Lectionary for April 6, 2025
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Isaiah 43:16-21; Psalm 126;
Philippians 3:4b-14; John 12:1-8
Have you ever tried to forget something? It doesn’t usually work very well. How can we intentionally cease to call something to mind? If anything, trying to forget something makes it stick in our memories even more. Whether it’s an unpleasant childhood memory, recalling something our spouse did that hurt us, or even a slight at work that we can’t seem to let go of, memory is a tricky thing. It’s even trickier when we have a good memory that we need to forget. Maybe there was a shining moment with a former spouse or a favorite memory from a previous job that gets in the way of happiness in the current moment. Whether it’s letting go of good or bad memories, forgetting can be essential for moving on.
In this week’s lectionary readings, we have four instances of putting the past behind so that folks can move forward into the future that God has for them.
The first instance of forgetting the past comes as a command from God. The prophet mentions the salvific event in the Hebrew Bible: rescuing the Israelites and those with them from Egypt through the Sea of Reeds. But then Isaiah’s scroll tells the people to not remember that (after just reminding them …). Instead, God will do something even bigger and more impressive. The exiles taken by Babylon (and their children) will return to the promised land. No longer will God make a dry way through the sea. Instead, God will make a well-watered path through the dry places (Isaiah 43:19-20). This inversion of God’s previous redemption will be so miraculous that even the jackals and ostriches will praise God!
But while the desert animals praise God, the redeemed humans also have a song to sing. Psalm 126 is one of my favorites because it’s part of the psalms of ascent, or pilgrim psalms, that Israelites would sing as they ascended to the Jerusalem temple. This particular psalm tells of the battle within survivors of national trauma—the battle to praise in the moment after surviving horror. They have been like dried up streambeds in the Negeb, as they have felt that all life is gone. But the community surrounds them and sings that they who sowed in tears will harvest with joyful shouts. Those who were restored initially felt like they were dreaming but soon had mouths filled with laughter and shouts of joy (2). They don’t completely forget the former things, but they do loosen the grip that the past trauma has on them.
Forgetting is not the goal for its own sake, but rather to make space for—and open eyes to—what God is doing in the here and now.
Paul also needs to let go of the past so he can fully embrace his future. He lists all his credentials and reasons to be proud of himself. But then he says he counts them all as loss, compared to the value of knowing Jesus and the power of his resurrection (Philippians 3:7, 10).
Finally, we have the story of Mary’s anointing of Jesus in Bethany. Mary, very much remembering that her brother had died and was returned to life by Jesus, takes a bottle of profoundly expensive perfume (maybe $20,000 in rough equivalency), pours it on Jesus’ feet and wipes it up with her hair. Judas raises a stink (get it?) at Mary’s mark of devotion, saying the money should have been given to him … er, the poor.
This objection is particularly galling, given the context. They are, after all, in the “house of the poor,” Bet Ani, where Mary, Martha and Lazarus work day in and day out at a pilgrim’s hospice and leprosy hospital. If anyone is fulfilling the command that Jesus references—to care for the poor with an open hand and not drive them away (Deuteronomy 15:11), it is Mary and Martha.
When working with nonprofits, I know how easy it is to criticize as frivolous any spending that doesn’t further the mission. I can imagine Mary’s co-workers (but not Judas) being furious at her for spending that much money for a passing act of anointing feet that will just get dirty again the next day. But Mary is looking forward, not backward. This blessed saint will certainly continue her work of mercy and compassion in the poorhouse. But she will do so as a disciple of the crucified and risen Messiah, who she had to anoint for his upcoming burial (John 12:8).
Returned exiles, snobby persecutors and even hospice workers are all called to let go of the past, to not “remember the former things.” Forgetting is not the goal for its own sake, but rather to make space for—and open eyes to—what God is doing in the here and now.
