deeply embedded.
He speaks in the language of practicality, of budgets, of measurable impact.
But Jesus calls us to something different.
Jesus calls us to change.
Jesus calls us to the wildness of imagination—prophetic imagination.
Brueggemann tells us that the prophetic task is threefold:
1) To expose the totalism. Following Jesus’ example, we must name the systems
of exploitation and oppression for what they are. As hard as it is,
we are called to unmask the illusions that keep us compliant.
We must recognize that the way things are is not the way things have to be.
2) To pronounce judgment. Judgment has a bad rap.
But the world of exploitation and exclusion
is not aligned with God’s purpose.
Consumerism does not bring joy, militarization does not bring peace,
exceptionalism does not bring security…
these things are not aligned with love, with justice.
Christians must tell the truth about a world
that is on a path of self-destruction.
3) To imagine and enact an alternative. Christians must live as though
another world is possible—because it is.
We must practice generosity in a culture of hoarding,
hospitality in a culture of exclusion,
rest in a culture of exhaustion.
We must refuse to play by the rules and instead live by
the economy of grace.
Totalism says: Work harder, longer, be more productive. This is not enough.
Grace says: You are beloved as you are. Rest is holy.
Totalism says: Protect your borders, your wallet, your ego.
An alternative? Welcome the stranger. Loosen your grip. Share with modesty.
Mary’s act was dangerous. It was odd. It made no sense.
But that is the nature of the gospel. That is the strangeness of faith.
Jesus was a walking, talking, healing, loving, forgiving disruption
to the ordinary life of the Roman Empire.
So they killed him for it,
attempting to erase the alternative he embodied.
But today’s Gospel reading tells us that
the fragrance of compassion overwhelms the stench of death.
What’s the costly thing you’re called to pour out?
Will it stop others in their tracks? Would you be surprised?
We are called to be a people of dangerous oddness.
We are called to disrupt the world’s logic with acts of imagination.
We are called to pour out what is costly,
to love with recklessness,
to prepare the way for something new.
The world will not understand.
It will mock us, reject us, perhaps even seek to silence us.
But Jesus has already shown us the way.
The way of the world is not normal.
It is not inevitable. It is not the final word.
Love is.
Love will have the last word.
Amen.
*This transcript was created using AI and human editors, and as a result, may contain errors.