(Now that the hornet’s nest has officially been disrupted, we come to a new scene.  Mary, full of heartfelt love for her King, pours a bottle of expensive perfume on the feet of Jesus and washes Jesus’ feet with her hair.  Meanwhile, Judas discovers the bottle of perfume to be made of pure nard.  He tries to stop Mary, protesting the perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor.  Two rather extreme perspectives.  One whom will do anything to show her love, and the other whom tries to rationalize based on the love of money.)

Hello.  I am Mary.  No, not the mother of Jesus.  Not Mary Magdalene.  Mary as in … um … well, Martha is my sister, and my brother is Lazarus.  Not to boast, but I was the one Jesus was proud of for listening to Him while my sister was slaving in the kitchen. 

I just couldn’t help myself.  I mean, work is important, but listening to the teachings of Jesus?  That is irreplaceable!  You don’t get those moments every day.  I think my sister understands now. 

Lazarus certainly does!  That sickness destroyed him.  One minute he was perfectly fine.  The next?  Nobody knew what to do!  I did the only thing I could do.  I called on Jesus to heal him.  Except Jesus couldn’t make it for a few days, and the unthinkable happened.  My brother died. 

I couldn’t understand why Jesus allowed this to happen.  I wasn’t even able to bring myself to greet Him when He finally arrived.  When Jesus called me to Him, I was racked with tears.  I asked Him over and over … WHY?  Why did you let this awful thing happen?

Something happened to His eyes right then.  It was as if my pain became His pain.  And He wept.  This amazing teacher, the Son of Man, my Messiah, the Son of God, He became so … so human!  Jesus was not immune to the pain of losing a loved one. 

It was at that point that the miracle happened.  People followed Jesus to the grave, flocking around Him, anxious to see what He was going to do.  After saying a quick prayer, the stone was shoved aside.  Jesus raised His hand to the sky and bellowed, “Lazarus, come out!”   

My brother stumbled forward looking like a mummy.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!  I wrapped my arms around him, weeping all the more.  They were tears of shock.  Tears of elation.  Tears of joy.  Jesus had performed one of His greatest miracles right before my very eyes!

My love for Jesus could not have been stronger.  He was deserving of my highest praise!  There was nothing I could do to show how much I loved Him.  But I tried.  I took all the money I had, and I went to the perfume vendor. 

Seeing my tattered appearance, he tried showing me the cheap bottles.  But none of them were good enough!  I told the man to bring out his very best.  Even THAT was not good enough for Jesus, but I bought it.  With everything I had.  So worth it.

When I showed up, I was weeping again.  There He was.  Surrounded by His disciples.  Teaching.  Always teaching.  The teaching I struggled with the most was when He spoke of His death.  And what do you do to dead bodies?  You anoint them.  With perfume.

I fell to my knees, racked with tears.  Opening the bottle, there was an audible gasp amongst everyone.  Especially after the powerful smell overwhelmed the room.  The perfume splashed on Jesus’ calloused feet, and I began to wash His feet.  Back and forth, back and forth, with my unworthy hair. 

The potent stench was nauseating to me.  My eyes burned, not so much from the perfume but even more from the pain.  My tears spilled out, mixing with the fragrance.  The effort to show Him my praise was still not worthy of Him.  Would anything be worthy?

My act of love was not taken well by everyone.  Judas spoke out against me.  He was overcome by the costly price of the bottle, saying it should have been sold and the money given to the poor.  I don’t think he understands.  Being the treasurer, he knows the power of money.  I think he just got mixed up.

Jesus stood up for me.  He told the room that what I was doing was a beautiful act of love, preparing Him for His burial.  Burial?  How?  When?  It was still so confusing to me.  Impossible for me to wrap my head around. 

Much like my love for Him.  My love for Jesus is impossible to describe.  Even ten of those bottles would not be worthy of Him.  You see, Jesus Christ is absolutely priceless.  His love is something that cannot be bought.  All I can do is praise Him, savoring every last minute I have with Him.

After all, His death is looming.  Nobody knows when it will come, but after my brother was raised from the dead … yeah.  The Pharisees were not too happy about that.  They are plotting.  Scheming.  Something is happening behind the scenes, and I don’t like the smell of it.

All I can do is bask in His presence.  And soak in the smell of costly perfume.  Even if Judas doesn’t understand, I most certainly do.   

Bible study: Read John 12:1-11 and journal about or discuss the following questions.

1. How much money did Mary spend on the perfume?  What would this be compared to today?
2. What amount of money would you be willing to pay from your own wallet to anoint Jesus?
3. Why do you think Judas misses the point here?  Where is his heart?
4. What does basking in the presence of Jesus mean to Mary?  What does it mean to you?
5. If you were to explain the moral of the story, what would you say?

Video application: Watch the scene where Mary anoints Jesus in The Chosen below.

Song application: “Money Can’t Buy” by Cochren and Co

I set my sights on shiny things
That crumble in the rust, that fade into the dust
I bought the lie that someday I would finally have enough
But it never is enough, so

Wake me up
From this slumber that I’m in
Take me up
To a brand-new horizon

Oh Lord, give me eyes to see
That what I need don’t cost a thing
You fill my life
With somethin’ money can’t buy
I’m done chasin’ after gold
Rip the price tag off my soul
You fill my life
With somethin’ money can’t buy

Prayer: Lord, every minute with you is more than precious.  Every prayer, every time I allow You in my heart, is worth more than the most precious diamonds.  May I not take those moments for granted.