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Dear Friends,
While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”
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Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. When they heard it, they were greatly pleased, and promised to give him money. So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him (Mark 14:3-10).
It is a night for gratitude and celebration. Simon the Leper, literally condemned to rot away in shame, has been restored to health and home by Jesus.
Sure, they still call him “the Leper,” and his face burns red with humiliation every time. But he is a grateful man. Even the feel of the heat on his cheeks is a mercy. There was a time when his flesh would crumble away and he wouldn’t even know it until someone would scream out some new epithet of horror and revulsion.
He’s never thanked Jesus properly and that’s what this party is about.
Jesus is the guest of honor, of course. He comes in with his closest disciples, the twelve that accompany him everywhere. Friends of Simon are also here. Simon wanted this to be a small, intimate affair in keeping with the gratitude in his heart and his desire to converse with Jesus. But this is Judea where people show up in droves for a good meal and a theological discussion. Hospitality requires that he bring everyone inside.
It doesn’t feel like a party. There is tension in the room. It’s almost Passover, and the crowds are already coming through on their way to Jerusalem. Some people think that Jesus will make his move to lead the people against the Romans. The Sadducees and religion scholars think Jesus is a fraud and a poseur leading a dangerous mob. They fear that he will stir the Romans to a violent repression of the nation. There are rumors that they want to see Jesus dead.
The Pharisees consider him blasphemous and a danger to public morals because he doesn’t see the law the way they do. The Essenes, well, the Essenes don’t think any one is good enough. The Zealots just want to fight and believe that it is time to rise against the Romans.
For many here, everything seems to come down to a cause and its price. They demand to know the purpose and the usefulness of all things. It is doubtful that “gratitude” appears in their vocabularies, not to mention their hearts.
There are a few healed lepers who join Simon in his gratitude. They’ve glimpsed the underside of nothing and know they have no claim to anything. Yet, Jesus gave them mercy. Until you’ve been so far down a dark, dry well that the only light you saw at noon were the stars in the night sky, you likely don’t realize that the only thing you need is a Savior and you are overwhelmed with appreciation when Jesus shows up.
Wait a minute. There is Mary across the room. What is she doing here?
She’s a local woman from a good family, kind of the “black sheep,” if you know what I mean. Like Simon she is grateful to Jesus–for acceptance, for forgiveness for a healed heart.
Mary walks right up to Jesus, breaks the neck off an exquisitely carved alabaster jar and pours out its contents over Jesus’ head. It runs down his face and drips on his robe.
A strong, but clean musk–the scent of earth brought alive by spring rain–emanates from Jesus and washes over all of us. Those in the know identify the substance as spikenard, a thick, fragrant oil associated in folk medicine with the comfort of deep grief or chronic pain. It is made from the crushed roots of a valerian plant that grows in the mountains of Asia. It is rare and fabulously expensive.
The fragrance floods out the conversations around the table. There is a pause.
What is to be made of this boldness . . . audacity . . . lavish gesture . . . outrageous extravagance . . . waste . . . abuse of what could fund bread lines and soup kitchens if possessed by more responsible hands?
Talk re-ignites with murmurs and the flames of anger rise higher with each comment and question. These are troubled times with serious issues.
The Pharisees and religious scholars present, roll their eyes and say, “This is the kind of spectacle that you get when you don’t honor tradition and respect the rules.”
Jesus’ disciples cannot conceal their resentment, “Woman, do you know what we could have done with the money that you’ve thrown away here. What were you thinking? Why, you could have sold that jar for a year’s wages. Don’t you know that without a margin, we have no mission?”
The words are like cold fingers grabbing at her heart, seeking to wrest away the grace from her to be used for a better purpose. Judas seems to have the longest reach and strongest grasp.
It is Judas’ way to take, to direct, to manipulate if necessary, but always to be useful. Mercy is for those who need help. Judas helps, but he doesn’t need help. Not him.
Judas lives his whole life as an answer. It galls him that Jesus never asks the question.
Jesus smiles at Mary. Mary smiles at Jesus through her tears. There is something they seem to know that the others present don’t comprehend, at least right away.
Can it be that the greatest devotion is not service, prudence, piety or even emulation?
Yes, the greatest love of all is worship that costs the worshiper everything — because then there is no price, no condition, no doubt to shadow the devotion.
This is “nothing-else-matters” worship, rarer and more precious than countless alabaster jars filled with nard. This worship can only rise fresh and pure from a heart surrendered and willing to give itself away in love–with no holdback. It is, therefore, a love true even to the death of the giver.
Mary’s gift meets the passion in Jesus’ own heart soon to be poured out on the ground beneath the cross until it is finished, once and for all.
Jesus, for his part, knows that if he can stir such a love in a human heart, then it is worth it to go through the pain, the insults, the rejection, and the misunderstandings — through to the grave itself — for love’s sake.
Jesus speaks over the indignant critics and the calculating zealots. “Leave her alone,” he says. “This is a beautiful thing that she’s done to me. You are always going to have poor to help, but me not so much. So she did what she could. She has anointed my body before hand to prepare it for burial. I tell you, the story of what she’s done here is going to be told all over the world, wherever and whenever the gospel is preached.”
The ultimate Truth has found its appreciation.
Judas, despairing that he can ever get Jesus to do what he wants, goes and makes his best deal with the other side.
“O taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are those who take refuge in him.” Psalm 34:8
Under the mercy of Christ,
Kent
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Kent Hansen is a Christian attorney, author and speaker. He practices corporate law and is the managing attorney of the firm of Clayson, Mann, Yaeger & Hansen in Corona, California. Kent also serves as the general counsel of Loma Linda University and Medical Center in Loma Linda, California.