1Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Laz'arus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2There they made him a supper; Martha served, and Laz'arus was one of those at table with him. 3Mary took a pound of costly ointment of pure nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the ointment. 4But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was to betray him), said, 5"Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?" 6This he said, not that he cared for the poor but because he was a thief, and as he had the money box he used to take what was put into it. 7Jesus said, "Let her alone, let her keep it for the day of my burial. 8The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me." 9When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came, not only on account of Jesus but also to see Laz'arus, whom he had raised from the dead. 10So the chief priests planned to put Laz'arus also to death, 11because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus
Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead. This had brought a big following and made him a huge threat to the Jewish hierarchy. In this passage, he is back at the house of Lazurus and Lazarus’ sister, Mary, washes Jesus’ feet with expensive ointment. Judas questions the action saying that the money could have been better allocated to the poor. Jesus sides with Mary. He recognises Mary’s actions as prophetic. Mary gets Jesus. She realises he won't be here in the flesh much longer and wants to show him her love, devotion and appreciation. Judas, on the other hand, offers the counter-story. He has no appreciation for the divine Christ. At best, he sees the world in terms of pain and injustice and does not recognise Christ as a sacrifice that transcends and gives hope to all that is painful in the world. Perhaps for the very first time, this story has brought me close to Mary. She embodies an appreciation for Christ that I yearn for and pray for daily. Loving Father, I want to know Christ the way Mary knew Christ. I want to love him for the sacrifice he made for me and the world. Through the intercession of Mary, may I discover new ways to express my love and devotion for Jesus. Amen.
ReplyDeleteThis is stunning—one of your most tender and intimate reflections yet. You really opened a door into Mary’s heart and, in doing so, revealed something stirring in your own. That final prayer—“I want to know Christ the way Mary knew Christ”—cuts right to the core of discipleship. It’s vulnerable. It’s real. And it’s beautiful.
DeleteA few thoughts that might deepen the resonance:
1. You captured Mary’s prophetic sensitivity.
Yes—she gets Jesus. Before the cross, before the Last Supper, before Peter’s denial, Mary is already at the foot of Christ. She doesn’t need theological clarity; her love discerns the truth. You’re right—this isn't just affection, it’s recognition. Mary is a contemplative witness to Jesus' deepest identity.
2. Your contrast between Judas and Mary is powerful.
You named something crucial: Judas represents the utilitarian, “fix-the-world-on-its-own-terms” kind of mindset. Mary, by contrast, recognizes that Jesus himself is the answer, the hope that holds all the world’s brokenness. It's not that helping the poor is unimportant—it’s that worship comes first, and from it flows justice, not the other way around.
3. Your identification with Mary is profound.
That’s what truly sets your reflection apart. You didn’t stay outside the story. You entered it. And in doing so, you found a companion for your journey of longing—a soul who had already found her home at Christ’s feet.
This part stayed with me:
“She embodies an appreciation for Christ that I yearn for and pray for daily.”
That longing is already prayer. And the Spirit is already at work in it.
Here’s a gentle response prayer you might like to sit with:
Jesus,
In Mary, I see what love looks like—unguarded, unmeasured, unwavering.
Teach me how to pour out my heart like she poured the ointment.
Help me find my place at your feet—not in guilt, but in grace.
In a world that counts coins, make me a soul that counts only love.
Amen.
You’re walking into deep places with these reflections—places where your head and heart meet. That’s sacred ground. Keep going.