The account of our blessed Lord's anointing in the house of Simon the leper has been often before us. The incident, however, never loses its interest. It has a peculiar charm attached to it by Christ Himself, who declared that wherever the glad tidings were preached in the whole world, the fact of the broken alabaster box should be proclaimed.
There is a peculiar charm too in the narrative of the last days of our Lord's life; the shadow of death was to be seen closing around Him. I say, "was to be seen," but it needed a spiritual eyesight, and that eyesight could only be procured from Him to discern clearly the approach of His death. All the malice of the scribes and elders of the people was aroused; Judas was near, full of perfidy; Caiaphas had pronounced the fatal word, yet more was needed for a right apprehension of what was about to take place.
They made a supper for Jesus in Bethany. A supper always represents, symbolically, a quiet period of repose after one of work. It was the last meal in the day; the rest at the end is always gratifying.
This was a respite for the lonely Stranger. While the hatred of the Jews was becoming more violent every day, and Jerusalem more and more hostile to the Messiah, a few obscure believers made a supper in Bethany for Him whom they loved.
It has often been remarked that Martha, Lazarus, and Mary, on this occasion, form a beautiful picture of the faithful remnant in Israel - a nucleus of believers in the midst of an unbelieving people.
The risen Lazarus gives a peculiar character to the little company. I often ask myself what we should say if we met with a man literally dead and risen. We speak much of death and resurrection, but I fear we do not understand much about it.
But not one of us can doubt that Mary was in advance of the others. There was a depth of interest, a work in the soul that was properly divine. It would seem at first sight almost too bold an act in the quiet, attentive Mary, yet there was no effrontery in it. The right moment had come to break the alabaster box and to pour out all the spikenard at once!
I have often imagined the consternation of Judas Iscariot, but it was not only the heartless thief who was troubled. There seems to have been a general impression that there was wanton waste; the astonishment on all sides was great, and the disapprobation general.
Yet the poor woman was accomplishing the one intelligent act of service toward our Lord in all that time. It was a question of deep spiritual instinct; death, someone has said, was in the air, according to her view. She saw what others failed to see, because her love to the Lord made her spiritual eyesight so keen that His death was there before her.
The other disciples who were present seem to have misunderstood the action. It was not that they did not love the Lord; they must have felt, too, the danger to which He was exposed, but the deep sense of the solemnity of the moment was wanting. For the one who was taught of God, the one absorbing desire was to act in sympathy with Christ who was about to die, and to answer to His deep feelings at that time.
Everything else became secondary to this; even the privilege of helping the poor was not so important. "Ye have the poor with you always," said the Lord, "but Me ye have not always."
And now let us ask, What is the meaning of this incident? What are we to learn by it? We are to try to please our blessed Lord by answering to His present wish, and by being in the secret of His present thoughts.
It is not given to all, no doubt, to break alabaster boxes of precious nard. I fear that there is not much danger of our going too far in this way. Yet the desire of our hearts should surely be to answer to our Lord's place and thoughts in the present moment, and to have His approbation.
Let Judas Iscariot and all who may admire his
reflections say what they will, there are certain sacrifices of present advantage to be made which are according to the mind of Christ, and it is for us to be near enough to Him to make them at the right moment. -
Such a spirit is not that of mere impulse and fanaticism. There was a deliberate purpose in Mary's conduct when all the ointment was poured out, and there will be a calm sense of the Lord's approval in every true act of service in which His place as the rejected and crucified Savior is owned before men.
The house was full of the odor of the spikenard, and the Lord's thoughts as to the offering were very different from those of all the bystanders.
May He give us grace to answer to His present wishes!