Mary loved the Lord and without counting the cost, worshipped him; Judas sat in the shadows and complained about the waste of money. Kind of amazing that this story is the one we hear on the very day when the church architect is going to present us some designs for a new social hall and for the renewal of our worship space. For there is a tension in the life of the church—I mean the whole church throughout its history—between worship and the beauty that supports it, and duty to the needs of the poor. Every time a beautiful new church goes up, or when expensive new furnishings are purchased for the church, critics say, look at those people, wasting all that money, when there are so many real needs in the community. But what are the real needs?

Here’s a story from the Sabbath book we’ve been exploring this Lent:

One day [a group of social activists] were meeting in Old South Church, one of the fine, traditional houses of worship in Boston. One social activist was particularly enthusiastic in criticizing the great disparities of wealth in the city. In his…fervor he used the church we were sitting in as an offending example. "Take this church. It is obscene, all this stained glass and gold chalices and fine tapestries. If the church really cared about poor people, they should sell all of this stuff and give it to the poor."

That’s an almost exact quote from old you know who—Judas. Well, the story goes on:

But a woman from the neighborhood, who had lived there all her life, said quietly, "This is one of the most beautiful places in the city. It is one of the only places where poor folks can afford to be around beauty. All the other beauty in this city costs money. Here, we can be surrounded by beautiful things, and it all belongs to us. Don’t even think about taking away what little beauty we have." Wayne Muller. Sabbath. Pages 161-62

Judas had it all wrong. I think he was into duty, not love of the Lord. But Mary was into the love of God, and she worshipped lavishly, extravagantly. Bought for three hundred silver coins, the expensive perfume she poured on Jesus’ feet—not even on his head as would have been more common for an anointing!—cost the equivalent of a whole year’s wages for the average worker! (What would that be for us? 30, 40, 50 thousand dollars or more?) A whole year’s wages poured away in one moment of loving devotion, a symbolic anointing for burial, her loving heart breaking at the tragic beauty of the presence of God in a world of struggle and death.

When we are in love with someone, we always want to spend as much time with them as possible. And we want beautiful things for them, forget the cost! It’s the same in relationship to God and the church. Generous giving and truly beautiful worship places come from loving hearts, not grudging duty. Given a choice of accepting our begrudging duty or lavish love, God would rather have our love any day.

By Judas’ standards, Mary’s love was wasteful. But Judas had it wrong: lovely worship of Jesus and compassion for the poor are never opposing things, but always one and the same thing. If we become bitter or merely dutiful and begrudge the beauty of things that point to God, then our faith loses its allure to others. Who wants to be around people who spend most of their time worrying and fussing about money?

Think about the story one more time: Who is more likely to show the beauty of God to the poor: Mary or Judas? Well, then, we’re at our best, not when we’re obsessively worried about the cost of trying to maintain or fix up the church, but when we are totally overwhelmed by what it cost Christ to make us the Church. It’s called worship, opening our hearts up to the Lord, as Mary did, pouring out our love, without counting minutes, dollars or anything else, just like he did for us on the Cross. To sing, "My Jesus, I love Thee", from the depths of our hearts, why that’s the beginning of everything good. Mary? Or Judas?ÊAmen.