John 12:1-8 Then Jesus six days before the passover came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, which had been dead, whom he raised from the dead.… When Jesus lay, a helpless Infant, in the manger at Bethlehem, there came strangers from the East and poured rich offerings at his feet - gold and frankincense and myrrh; and now that he was about to leave the world, an unexpected act of homage was done to him, not indeed by a stranger, but by a gentle and unobtrusive disciple. The occasion was this. Our Lord, weary with his journey from the country beyond Jordan, his last long earthly journey, was resting the last sabbath of his earthly life at his favorite Bethany. There they made him a supper, and the disciples were present, and Martha was in waiting, and Lazarus, as might be expected, was a noted guest. It was then that Mary took her pound of ointment of spikenard, very costly - we may well suppose the most precious thing which she possessed - and poured it on Jesus' feet as he reclined at the banquet, and wiped his feet with her hair. The evangelist takes care to note that "the house was filled with the odor of the ointment," and it has been beautifully said that" the Church, which is the house of God, still smells the fragrance, of that woman's spikenard;" for how wonderfully have the words of Jesus, which we may borrow from another Gospel, been fulfilled, "Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be told for a memorial of her"! And how does the consciousness of his own Divine authority burst forth in these words of Jesus! Who else was ever certain that by a simple word he could make an action memorable till the end of time? Consider - I. THE MOTIVES OF MARY'S ACT OF HOMAGE. One of them at least lies on the surface. Jesus had not been in Bethany since he raised Lazarus from the dead; and when Mary saw her brother sitting at the same table with him who turned her mourning into joy, could any gift be too great or precious to express her gratitude? "Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits: But he was dead, and there he sits; And he that brought him back is there." This was enough; but there was a deeper obligation still. It was not in vain that Mary herself had sat at Jesus' feet and heard his Word. She knew that he was the Christ, the Savior of the world. He had come to deliver her and all believers from a deeper darkness than that of the tomb, and a death more terrible than the death of the body. Gentle and amiable as she was, she could not receive the gift of eternal life without "dying unto sin;" and who can doubt that it was with a contrite and forgiven heart that she poured her precious ointment on the feet of Jesus? This gave the alabaster box its highest value. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit." But once more. Had Mary the impression that so fitting an opportunity of testifying her gratitude to the Redeemer might never occur again? She was not called, like his disciples, to follow him from place to place as he went about preaching the kingdom, and the visits of Jesus to Bethany were necessarily few in number. She could not, indeed, have foreseen all that was coming so soon - the conspiracy, the betrayal, the cross of agony and shame. She could not have known that on the very next sabbath her beloved Master would be lying cold and still in Joseph's sepulcher. But, on the other hand, Jesus had spoken again and again to his disciples of his approaching death and departure to the Father. They indeed were incredulous; but some report of his words would reach Mary's ears. An undefined presentiment that her Master was not to be long upon earth may well have arisen in her mind, and all the more eagerly would she seize the present opportunity of doing him honor. Hence "she did what she could." II. THE GENERAL MURMUR. While the house was filled with the odor of the ointment, a murmur of dissatisfaction arose. It came first from the lips of the traitor. "Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred pence [about £10], and given to the poor? and this he said, not that he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief," etc. This picture of the son of perdition is almost too painful to dwell upon. His blindness to the moral loveliness of Mary's action. His vexation at losing an imagined chance of plunder. His avarice, his jealousy; and, worst of all, his mask so readily assumed of zeal for the cause of the poor! So ripe was he for Satan's last temptation, that the next thing we read of him is his stealing away to the priests at Jerusalem to bargain with them about his Master's blood, and sell his own soul. "When lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death." But while Judas stood alone in his covetousness and hypocrisy, we learn from the Gospel of Matthew that others joined him in his censure of Mary of Bethany. The disciples said, "To what purpose is this waste?" Their common thought was, "This sacrifice is too great, too costly for the occasion. The spikenard is of great price. Surely it would have been better to bestow its value on the poor. To spend it on an evanescent fragrance is extravagance and waste." Here pause for a moment. Are we certain that, had we ourselves been present, we might not have joined in the rising murmur? At all events, how often has the spirit of the censure broken out afresh? It is not so long ago since the Churches of our own country awoke to the duty of preaching Christ to the heathen world. But missions are costly things, and often they produce but little visible fruit for many days. They seem to spend their fragrance on the desert air. And how long and loud was this complaint! - "'To what purpose is this waste?' Might not the money and labor of Christian people be better bestowed? Are there not poor at home to be fed and clothed? and are there not home-heathen to be taught? Let such duties as these be exhausted before thinking of 'the regions beyond.'" No! Utility is one standard of action; but both in the service of God and man it is far from being the only standard. III. THE VERDICT OF JESUS. "Let her alone: against the day of my burial hath she kept this." Instead of directly rebuking the disciple, he contents himself with vindicating her whom they were wounding with their words. But there is more in his words than meets the ear. "Let her alone," he seems to say to Judas," for there is nothing in common between her and you, between a child of light and a child of darkness. And let her alone, ye unthinking disciples. Allow her gratitude to flow unchecked in the channel which it has worn for itself. Why trouble ye the woman at such a moment as this? She hath done what she could, and she hath done more than any of you are aware of, for my hour is near at hand. If ye saw her do this on the day of my burial, would ye say to her then, To what purpose is this waste? Would ye think then of balancing the claims of common charity against the claims of unbounded gratitude? But since she has come beforehand with her offering, it is all the more precious in my sight. She alone has grasped the thought that my earthly ministry is drawing to a close. The poor ye have always with you; she alone has laid it to heart that me ye have not always." Thus Judas was silenced, and the disciples were overawed, and Mary was comforted, and the poor were not forgotten. What lessons are taught by this episode in the gospel history? In its outward form and substance the act of Mary can never be repeated. It stands alone. A few days came and went, and never again was Jesus to be indebted to the sons of men for a place where to lay his head; never again were his feet to be wearied with the hot and dusty paths of this world. Henceforth those who knew Christ in his humiliation were to know him so no more; and we need not say that to idolize his empty sepulcher, or to pray towards it as some do, or, saddest of all, to waste the blood of Christian nations in fighting for its possession, is at best to seek the living among the dead. "Hearts on high!" was the watchword of the ancient Church. "Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him." 1. But ask yourselves - Have you anything of Mary's spirit in your hearts - the spirit of love and gratitude to the Redeemer? Where that spirit exists it will tend to diffuse itself over the ordinary duties and charities of life, so that what you do you will "do heartily as to the Lord, and not unto man." But more than this. It is of the nature of love to be ingenious and original in its ways of expressing itself, and opportunities will sometimes occur of honoring Christ in ways which no one could prescribe to you - it may be in supporting his cause, it may be-in showing kindness to his people; and these you will think it a privilege to embrace simply for his sake. Nothing was further from Mary's thoughts than the fame which followed her action; any such calculation of consequences would have spoiled the sacrifice. And so it will ever be with the good works that spring from love to Christ. The impulse which inspires them comes from within, and not from the world without. Hence they will evermore be spontaneous and free, and yet all the more, in the apostle's language, they will be as "the odor of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable and well-pleasing to God." 2. When you witness any act of self-sacrifice in a great or good cause, beware of the spirit of jealousy and detraction. Let a work be ever so good, it is always possible to find fault with it on one ground or another - to call generosity extravagance, and zeal ostentation. Ah! there is a kind of criticism which sees some mote in the most honest eye, some vein of selfishness in the kindest heart, which is quick to detect unworthy motives, and "vaunteth itself" in its own acuteness in so doing. Verily this wisdom cometh not from above, and yet how strangely congenial it is to our fallen nature! It was in a moment of hallowed enthusiasm that Mary poured her spikenard on Jesus' feet; but even Jesus' disciples murmured till the Master stamped the offering with the broad seal of his approbation, and called it "a good work"! 3. We do no dishonor to the affecting words, "Me ye have not always," if we allow them to suggest to us the homely counsel, "Be kind to your friends while you have them." Are there not some who have nearer, dearer claims on you than all others? It may be an aged parent, a brother or a sister, or one closer to you still. Providence marks out that person for your special sympathy, for a tenderness to which the rest of the world has no claim. Do what you can for that friend. The tie may any day be broken, and only the memory of it remain. See that no negligence or impatience on your part may yet tinge that memory with self-reproach. "The poor ye have always with you," but no kindness to the outside world will atone for the neglect of personal claims. There are those who will not be with you always. Christ seems to say to you, "Remember them." - G.B. Parallel Verses KJV: Then Jesus six days before the passover came to Bethany, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom he raised from the dead. |
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