I have led Holy Week liturgies for decades. This year it felt like I was reading the Gospel for the first time.
There is a difference between reading and hearing words. The difference is as startling as reading about love and feeling it. Hearing words thrusts waves of understanding that shock your heart awake.
Even after reading words a hundred times, hearing them can draw a response like, “Oh, I get it. That’s what people mean!”
Women who have given birth read information about labor but never hear the words until about eight centimeters dilated. New moms say, “No one told me.” Everyone told them, but they couldn’t hear it until that moment.
The chasm between listening and hearing is bridged by proximity and seasons of our lives.
In the service, I read the story of Mary washing Jesus’ feet. In the middle of the story Jesus says, “Leave her alone.”
The words hit so hard that I stopped and asked the congregation to repeat the words back to me. Hearing a hundred people say, “Leave her alone!” made me weepy.
I immediately pictured a new Thistle Farms t-shirt that says in quotes “Leave Her Alone” and below it, the word “Jesus.”
I am clear Jesus wasn’t implying that people should not intervene if a vulnerable woman needs help or if there's an injustice being done to a sister. Jesus is saying this woman is doing a good thing and should be free to act.
The scene is clear. Martha was serving. That was fine. Her brother Lazarus was lounging at the table, and again, that was fine. But Mary, Martha’s sister, was taking two cups of expensive lavender nard oil, pouring it on Jesus’ feet, then wiping the oil on his feet and on the floor with her own hair.
It is a dramatic example of the messy and intimate work of healing.
Judas, the treasurer, along with the other people in the room, judged her. Just a silent look can awaken an ancient, inner voice which reprimands and judges women when we step out of line. Maybe Mary was scared that people thought she was being forward or, God forbid, daring to be herself.
With his feet reeking of fragrant oil, Jesus stops the judgment with his three simple and loving words. His words silenced Mary’s inner voice and told everyone to give her enough freedom to do a kindness in a harsh world hat is ready to kill him. Women know the judgment we carry when we try to express our love in this world. We feel others are saying silently or aloud, “Who do they think they are?”
As a southern woman priest who was ordained 35 years ago, I am aware that when I show up at some churches or speak at conventions, I am generally too Christian or not Christian enough for most of the people in the room.
What I cherish most in hearing this Gospel is the proclamation that there is room at the table that Martha set for Judas who is struggling with wealth and power.
There is room at the table for Lazarus whose story will carry the fragrance of hope long after he dies again.
There is also room for all the Marys who pour out their love in ways that are messy, intimate, and lavish. Leave her alone when she is trying to love the world.
I love casting this phrase wider. How about “leave young women alone” to grow into their bodies and spirits without pain or harm.
How about “leave women artisans alone” to create ancient treasures and raise their children.
How about “leave vulnerable women alone” and not sexually exploit them.
How about “leave brave women alone” who dismantle old structures to change legislation and systems that imprison women across the globe.
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Leave her alone is a loving incarnation in which women and girls flourish. Leaving people enough space to chart their own heroic journey is gospel work.
Say the words with me one more time, “Leave her alone.”
Let it sink deep until we hear it.
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-- Becca Stevens