Anointing and Betrayal
In Bethany, a woman’s extravagant devotion anoints Jesus for burial and is honored forever, while Judas’ act of betrayal sets in motion the plot that will lead to the cross.
Mark 14 Now the Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread were only two days away, and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were scheming to arrest Jesus secretly and kill him. 2 “But not during the festival,” they said, “or the people may riot.”
The tension has reached its boiling point. The religious leaders, still smarting from Jesus’ temple tirade, are now actively plotting his death. The problem, though, is timing. Jerusalem is packed with pilgrims for the Passover festival, and the last thing the priests want is a riot. So they bide their time, scheming in the shadows. Meanwhile, Jesus is just a few miles away in Bethany, not stirring up crowds with sermons but causing his own miniature riot over a bottle of perfume.
3 While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.
Jesus is reclining at the table in the house of Simon the Leper—a man whose title speaks of what he once was, but who now plays host to the one who healed him. Into this setting walks a woman carrying an alabaster jar of perfume, the kind of family heirloom that doubled as an investment portfolio. Without hesitation, she breaks it open and pours it over Jesus’ head. To our modern ears it sounds more like a prank than a devotion, but in that world, anointing was an act of honor, a recognition of someone set apart. Mark doesn’t bother with the woman’s name—John tells us it was Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus—but Mark isn’t interested in names or family ties. What matters is the extravagant, sacrificial act of devotion.
4 Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? 5 It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly.
But not everyone sees it that way. Some at the table are indignant. They crunch the numbers—“That perfume was worth more than a year’s wages! It could’ve been sold and given to the poor!” Their rebuke is sharp, public, and, if we’re honest, not entirely unreasonable. Who wouldn’t want to see the poor cared for rather than a lavish gift wasted in one impulsive moment? But Jesus sees through their self-righteous arithmetic. It’s always easier to tell someone else how they should spend their money than to open your own wallet. The truth is, their critique masks their own unwillingness to give. Jesus, however, receives her gift in love and interprets it as something far deeper: preparation for his burial. The woman may not have understood all that she was doing, but her love was prophetic. She anointed the King not for a throne, but for a cross.
6 “Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 7 The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. 8 She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. 9 Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
Jesus defends her in front of everyone. “She has done a beautiful thing to me.” He doesn’t dismiss the poor—he reminds them the poor are always near, always available to love and serve—but he presses them on their motives. Are they actually serving the poor, or just using the poor to shame someone else’s devotion? The truth is, they will not always have Jesus, and her act is a sign that she, at least, was paying attention. Her gift is wasteful by the world’s standards, but in the economy of the Kingdom, it is priceless. So priceless, in fact, that Jesus promises her story will be told wherever the good news goes—her foolish extravagance remembered as faith.
10 Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. 11 They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over.
But if her actions are remembered for their beauty, Judas’ are remembered for their betrayal. Mark shifts the scene in stark contrast: while the woman gives away what is most precious to her, Judas sells what is most precious to God. He slips away to the religious leaders and offers to hand Jesus over. His motives remain shrouded—was it greed, a desire for silver? Was it disillusionment, a last-ditch attempt to push Jesus into revolution? Whatever it was, Judas’ actions reveal the one thing that matters in Mark’s gospel: he did not trust Jesus. And in the Kingdom, trust is the only currency that counts.
Reflection Question
What “beautiful thing” might Jesus be inviting you to do for him today?
