What is better, indulgence or austerity?

 Sermon for Lent 5, 2025, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY.
Text: John 12:1-8

On my birthday in 2014, I bought a new car. My 2003 Toyota Corolla was beginning to look worn, and my son Michael was going to start driving lessons soon so the car could be his to drive. I had looked at several new cars and the one I settled on was a Toyota Camry. I had three trim packages to consider, and my wife Kim nudged me toward the top package. It felt unnecessary and extravagant to have a sunroof, heated seats, a backup camera, and motion detectors. Keep in mind that I thought power windows were a luxury. “It’s time to indulge yourself. We can afford it,” she said. The car was an indulgence, but it got me to where I needed to go in comfort: to see my daughter in New York, to funerals, to my ordination, and it faithfully took me to Nashville and back multiple times as I cared for my mother in the last three months of her life. Yes, I could have done all of that in a cheaper car, and pledged more to St. Paul’s, but ir was a luxury that I had denied myself for years to pay bills and education, a luxury that provided comfort when I needed comfort. I found that I was going through a very old debate, older than Christianity itself, over which is more virtuous: an austere life, or a pleasurable life. There was also an unspoken question that asked if seeking pleasure was ever justifiable.

This debate is heard in the gospel reading, where Indulgence, extravagance, and austerity are all themes in the reading, and they reminded me of my car purchase. Mary shows her love for Jesus by rubbing in a substantial amount of nard on his feet using her hair, and Judas calls her out on wasting perfume that could have been sold for a year’s worth of wages. Now, he had an ulterior motive for acquiring money, but we’ve heard his words before. Nard is an extract of the spikenard plant and has a woody and earthy aroma. You can buy it today as an essential oil, but it is on the pricey side just as it was expensive in Jesus’ time. The aroma of nard, food, and wine must have contributed to quite an atmosphere with Mary, Martha, the newly resurrected Lazarus, Jesus, and others sitting close together. There were multiple layers of intimacy present, with Mary anointing Jesus’ feet, everyone sharing a meal, and the close-up exchange between Jesus and Judas. There was a lot going on and a lot of emotions being expressed. Mary’s anointing is a prelude to and contrast of a role-reversal, where at the last supper Jesus washes his disciples’ feet, but with water instead of perfume.

Judas goes beyond just calling for austerity from selling the perfume to imply that this was an  either/or situation: either you love Jesus, or you love the poor, but not both. Jesus says no, you can have both when he defends Mary’s care for him, and when he agrees with Judas when he says, “You will always have the poor with you.” Loving the poor and loving Jesus may look different, but they are not mutually exclusive. The ancient debate between austerity and pleasure also appears as Jesus’ call to sell worldly goods to enter the kingdom of God, versus the indulgent self-care he sought when he left to be alone and to pray. Jesus embraced both austerity and self-indulgence, while we experience the tension between austerity and self-care. We experience guilt over indulgence because we identify with Judas’ practicality, and sometimes it appears as vague guilt over buying a car with all sorts of bells and whistles.

There are two other themes in this passage that compliment each other and illuminate the interaction between Mary, Jesus, and Judas. On one hand, yes, we will always have poverty as Jesus points out. That’s why we continue to talk about it, not to harp on it, but to remind ourselves that there is always work to do in the world. On the other hand, Jesus’ death and resurrection that Mary prepares him for gives us a reason to continue to work against sin and poverty. People’s lives are disrupted by personal and natural disasters, and restoration can follow the disaster, but only when we help. Our preparation to help may look like indulgence, but preparation lets us do the practical things when they are needed. Understanding that these two activities are not mutually exclusive means that we know which is appropriate and when. Mary knew when it was time to anoint Jesus’ feet, and Judas knew what Jesus’ mission was in the world. And Jesus brought those two together in the proper order for that moment. There is no need for guilt if we look at pleasure and austerity in the same way.

But how do we balance the pragmatic matters of caring for those in need with indulging in our emotional and spiritual needs and wants? We can’t be too austere and pragmatic as Judas appears to be, or the compassion and mercy that Jesus calls us to is lost in rules and regulations that dictate who gets what and how much. We can’t be too indulgent either, as Mary appears to be, where needs are over-compensated for and those in need are infantilized, and the indulgence becomes the reason for providing care. This is where our cultivated Lenten practice of self-reflection and examination becomes relevant. With those disciplines, we are able to draw boundaries between indulgent self-care that prepares us for service from selfishness and desire for worldly things. We have to be ready to give it all away. We draw boundaries between truly providing assistance and making a big deal of it. We are motivated by selfless love to provide what is needed without the taint of expecting something in return or showing off how “Christian” we are.

So guilt is not needed or expected if we indulge ourselves, as long as it is not at the expense of following the call to serve. Austerity is not to be celebrated unless it leads to real, selfless assistance that is needed. Indulgence is acceptable when it is part of self-care. There is a time and place for each, and we can let go of the need to always justify self-indulgence or austerity, and get on with caring for all in the world, ourselves, and those in need. We need Mary’s extravagance in our lives as much as we need Judas’ reminder of who needs our help.