Sunrise in the Orange Grove

 

Monday, April 11, 2022

Six days before the Passover celebration began, Jesus arrived in Bethany, the home of Lazarus—the man he had raised from the dead.  A dinner was prepared in Jesus’ honor.  Martha served, and Lazarus was among those who ate with him.  Then Mary took a twelve-ounce jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard, and she anointed Jesus’ feet with it, wiping his feet with her hair.  The house was filled with the fragrance.  But Judas Iscariot, the disciple who would soon betray him, said, “That perfume was worth a year’s wages.  It should have been sold and the money given to the poor.”  Not that he cared for the poor—he was a thief, and since he was in charge of the disciples’ money, he often stole some for himself.  Jesus replied, “Leave her alone.  She did this in preparation for my burial.  You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”  When all the people heard of Jesus’ arrival, they flocked to see him and also to see Lazarus, the man Jesus had raised from the dead.  Then the leading priests decided to kill Lazarus, too, for it was because of him that many of the people had deserted them and believed in Jesus.  John 12:1-11

When we moved back to Florida in early 1983 after attending seminary, the first church we served was in McIntosh.  There were no apple trees, but the neighboring little town was (appropriately) named Orange Lake.  There was a small lake, and the most northern stand of orange groves in Florida.  Easter sunrise service on April 3^rd was overlooking the lake, surrounded by orange trees; the overwhelming aroma was provided by sunrise and orange blossoms.

After 39 years the memory of that day has shards of scented snapshots:

·       a layman preaching to a gathered assembly of Presbyterians, Disciples, Methodists, Baptists, and the curious cultural seekers,

·       and the mud…a trail between the orange trees in full blossom, on a forty-degree morning. 

·       The faint whine of a portable generator powering a scratchy portable sound system, and

·       the fog concealing the lake next to the grove. 

But one of the pictures remains vivid and unwrinkled, it is how clearly the scent of orange blossoms in early spring covered the smell of diesel fumes from the tractor that hauled the flatbed trailer, upon which the gathered choir from 6 churches stood next to the squelching sound system. 

Many years prior a woman brought such a fragrance to the table, anointing Jesus’ feet, and, of all things, wiping those sacred feet with her hair.  And, many years later, on this morning, remembering the smell of orange blossoms in a town named for apples, the message of a savior, prepared for death by a seeker, offering the best she had.  And the fragrances conjoined – a sacrifice that lasts.

Past the cross and empty tomb, perhaps for weeks, wherever Mary went, that sweet aroma in her hair filled the rooms – a reminder of sacrifice and salvation, of offering and joy…the hair that wiped the savior’s feet still carried the unmistakable memory of God’s loving presence.

For You Today

You have memories, plenty of them.  If there are rememberances of simple joys, the smile, a caring lift to your day, an unexpected laugh, the kinds of things that inspired and intrigued you, draw on the these lingering fragrances.  And remember Mary’s hair, and the sweet odor of sacrifice.  It was very costly, and totally free…for you.

You chew on that as you hit the Rocky Road; have a blessed day!  

[1] Title image: Pixabay.com   Unless noted, Scripture quoted from The New Living Translation^©