This is the last of my posts on the three poems published by As Surely as the Sun Literary Journal. Click here to read the poems.
Illumination
In many ways, this is a very simple poem about the desire to live in gratitude in the present moment. Judas’s complaint against Mary is unfair for many reasons. Perhaps he is a thief, as John’s Gospel states, and is reacting to seeing the money he could steal poured out as oil. But even if he is honestly concerned for the poor, his comments mark him as one of those people who believe that poor people should never enjoy any luxury or pleasure, and that they should never be allowed to give gifts, only receive charity. Such people walk around with Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs tattooed on their brains, questioning why anyone would spend resources on the high levels of the pyramid while the base level of fulfilling physiological needs goes ignored. Who needs love and belonging and esteem when sleeping outdoors, begging for money, and wearing mud-splattered clothes? And if one were to somehow receive a gift of a few hundred dollars, shouldn’t they horde it for themselves instead of using it to throw a party or buy a present for a friend? Judas acts out of this logic, but ignores one basic fact: Jesus and his disciples are poor people. The scented ointment is being spent on the poor. Just not in a way that meets with Judas’s approval or his plans for thievery.
There is a freedom in Mary’s gift of oil that is based in holy poverty. I’ve used this term with friends who, like me, have lived through moments of material want, small paychecks, worry about making rent or paying for utilities, days spent scrounging for food and selling off possessions. I find that when I say the words “holy poverty” I then need to explain what I mean by it, since past experience of material deprivation makes it hard to think of poverty as holy, or as anything beyond a spirit-crushing slog through life. Yet great saints like Francis or Ignatius embraced poverty, and in doing so they made, with their lives, a spiritual claim. One can detach from wealth and comfort, and even come to see such things as detrimental to spiritual health. One can rely on God, and imitate Christ’s impoverishment. And yes, I know that there are arguments that Jesus, the son of a carpenter, grew up in a tradesman’s house and might have been considered middle-class at the time, if they had such conceptions of class. But as a teacher and miracle worker, he was poor and indigent, and although he attracted some wealthy followers, he himself owned nothing. He urged his followers to make gifts of their possessions, even to their enemies.
So Mary, if it is Mary of Bethany who pours the ointment, is doing nothing more than enacting holy poverty. She has come into possession of an expensive luxury. She does not keep it for herself, but pours it out extravagantly, a gift for the person she loves. It isn’t a gift with any strings attached. It’s an outpouring of gratitude, a recognition of the healing and resurrection that has already taken place. More than that, a recognition of the world’s beauty, the fact that trees and plants give forth fragrance, and that we can gather that fragrance and adorn ourselves with it. That nature, and seasons, and God, are all indifferent to our wealth and status. That gifts of beauty belong to everyone.
KPB Stevens 