April 3rd: "Death Party"
The First United Presbyterian Church of Loveland
“Death Party”
Rev. Amy Morgan
April 3, 2022
John 12:1-8
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.
2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.
3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said,
5 "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?"
6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)
7 Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.
8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."Shatzi Weisberger knew she was going to die. She wasn’t ill, and her death wasn’t imminent. But she was in her 90’s. And she knew she wouldn’t live forever. Instead of denying these realities, Shatzi constructed a cardboard coffin and threw a party. Over 100 of her family members and friends attended, drinking wine and eating hors d'oeuvres, listening to the choir Shatzi sang with, and decorating her coffin with glitter, loving messages, and fond memories.
Shatzi hosted her death party in a bid to get people talking about one of the last taboos in the Western world; she wanted to let them know that it’s okay to talk about death.
Death parties like Shatzi’s have grown in popularity around the world. Some people who are terminally ill are conducting what are called “living funerals” where they can essentially attend their own funeral before they die. Death doulas are becoming more common, helping people transition out of this life, just as birth doulas help babies transition into it. The “death café” movement has gained popularity in the U.S. and Europe, encouraging conversation around topics related to death and dying while enjoying cake and coffee. These and other events and resources are inviting us to recognize death as a natural and inevitable part of life. There is a clear longing to re-develop a meaningful relationship with and rituals around death in societies like ours where death has become increasingly remote and clinical.
Jesus also knew he was going to die. He wasn’t ill, but he knew his death was imminent. There was a price on his head, and the authorities were looking for him. Ironically, the thing that had made Jesus a target was resurrecting his friend Lazarus from the dead. The authorities were concerned that this dramatic reversal of the laws of nature would cause an uprising that would spell disaster for the Jewish people. And so they decided that “it is better for one man to die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.”
But Jesus knew what his end would be even before the plan was set in motion for his arrest. For some time now, he’d been trying to get his friends, his disciples, to accept that he would be betrayed, humiliated, and executed. But whenever he’d bring it up in conversation, his disciples would contradict him, ignore him, or change the subject.
And now, just before Jesus sticks his neck out by triumphantly entering Jerusalem riding on a donkey, there is this strange and intimate scene in the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha. It’s a dinner party, and there is food and drink, perhaps even laughter and stories.
One person in the room, at least, recognizes this event for what it is: a death party, a living funeral. Mary pours expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet and wipes them with her hair. This extravagant and intimate act allows Mary to do for Jesus while he is alive what she would do for his body when he is dead.
Suddenly, the tone of the party changes. As the scent of the perfume fills the whole house, everyone stops and tries to sort out what is happening. The strangeness of this gathering is brought to the forefront and can’t be concealed by the clinking glasses and stimulating conversation.
The host of the party is a man who was dead and is now alive. And the guest of honor is alive but has just been anointed like a corpse. Jesus will die, but he will rise again. And Lazarus who was raised from the dead will die again.
Those clear distinctions we assume exist between life and death are suddenly no longer very clear. Who is really alive and who is really dead? Who will live and who will die? Who will live again and who will die again?
And all Judas can think about is the money wasted on this silly affair. Judas, who will also soon die, who’s heart is perhaps already dead. Another kind of corpse at this strange death party.
We don’t have to attend a death party to know, on some level, that we are going to die. But we rarely deal with this fact as a certainty. I’ve walked with faithful folks who are terminally ill and immanently dying who refuse to deal with death and it’s associated realities. And I’ve walked with faithful folks who have planned for their deaths in great detail and discussed those plans with their loved ones.
But in all these experiences, it still feels like life is on one side of a great divide and death is on the other. It seems clear that the living are alive and the dead are dead. We can plan for the practicalities of death and dying. But in the end, it won’t really matter much to us when we’re gone.
This death party in Bethany upends that kind of thinking. Jesus doesn’t plan for his death, nor does he deny it. Instead, he embraces his living and his dying, welcomes the anointing of his living body for death, eats and drinks with his friends even as he prepares to hang on a cross dying of thirst. Jesus doesn’t pick out which perfume he’d like to be anointed with or select his burial attire. He doesn’t even purchase a gravesite. But he talks about his death. A lot. He hints and foreshadows and comes right out and says how it’s going to happen. Not so that people can get comfortable with the idea. But so people can see that the great divide is not what we think it is. And that it is not so great. He blurs the lines between life and death in ways that are both hopeful and unsettling.
Jesus has clearly unsettled people. Resurrecting Lazarus excited the crowds but also got him condemned to death. Talking about his death so offended Judas that he undermined Jesus’s financial support and ultimately betrays him to his death. In all the gospels, Jesus’s resurrection is described as a terrifying event. When the dead don’t stay dead, and when the living are dead inside, this is an unsettling experience. That’s why the horror genre is obsessed with things like ghosts and zombies and vampires. Things that blur the lines between life and death can be horrifying. Because there is a fear that death will overwhelm life, infringe on life’s fragile rights, overcome it’s vulnerable defenses.
But this moment in Bethany is not a scene out of a horror film. It is a love story, through and through. Not a romance, necessarily. But certainly a story about love.
The family of Lazarus and Mary and Martha is clearly dear to Jesus. They feature several times in the gospel stories. And the only time Jesus weeps in the gospels is at the death of Lazarus, in the face of his sisters’ grief. He loves these people.
And he loves his friends, his disciples, who are gathered at this party. In the next chapter of John’s gospel, it says that Jesus “loved his own who were in the world, [and] he loved them to the end.” Even Judas, who lied and stole and would ultimately betray him. He loved them all.
John’s gospel also says that Jesus came into the world, blurring the lines between divinity and humanity, life and death, mortality and eternity, because “God so loved the world.”
The love Jesus has is both cosmic and personal, intimate and infinite. And it is that love that is responsible for not just blurring the lines between life and death, but destroying that barrier completely.
We maintain this barrier between life and death because of our belief that that barrier is some kind of defense against death. We fear that removing that barrier will result in death consuming life. But, through the love, the life, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus, “death is swallowed up in victory,” as the apostle Paul says. And that is a hopeful reality. That is something worth talking about. That is worth throwing a party for.
We throw that party every year, on Easter, though we may not recognize it for what it is. Easter is our own death party, our own living funeral, where we celebrate the hope we have in Christ’s destruction of the barrier between life and death. It allows us to embrace our living and our dying, celebrate now what will last forever, live in the now and always.
In our death-denying society, we as Christians occupy an essential space in the conversation around death and dying. We can initiate conversations about death that are life-giving. We have meaningful rituals that help us understand death as both natural and non-binary. Because, in Christ, there is no longer life and death, two sides of a great divide. We know that we can live in death-dealing ways, and live eternally after death. We know that life can and does come out of death. Once and always. And again and again.
So let the party begin. Amen.
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