Generosity, Part 2: Giving honors Jesus (Luke 8:1-3 & John 12:1-8)
Generosity, Part 2: Giving Honors Jesus
November 2, 2025
Luke 8:1-3 & John 12:1-8
By: Pastor Mike Conner
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The word for ‘saints’ in both Hebrew, the language of the Old Testament, and Greek, the language of the New, comes from the adjective “holy.” Literally, saints are “holy ones.” And being holy means being set apart for a special purpose, being sacred.
Some saints are simply made by God. There come times when God needs a certain kind of person, and God breaks through directly to claim them. How else do you explain a person like Paul, who carried the Gospel to the Gentiles; or Francis of Assisi, who took a vow of poverty in an era when the Church was bloated with riches; or John Wesley, who sought solidarity with the masses of factory workers in newly industrialized England; or Martin Luther King Jr, who planted his dream for an end of poverty and racism in the memory of our own nation. Some saints are raised up, to borrow a phrase from the book of Esther, “for such a time as this” (Esther 4:14). But I believe that this is the exception rather than the rule.
Most saints are ordinary people working ordinary jobs in ordinary communities. You might be rubbing shoulders with some of them right now. What distinguishes these saints is that, in the midst of their so-called ordinary lives, they have fallen in love with Jesus and become captivated by his ministry. Jesus, to these saints, is so good, so sweet, so true and trustworthy, that he and his concerns become the preeminent priority of their own hearts. By ‘his concerns’ I mean Jesus’ special love for the socially vulnerable, the wounded and grieving, the written-off, the stranger. Such unequivocal commitment to Christ among “the least of these” is so rare that these ‘ordinary saints’ feel magnetic, dense, beautiful. They strike us as being apart – not by perfection or fame, but by love.
On this All Saints’ Sunday, we are going to spend a moment with a few early servants of Jesus – Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and Mary of Bethany – who loved Jesus and his ministry profoundly. These are the women who accompanied Jesus from the start and stuck with him to the end – even beyond the end when they became the first witnesses of his resurrection. We must confess that they have been undervalued in mainstream Christian history and tradition. But, thankfully, Luke gives them, and other women, too, a robust place in his Gospel.
At the beginning of chapter 8, Luke offers this snapshot of Jesus’ ministry: “Soon afterward [Jesus] went on through one town and village after another, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him…” (Lk 8:1). And this is how most of us are accustomed to imagining it: Jesus on the move, preaching, with his twelve male disciples. Yet Luke adds, perhaps to our surprise: “The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities…who ministered to them out of their own resources” (Lk 8:1-3). Here we have a fuller picture: men and women, proclamation and healing, Jesus taking care of people and people taking care of Jesus.
Luke names some of these ministers: “Mary Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out. Joanna, wife of Herod’s steward Chuza. Susanna, and many others.” Jesus had cured them “of evil spirits and sicknesses” (Lk 8:1), and now they are among his companions.
That’s why they’re with him. First, they had gone to him for healing. Now they go with him to care for him, to make sure that others can experience what they experienced. They and others like them went with Jesus so that they might minister to him out of their own resources. One of the cultural assumptions about women in those days was that they didn’t have resources of their own. Everything ‘really’ belonged to their fathers, husbands, or sons. And the only viable role of a woman was to bear children, raise a family, and keep house.
But Jesus treated women as equals, counted their gifts as really coming from them. The word used here for “resources” is clearly material: possessions, funds. Joanna seems to be a woman with rather unique access to economic power; her husband, Chuza, manages Herod’s household and finances. But resources, the things one has accumulated, might also mean personal connections, stories, or spiritual gifts like wisdom, hospitality, and prayer.
These women, already considered second-class citizens, had also been afflicted by demons and sicknesses, driven even further to the fringes of their communities.
But not too far for Jesus.
Not even Mary Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out.
He met them, and he helped them; now they help him. It’s that simple.
Their service is a response of gratitude for his love. And they’re also confident in what his ministry can bring to others like them in their communities.
They have firsthand experience of it. It excites and animates them.
They want to support it.
Jesus empowered women and welcomed their children – and they loved him for it.
Jesus met the people where they actually were, not where he thought they ought to be – and they loved him for it.
He built fellowship with everyone, “sinners and tax collectors,” fishermen and soldiers – and they loved him for it.
He understood that people needed daily bread as much as they needed eternal life – and they loved him for it.
And Jesus was able to keep paying attention to others for free because there were people alongside him supporting the vision.
How marvelous! How wonderful!
And my song shall ever be:
How marvelous! How wonderful!
Is my Savior’s love for me!1
If the women named in Luke chapter 8 show us one aspect of the saints, that they, having been touched by Jesus’ love, commit to go with him and support his ongoing work day by day, then Mary of Bethany, whose story is told in John chapter 12, shows us another aspect.
She offers an example of spontaneous extravagance, giving to Jesus her very best gift without reservation, simply because the moment called for it, was elevated by it, and because it honored him.
Sensing the nearness of his betrayal, arrest, and death, Jesus sought out the company of his friends in the town of Bethany, not far from Jerusalem. He needed respite, and when he knocked on their door, it was flung wide for him. They prepared a meal; they gathered company. They lavished love on the Suffering Servant. Though it might sound surprising, this is love that Jesus needed – and even that need of his was part of his redeeming work.
He had to be like us in this way, including in our need for help, so that he could understand what we go through from the inside out. Before his ministry ever began, Jesus was tempted by Satan in the Judean wilderness, and he refused to turn stones into bread for himself. Jesus’ “weakness” made space for those around him to come into their purpose, to give of themselves, to participate.
At that dinner party in Bethany something unforgettable happened.
“I Stand Amazed in the Presence,” refrain.
Mary came before Jesus carrying a jar of pure, costly perfume, and in one great sweeping motion poured its contents onto his feet. Immediately, a woody, spicy fragrance erupted into the air, invading every nose and overpowering every other sensation. “The house was filled with the fragrance of her perfume.” The moment and every subsequent memory of it was suffused by the effects of her gift. A pound of perfume is a lot of perfume. Many years later, getting even the slightest whiff of it would transport those present back to that night in Bethany.
And, as with Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susannah, Mary of Bethany offered this gift to Jesus because she loved him. She was with him because she had first come to him. She had come to him when her brother, Lazarus, had died, a story told in John chapter 11. She had asked for his help. She had shed sacred tears in his presence. And he, too, had wept in compassion and shared her grief. Then he had raised Lazarus back to life.
Now, Lazarus is reclining at the table with Jesus, and in response to this wholly unexpected communion of friends, something she had though was lost forever, Mary brings her very best gift, and pours all of it out.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
The great Swiss theologian Karl Barth once wrote, “It is clear that this deed of Mary’s describes the life of the apostles… [T]his is what is to take place in the world through their life—the whole house is to be filled with the odour [sic] of the ointment.”
“When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” verse 4.
Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, II.2, 462.
In other words, the Church ought to be filling the atmosphere of its community with signs and sensations and memories of unforgettable love. And the way that we begin to do that is by ministering to Jesus out of our own resources.
So what does that mean, exactly?
It means supporting Jesus where he has promised to be: in his Body, the Church; and in “the least of these” – the hungry and houseless, the sick and incarcerated.
When we provide out of our own resources for the community of faith, we are providing for him. When we serve the most vulnerable in our world, we are serving him.
And these two avenues of support are not really separated from one another, because who are we, if not a people who have been met by his love?
What has Jesus done for you?
Has he forgiven you?
Has he embraced you? Has he stuck by you through the uncertainty of change or the agony of your grief?
Has he lifted you up and given you a purpose, written you in when everyone else had written you off?
Has he scattered your accusers, brought you into community where you can be your authentic self?
Has he freed you from debt, from addiction, from isolation, from hatred?
Has he gone with you through the valley of the shadow death, and kept you from fear and from harm?
Has he given you a place to exercise your desire for justice and peace, grounded in a sacred vision of the meaningfulness of every life?
What has Jesus done for you?
We are his Church when we can answer this. We are his saints when we respond to what he has done with what we can do.
We must keep holding space for others who have not yet met this unconditional love, and we must keep refining our ways of sharing it. May it be our delightful duty to support him out of our own resources, for his goodness has made its claim on our life and its energies. And may our service contain both the patience and the spontaneity of love.
I surrender all,
I surrender all,
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.4
In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit: Amen.
“I Surrender All,” refrain.
Prayer for All Saints
By Gracie Morbitzer of Modern Saints
How blessed we are to have all you holy folks there for us
to learn about and to lean on.
How blessed we are to hear of your failures,
your triumph,
your humanness along the way.
How blessed we are to have your company
through any kind of trial,
for any type of intention.
How blessed we are to be inspired by your hope,
amazed by your love,
challenged by your diversity,
comforted by your company.
Be with us as we continue your work
and strive to create our own change
with our own talents and gifts,
just as you did –
and may we join you at the end of the day.
Amen.
Luke 8:1-3, New Living Translation
1 Soon afterward Jesus began a tour of the nearby towns and villages, preaching and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom of God. He took his twelve disciples with him, 2 along with some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases. Among them were Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons; 3 Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod’s business manager; Susanna; and many others who were contributing from their own resources to support Jesus and his disciples.
John 12:1-8, New Living Translation
1 Six days before the Passover celebration began, Jesus arrived in Bethany, the home of Lazarus—the man he had raised from the dead. 2 A dinner was prepared in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, and Lazarus was among those who ate with him. 3 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.
4 But Judas Iscariot, the disciple who would soon betray him, said, 5 “That perfume was worth a year’s wages. It should have been sold and the money given to the poor.” 6 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.
7 Jesus replied, “Leave her alone. She did this in preparation for my burial. 8 You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”