Some years ago when I was serving as Director of Music in a parish, I made a presentation at an adult formation hour to explain why the parish should fund staff singers to support the volunteer choir. This parish had no history of paid staff singers as section leaders, so it was a big step for me to push towards adding that expense to the music budget. As part of my presentation, I looked at John 12:1-8, where Mary, the sister of Lazarus, anoints Jesus’s feet with precious, pure nard and wipes them with her hair. To me, this passage explains why we can justify spending money on music, vestments, and other aspects of worship, especially when the temptation might be to cut corners. True, we could worship without music. True, a priest could even celebrate Mass without vestments (and certainly without nice ones!). We could even (shudder!) buy electronic candles for the high altar. But that’s not the point. The point is that in John 12:1-8, Jesus justifies what Mary did. Remember that Judas Iscariot is the first to condemn Mary’s actions. “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” And we know what he ended up doing to Jesus. Judas’s protest creates a straw man. It’s not either you anoint Jesus’s feet with oil or you give to the poor. It’s not about any of that. Jesus affirms that Mary’s act of love and devotion is beautiful in and of itself. Full stop.
I recently finished reading Art and Faith: A Theology of Making by the Japanese artist Makoto Fujimura (New Haven, CT: Yale UP, 2020), and I was pleased to see that Fujimura also looks at John 12 (and John 11) to argue how artists are theologians. Artists, Fujimura suggests, spend time on things that our culture considers a waste of time. Painters spend all day in their studios on one finger of a person’s hand. Musicians practice for months for one hour-long recital. Fujimura contrasts our culture’s impatience and utilitarianism with what he calls a “Lazarus culture” (see ch. 10). Lazarus, you might recall, was Mary’s (and Martha’s) brother who was resuscitated by Jesus after dying. Jesus waited two more days before visiting Lazarus after learning he was ill, and then he raises him from the dead. What was the point in raising him from the dead, Fujimura argues? No point except to show the hope of the resurrection, to show that there is something beyond death. So a Lazarus culture is not utilitarian; it’s a culture where “wasting time” on art and music are essential to being creative people who echo in their own fallible way something of the perfect creativity of God.
Why do we spend hundreds of dollars on real beeswax candles for the altar? Why do we have so much rich art in our church, like works of Samuel Yellin and Davis d’Ambly? Why do we remain committed to funding staff singers and Choral Scholars and increasing pay for our musician while still drawing far too heavily from our investments? Why do we continue to offer public liturgies of Morning and Evening Prayer even when I’m often the only one present? Why do we, as a small parish, hold Sung Masses on feast days, even if only ten people are in the nave? We do all of this because it’s about giving all we have—and the best we have and can give—to God. We don’t offer Mass because we need a full church (although I’d love a full church!). And supporting music and the arts is one of the best uses of our parish’s budget because it reminds us that each and every one of us is called to give extravagantly to God. God doesn’t need our gifts, but we give them anyway.
Precisely when we are short on cash, we give recklessly to God. Exactly when we don’t have enough time to meet with someone, we do it anyway because it’s the kind thing to do. And when others throw mean words our way, we offer an abundance of loving words in return. It’s foolish outside of a Lazarus culture, but in a Lazarus culture, it’s what we do as disciples of our Lord.
I’m thankful that Good Shepherd is a place that is fostering a Lazarus culture. I’m thankful that I’ve never had to argue for supporting music, supporting staff appropriately, and buying good-quality things for our worship. We are not being reckless; we are being faithful. And above all, we are trying to echo in some imperfect way God’s perfect and extravagant (should we say wasteful?) devotion to each and every one of us, no matter how many times we sin and run away from God’s love. Such a God deserves nothing but our very best.
Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle