The Gift of Mary of Bethany

S. Mark xiv. 1–11

This record of the anointing of our Lord in connection with His coming Passion x is preserved by three of the Evangelists. S. Luke, who passes it over, has however noticed another which took place at a much earlier stage in His Galilean ministry. On both occasions it was in the house of a man named Simon, who is designated in one narrative “the Pharisee,” in the other “the leper.” In the former the woman who anointed Him is unnamed, but described as “a sinner.” In the latter it was Mary of Bethany. It is no doubt possible that the persons, though differently described, are to be identified. If so, the case affords an interesting illustration of unremitting gratitude for mercy and pardon. A woman whose sins had made her an outcast from society found a Friend in Jesus, and became henceforth a devoted follower. Unable to tear herself from His company, she sat at His feet till her sister complained; and she repeated with most lavish prodigality the anointing which was associated with her forgiveness.

If S. Augustine was right in his conjecture (for he is responsible for this view) we have here a striking example of the principle, “to whom much is forgiven the same loveth much.” But there are grave reasons that would make us hesitate, even upon such weighty authority, where it stands almost alone, to accept the supposition. Suffice it to mention that there is not the slightest trace of evidence discoverable, historical or traditional, direct or indirect, that Mary of Bethany had ever lived a life of sin and shame.

It is with hardly less injustice supposed that “the sinner,” of whom S. Luke speaks, was Mary Magdalene. The theory rests upon no more substantial basis than the juxtaposition in the third Gospel of the two events of the anointing by an unknown woman, and the casting out of seven devils from Mary of Magdala. And yet the belief in the identity of persons, fostered so largely by Christian art, has taken such a firm and lasting hold upon the popular mind, that “a penitent” and “a Magdalene” are regarded as synonymous terms.

The only safe course is to leave the earlier anointing vague as the Evangelist left it. Had it been recorded by S. John, the uncertainty would doubtless have been removed, on the same principle which led him to disclose the name of the chief actor in the later event, though it had been passed over in silence by S. Matthew and S. Mark. When they wrote probably Mary was alive, and her name was suppressed out of consideration for her feelings; but when S. John composed his Gospel, many years later, all reason for the suppression had been removed by her death; and as she could not suffer any inconvenience from the notoriety, the whole details were made known. It was just what happened with regard to the resurrection of her brother Lazarus. It has often created some surprise that this crowning miracle of our Lord’s works should have only been recorded by one Evangelist; but the rest were doubtless influenced by the same motives which guided them in concealing Mary’s name. If the tradition be true that Lazarus lived in his restored life for thirty years, he must have been alive when the first three Gospels were published, and rather than make him an object of curiosity, probably even of persecution from the Jews, the writers passed over the miracle; but when S. John wrote Lazarus had died, and so the veil of reserve was removed.

If we may attempt to picture the supper which was prepared for Jesus at Bethany, we should place Him at the table between Simon and Lazarus, and, if the tradition be trustworthy which makes them father and son, and supposes the former to have been healed of his leprosy by our Lord, it is impossible to imagine a more touching scene. Both were trophies of His power and love; both had been raised to life by His hand, for while Lazarus had been actually called forth from the tomb, Simon had been raised from a condition of living death. And as they sat at meat, Mary came behind with an alabaster 2 vase of the costliest unguent, and crushing the seal upon the mouth, poured the whole contents over His head. The fragrance was such that “the house was filled with the odour of the ointment,” and the expenditure so prodigal that it excited the indignant surprise of some of the guests. Judas made no scruple of expressing what others felt; he was unable to conceal his disappointment that an opportunity had been lost of adding to his ill-gotten store; perhaps he thought too that a manifestation of jealousy for the interests of the poor would help to divert suspicion from himself. If the precious ointment had been sold, it would have realised as much as three hundred pence; 1 perhaps in his eagerness to rebuke the “waste” he calculated it at more than its value, but even at his valuation Jesus showed that it was no reckless extravagance, but a noble deed. It may have been that the dark background of the traitor’s design made Mary’s act of sacrifice and love the brighter in His eyes, for it drew forth the promise of almost unparalleled honour. To her alone of His followers did He give an assurance, that what she had done should never be effaced from men’s memories in any age or time.

His words reveal a tone of sadness even in the midst of a satisfaction that seems to light up His soul. They express the never absent feeling which cast its shadow over His life, though the bystanders probably failed to notice it.

Remembering perhaps the ancient prophecy that “the poor shall never cease out of the land,” He reminded them that opportunities of relieving them would recur every day of their lives, but it would not be so with Himself. “Me ye have not always,” He said. It was a gentle way of alluding to the end, so rapidly approaching; for His mind must have been full of the thought that before a few more suns had set they would know Him no more.

Then again every one imagined that the precious unguents poured with such lavish profusion over His head were intended to enhance His delight at the festive board; but to Him it was only an anticipation of His approaching burial. Whether He had revealed to Mary’s sympathetic heart the full knowledge that His disciples were unable to bear, or whether He only meant that her act might be interpreted as a preparation for His death, we cannot tell; enough to know that the deed was one which went straight to the heart of Jesus, and gained for her who did it an undying name.

If in the spirit of those who murmured against her, we are ever tempted to object that the reward seems disproportionate to the act, or that it would have been better deserved for a service of far-reaching utility and benefit, we shall do well to pause and ask ourselves whether the world is really so poor that it can afford to make no offerings of pure gratitude. “Is there to be no poetry, no extravagance of sacrificing love, no grand expression of great hearts, in splendid festivals and gifts and institutions simply to the honour of God, and the glory of Jesus — to the celebration of the sublimer moments of life? Is it so poor that the common necessity of every day — that the every day of common necessity — can and must consume all our earthly possessions?” However man may rate our actions, God does not weigh them in the balance of utility alone, but far oftener by the standard of motive.

It is no doubt well at times to consider how much good we can do with what we possess, but it is better, infinitely better, to be filled with Mary’s spirit of uncalculating devotion, to feel within us an irrepressible passion which wells up in overflowing love, entirely careless where else its streams may reach, provided only that they bring joy and refreshment to Him to Whom we owe all that we have and all that we are.

Note: S. John says that it was “six days before the Passover,” which would fix it on the Sabbath before His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. If his date be correct, the Synoptists have introduced it later, possibly in order to bring it into immediate connection with the betrayal by Judas, implying that his resolution to sell our Lord for money arose out of his disappointment at missing the three hundred pence. 296 The Gift of

Note: The date of this Gospel has of course been very variously given. If we accept Dr. Westcott’s view, and probably we can find no one more trustworthy, we should place it, on grounds of internal evidence and historical tradition, at the close of the first century.

Note: It is described as “a calcareous spar resembling marble, but softer and more easily worked.” s The meaning of tti<ttikt]s is doubtful. If from irivw, probably” liquid; “if from iriaTis, genuine, unadulterated. ‘’ Spikenard” probably originated from the untranslated form in Latin, nardzis pistica, which was changed into spicala nardus. 298 The Gift of

Note: About £g: 15 s.