Pure Nard
Picture the scene: Jesus and his disciples have returned to Bethany and the home of Mary,
Martha, and Lazarus. The last time they visited, Lazarus had been dead four days and the air was
thick with weeping and wailing. The disciples saw Jesus himself weep at the tomb, perhaps for
the first time. Then they watched with amazement as he called forth Lazarus and the dead man
walked out, restored to life. There was such a stir that the Temple authorities got involved.
Afraid that the Romans would suspect a riot and sweep in to destroy everything, they plotted to
put Jesus to death.
And now here everyone was, right back in Bethany. The air was electric with excitement and
danger. Lazarus greeted them at the door. Martha, ever the good host, made them dinner. (Had
she been English, she would have made them a nice cup of tea.) Mary, still extravagant, brought
in a sealed jar and broke it open. Suddenly the room was filled with the overpowering musky
scent of nard, one of the most costly and powerful perfumes available. She poured this oil over
the feet of Jesus and wiped them with her long hair. The smell was so strong that some of the
disciples started sneezing. People walking by stopped at the door, wondering what was going on.
In the midst of a sneezing fit, Judas Iscariot was muttering. The money bag he kept was getting
empty because he was in the habit of dipping his hand into it. He wasn’t so crazy about a
wandering life with uncertain meals and dusty roads and a meager wardrobe, and justified
himself in providing some comforts out of the common purse. Just the same, he’d like to
replenish it a bit so his sticky fingers wouldn’t be noticed.
“Why waste all that expensive perfume?” Judas asked. “It could have been sold for three
hundred days’ wages! The money could have been used for better clothes…I mean, given to the
poor.” Jesus looked and saw right through him. Judas hated that. Jesus said, “Leave her alone.
She’s keeping it for my burial. You’ll always have the poor around – because there will always
be selfish people like you, Judas – but you won’t always have me.”
As usual, the other disciples silently watched the interchange. There’s that death talk again. Jesus
said that Mary anointed him for his burial. When will that be? And what kind of anointing is
that? The only time someone gets anointed when alive is if they’re a king. And sure enough,
when Jesus walked into Jerusalem the next day, people cut down palm branches and treated him
like royalty.
We’re on the road with those disciples, this confusing, dusty road that leads to death. What we
know, and what they didn’t, is that the road doesn’t stop with death. It leads through death to
resurrection. It’s a road we walk with Jesus. Next week we’ll wave palm branches and sing
Hosanna. We’ll watch and listen as it all comes crashing down. We’ll stand at the cross,
weeping. We’ll keep vigil at the tomb. And then when light dawns on the Sunday of
Resurrection, Easter Day, we’ll find that tomb empty. The king anointed for burial will have
broken forth. The promise of life beyond death will have been made. And instead of dust in our
mouths, we will smell again the costly fragrance of pure nard.
[Lent 5: John 12:1-8.]
Pure Nard
Picture the scene: Jesus and his disciples have returned to Bethany and
the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. The last time they visited,
Lazarus had been dead four days and the air was thick with weeping and
wailing. The disciples saw Jesus himself weep at the tomb, perhaps for
the first time. Then they watched with amazement as he called forth
Lazarus and the dead man walked out, restored to life. There was such a
stir that the Temple authorities got involved. Afraid that the Romans
would suspect a riot and sweep in to destroy everything, they plotted to
put Jesus to death.
And now here everyone was, right back in Bethany. The air was electric
with excitement and danger. Lazarus greeted them at the door. Martha,
ever the good host, made them dinner. (Had she been English, she would
have made them a nice cup of tea.) Mary, still extravagant, brought in a
sealed jar and broke it open. Suddenly the room was filled with the
overpowering musky scent of nard, one of the most costly and powerful
perfumes available. She poured this oil over the feet of Jesus and wiped
them with her long hair. The smell was so strong that some of the
disciples started sneezing. People walking by stopped at the door,
wondering what was going on.
In the midst of a sneezing fit, Judas Iscariot was muttering. The money
bag he kept was getting empty because he was in the habit of dipping his
hand into it. He wasn’t so crazy about a wandering life with uncertain
meals and dusty roads and a meager wardrobe, and justified himself in
providing some comforts out of the common purse. Just the same, he’d
like to replenish it a bit so his sticky fingers wouldn’t be noticed.
“Why waste all that expensive perfume?” Judas asked. “It could have
been sold for three hundred days’ wages! The money could have been
used for better clothes…I mean, given to the poor.” Jesus looked and
saw right through him. Judas hated that. Jesus said, “Leave her alone.
She’s keeping it for my burial. You’ll always have the poor around –
because there will always be selfish people like you, Judas – but you
won’t always have me.”
As usual, the other disciples silently watched the interchange. There’s
that death talk again. Jesus said that Mary anointed him for his burial.
When will that be? And what kind of anointing is that? The only time
someone gets anointed when alive is if they’re a king. And sure enough,
when Jesus walked into Jerusalem the next day, people cut down palm
branches and treated him like royalty.
We’re on the road with those disciples, this confusing, dusty road that
leads to death. What we know, and what they didn’t, is that the road
doesn’t stop with death. It leads through death to resurrection. It’s a road
we walk with Jesus. Next week we’ll wave palm branches and sing
Hosanna. We’ll watch and listen as it all comes crashing down. We’ll
stand at the cross, weeping. We’ll keep vigil at the tomb. And then when
light dawns on the Sunday of Resurrection, Easter Day, we’ll find that
tomb empty. The king anointed for burial will have broken forth. The
promise of life beyond death will have been made. And instead of dust
in our mouths, we will smell again the costly fragrance of pure nard.
[Lent 5: John 12:1-8.]