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Tuesday was eventful. There was chatter the entire way back to Bethany from Jerusalem that evening.
Jesus—the Priest (the High Priest) held court—the temple court. After he had in essence dismissed the scribes and teachers of the law that had greeted us that morning, he took command of the temple. For the remainder of the day he taught authoritatively, with power—with unction. As I lay down to sleep last night I couldn’t help but thank God for the chance to be in on this moment in history. We are so grateful for our friends in Bethany who show us the grace of hospitality. My last thought as I fell asleep was: Is he King? Is he Priest? What will tomorrow hold? Wednesday Judas stared with disdain and disgust at Mary. “Clueless woman,” he may have thought to himself. She just wasted, wasted, a pint of pure nard perfume from India! Has she any idea that she just poured a year’s salary on “her Lord’s” feet? He could hear her voice in his head as she had on numerous occasions referred to Jesus as “her Master.” And here she is again sitting at his feet, except this time she was wiping his feet with her hair and the perfume. Mary often found herself at Jesus’ feet. When she and Martha had first opened their home to this Rabbi and his followers, she was overwhelmed by his strength and simplicity. When he spoke he spoke with authority and with compassion, unlike the religious leaders whom they had all grown accustomed to hearing. He did not boast; he was not proud or self-promoting. He was not angry or self-righteous. No, there was in Jesus a sense of Something beyond. When he spoke truth, it was full of hope in the Father. When Mary listened to Jesus and sat with him she felt that hope and an inexplicable peace. She was drawn to him, not in a romantic sense—but something much deeper, much richer, much more substantial. So when Jesus, the Teacher, came to their home for the first time she couldn’t help but to place herself at his feet to listen. Having chosen (in Jesus’ words) what is better—the one thing that is needed. Willing. Humbly. Worshipfully. A little while later Mary’s brother, Lazarus, died. It was a very confusing time for Mary and Martha. As their brother lay dying, they sent some messengers from their home in Bethany to Jerusalem which was just two miles away to tell Jesus that they needed him to come and heal their brother. They knew that Jesus had the power and authority to heal the sick, and they had heard countless stories of his doing just that for complete strangers. Surely, he would heal his good friend Lazarus. But Jesus did not come. Neither Martha nor Mary understood. Lazarus was dead for four days before Jesus and his disciples make the short journey to Bethany and when he asked for Mary, she came running from the house, weeping and falling again at Jesus’ feet. Empty. Desperate. Thirsty. Now, just days before the Passover, Jesus, the disciples, Martha, Lazarus, and Mary were invited by Simon the Leper, a man whom Jesus had probably healed, to a dinner in Jesus’ honor. Seventeen guests arrived; Martha served; Lazarus reclined at the table with Jesus. The disciples laughed and shared stories of the last several days. Jesus, however, was quiet—not moody, but reflective; he knew that his time was drawing to a close; he knew the evil days that lay ahead of him that week. He had tried to prepare the disciples and those closest to him, but he knew they didn’t understand……yet. (John 12.16) Then, through the cacophony of conversation, they each heard the breaking of the vial; they smelled the sweet fragrance of perfume as it wafted and filled the house of Simon the Leper. There she was again sitting at the feet of Jesus. Quietly. Lovingly. Reverently. What was she doing?! She was silent. She was absorbed in thought, but not with the thought of self-no, she was consumed with the Teacher reclining at the table. She poured the pure nard perfume on Jesus’ feet and taking her hair, began to wipe his feet. Jesus knew that once again that Mary understood what the others did not. Somehow more keenly aware of the impending death of Jesus, Mary gave everything and wasted nothing. She was preparing him for burial. But this custom was typically done as matter of course after a person had died—not before. Perhaps because she had listened more intently and intuitively; perhaps prompted by the Spirit of God, Mary anointed the body of Jesus before his death since his body would never see corruption. “Clueless woman," thought Judas. He was standing off in the shadows of the room. Mumbling. Detached. Over the last several months he had become increasingly negative and withdrawn from the Jesus and the other disciples. He claimed that he had a lot of responsibility taking care of the moneybag. The truth is that he had become sick with greed. Perhaps Judas had come to realize at this point that he was not going to be the Chief of Finance in a political kingdom set up by Jesus—and he was now resigned to getting what he could out of his time so he began to embezzle from the treasury. “Doesn’t he know that we could feed the poor for a year with what we could have sold that bottle of perfume for?” he whispered to those nearest him. Several of the other disciples were sucked into this line of thinking as well and became indignant, pious, self-righteous. “Yeah, why is he letting Mary (extravagant Mary) waste that on him. If she had to perfume him why couldn’t she have just let a little bit do the job and we could have sold the rest if she didn’t want it.” “You foolish woman! Do you not realize that we could have sold that perfume for a laborers annual salary! Why are you so wasteful when those around us have so little? Do you know how much ministry we could have done with the sale of that perfume? We would have a much easier time feeding the next group of 5000 that Jesus asks us to feed. We wouldn’t have to go around begging for hand-outs! Did you not hear what Jesus told the rich, young ruler: Go and sell all your possessions and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven.” “ENOUGH! Leave her alone! Why are you bothering her?! She has done a beautiful thing to me. It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me." Mary’s face brightened. Misunderstood, again, by those around her, understood by the Master. He understood what it was to be misunderstood! Oh how she loved him. He saw in her what others missed. He knew her like no one else. In his presence she felt transparent, yet confident. In his presence she felt weak, yet he strong. In his presence she felt free to be herself and to give her self without inhibition. In his presence she felt like Mary. “I tell you the truth…”, Jesus began. The disciples knew that when he began a sentence with these words that they had better pay attention. It was one of those cues that they good teachers had learned to utilize in order to catch the attention of their students so that they would know “this stuff will be on the test!” “I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what Mary has done today will also be told, in memory of her.” Mary still sat at his feet. The silence of the moment was broken as Judas turned, left, and the door shut behind him. He criticized Mary for “wasting money” but he wasted his whole life. |
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