There’s another story about a woman who washed Jesus’ feet – it’s found in Luke’s Gospel. “One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.” Imagine that, what would you think if a person of the opposite sex, or the same sex for that matter, started anointing and kissing your feet?

The 17th century English poet, George Herbert wrote about that woman. It’s entitled Mary Magdalene

When blessed Mary wip’d her Savior’s feet,
(Whose precept she had trampled on before)
And wore them for a jewel on her head,
Showing his steps should be the street,
Wherein she thenceforth evermore
With pensive humbleness would live and tread.

She being stain’d herself, why did she strive
To make him clean, who could not be defil’d?
Why kept she not her tears for her own faults,
And not his feet? Though we could dive
In tears like seas, our sins are pil’d
Deeper than they, in words, and works, and thoughts.

Dear soul, she knew who did vouchsafe and deign
To bear her filth; and that her sins did dash
Ev’n God himself: wherefore she was not loath,
As she had brought wherewith to stain,
So to bring in wherewith to wash;
And yet in washing one, she washed both.

I guess I could just stop there and say no more, but, of course I’m not going to stop now. Instead, I’ll go on with the little sermon based on some of the scripture read this evening.
In the reading from the Book of Isaiah we heard these words, “A dimly burning wick he will not quench.”.

I’ve been a dimly burning wick -- drained of energy –. and I’ve been as though it wouldn’t take much to put me out. It seemed as if one drop of water could have quenched my spirit.
You know about being tired and exhausted and drained of energy. There are strained relationships; there is the weight of guilt from sin. Dimly burning wicks in our souls.
I’ve known about churches become so distressed their very life is almost drained out of them. Just about all that is left is like a dimly burning wick.

Yes, and, even though it doesn’t really fit with Isaiah’s meaning, we could imagine Jesus nailed on that cross; and how thirsty he was; and how his life was burning out right there before his mother and her sister and Mary Magdalene and the Roman soldiers who had driven the iron spikes; and also John, the beloved disciple. Wasn’t Jesus about to be extinguished?

Such thoughts came to mind as I read over tonight’s reading from Isaiah’s Book. I know the original meaning has to do with the time when God’s chosen servant comes on the scene with his justice to the nations. Isaiah may not have been writing about the one we call Jesus Christ. Yet for those who try to be willing to take up the cross and follow Jesus, these ancient words point to Christ the Lord, the Servant, the suffering Servant God chooses, upholds and delights in.

The Letter to the Hebrews proclaims, “we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, [therefore] let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” Isaiah’s chosen servant of God is none other than the one Christians trust – want to trust – try to trust in – the one who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. People all over the world have gathered this day to consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that [we] may not grow weary or lose heart.

He will not quench dimly burning faith. He lights our lives with courage we need when we grow weary or lose heart. We need our hearts strengthened so that we, like dimly burning wicks persevere and not burn out. Christ restores faith like a flame. Our hearts are warmed and our lives and the life of the church are meant to be light for the nations. The people of God grow weary. We dwindle toward burn-out like dimly burning wicks. Yet the loving creator, with the breath of life -- Jesus, the chosen servant of God, brings us back to life. He calls us to be light and courage and hope in a world grown dark and weary, depressed, and complacent.

Saturday evening we will recall the darkness and the debt of Adam’s sin. We’ll remember our bondage in Egypt, the gloom of sin, and the bonds of death and hell. We’ll call to mind our enslavement. Words like “wickedness”, “mourning” “pride and hatred” will be voiced as the Paschal candle’s cool wick is lighted with new fire.

Lazarus, and his sisters, Martha and Mary threw a dinner party at their home in Bethany. With all the guests watching, Mary washes Jesus’ feet -- an act of hospitality. Ordinarily such foot washing involves water and a towel. But Mary with reckless and prodigal emotion washes Jesus’ feet with perfume – quite a lot of it in fact. Then she wipes his feet dry not with a towel but with her own hair. What intimacy! Imagine the deep relationship of love between this man and this woman. The house filled with a wonderful fragrance. Others including Judas Iscariot disapprove of Mary’s gracious act. It is wasteful. Would I have criticized her too? Would you? But Jesus interrupts anxiety about financial concerns. He speaks of a deeper meaning. He explains that Mary had actually bought the perfume for anointing his corpse for burial. In her prodigal, reckless love for Jesus Mary of Bethany looks ahead to what will happen Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Yesterday as the palms were blessed we asked God to help us enter with joy upon the contemplation of those mighty acts, whereby God has given us life and immortality. Tonight we gaze upon one of those mighty acts. In the middle of this dinner in honor of Jesus Mary gets down on her knees at the feet of Jesus. Her long hair reaches the floor. She pours out this huge amount of perfume on Jesus feet. She takes up each foot and anoints it with this fragrant liquid; then grasping her own hair as though it were a towel wipes Jesus’ feet – feet soon to be pierced with a spike hammered home by a Roman soldier.

Perhaps that’s why the collect was chosen for Monday in Holy Week. This exquisite little prayer is about joy and suffering. It is about glory and pain, reminding us that the way of the cross is in fact the way of life and peace.

Mary’s prodigal bathing of her beloved Jesus’ feet is about glory and joy in friendship deep enough to celebrate with such familiarity. This tender loving care for her friend sparks a gleam of glory and joy contrasting the dark side of these days as Jesus enters Jerusalem, is judged, convicted, condemned and put to death, buried, and rises from the grave. These are the mighty acts by which God gives us life and immortality.

The events of this day point beyond the remainder of this week’s days. God is love. Could such Love, the fire of life for a little while have been quenched? But before and after that dreadful day we celebrate the joy and glory whereby we trust in God who is love. Divine love begets courage. Therefore, take heart! God is love and in God we live and move and have our being.

Let us pray.

God of unquenchable love, your most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace.

In your hands we rest.
In the cup of whose hands sailed an ark rudderless
and without mast.
In your hands we rest
who was to make of the aimless wandering of an ark
a new beginning for the world.
In your hands we rest,
ready and content this day.