4   Mary’s Unique Faith

Scripture: John 12:1-8 

The setting

It is now Friday morning of the week prior to Passion Week. On Thursday Jesus had arrived in Jericho, where He sought out Bartimaeus the beggar and Zacchaeus the publican. And, because of the disciples’ misunderstanding of what lay ahead, Jesus had told the parable of the pounds.

“Could they but have penetrated the meaning of that parable,” wrote Rev. Ophoff, “they would have seen that, so far from any such kingdom as they were dreaming of being about to be set up for them in Jerusalem, He was going through the dark avenue of death to another, to a far country, to receive the kingdom there, and after a long interval return; and that, so far from their being about to share the honors and rewards of a newly erected empire, they were to be left without a head, each man to occupy and to labor till He came again.” But they did not penetrate into the meaning of the parable.

Jesus arrives in Bethany

Jesus let it rest at that, however, and, leaving Jericho behind, He walked ahead of His company of followers, “ascending up to Jerusalem” (Luke 19:28). When they neared Bethany, Jesus and His disciples probably turned aside into the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus (see John 12:1), while the rest of the company continued on, in order to seek lodging in Jerusalem.

That Jesus’ company would arrive “six days before the passover” (John 12:1) was not at all unusual. In fact, the roads leading into Jerusalem at this time were probably dotted with little bands of pilgrims, for, according to 11:55, “many went out of the country up to Jerusalem before the passover, to purify themselves.” Any legal uncleanness would disqualify them from celebrating the feast, so those who were in need of Levitical purification (and, writes Edersheim, “there would be few families that did not require it”) would come to Jerusalem at least a week early in order to have sufficient time to attend to the required rites.

Excitement over Jesus’ arrival

Throngs of people began to fill Jerusalem till, it has been estimated, no fewer than two million Jews were on hand for the celebration of the Passover. And uppermost in the minds of a great number of these people was Jesus of Nazareth. “What think ye,” they asked each other, “that he will not come to the feast?” (11:56).

Of the hostility of their leaders toward Jesus they must have been well aware, since the chief priests and Pharisees had given a commandment concerning Him (11:57). But the popular belief that Jesus might yet be the Messiah had not been set to rest. In fact, by their willingness, two days hence, to make of Jesus’ arrival a “triumphal entry,” they showed that, had Christ raised the banner of a new kingdom, they would have been quick to rally around it—in spite of what their rulers might think of Him.

But would He come?—that was the question. They waited, as it were, with bated breath, as did also, no doubt, the chief priests and Pharisees, who must have sensed something of the excitement of the people.

And then word arrived (probably from the band that had just come from Jericho) that Jesus was indeed coming, that He was already in Bethany. Bethany, they knew, was the home of Lazarus, whose raising was, among the people of Jerusalem, the most celebrated of Jesus’ miracles. Eager to see not only Jesus but also the man who had been four days in the grave, crowds of people traveled the short distance to Bethany on Saturday (12:9).

Saturday was the Jewish Sabbath, but, writes Lenski, “the two miles to Bethany were no hindrance as regards a Sabbath day’s journey, for hosts of pilgrims always had to camp outside of the city at the time of the great festivals.”

Most of those who went to Bethany were, very likely, pilgrims who had come to Jerusalem for the Passover, for the majority of the citizens of Jerusalem were hostile toward Jesus. And many of these pilgrims went away believing (12:11). They must have been convinced that anyone who could perform such miracles must indeed be the Christ.

Consternation of the leaders

The chief priests were beside themselves with anger and frustration. What they had hoped, apparently, was that Jesus would come in secret, and that, through an informer, they could learn His whereabouts and kill Him in secret. But Jesus comes openly, and by the time they learn of His presence, hundreds of His supporters were already on their way to see Him. What they had most feared, namely, that the whole nation would follow after Him (11:48), is happening before their very eyes. In their blind rage they “consulted that they might put Lazarus also to death” (12:10), for it was because of Lazarus that many more were believing on Jesus. “The criminality of the Sadducean rulers,” writes Lenski, “was outrageous.”

A feast for Jesus in Bethany

Saturday was spent by Jesus in the home of Lazarus in Bethany. It was probably on the evening of this day, that the supper of John 12 took place. Matthew and Mark place the supper differently; but since John speaks of the triumphal entry as being “the next day” (12:12), many Bible scholars conclude that the feast in Bethany was indeed on Saturday—perhaps, even, after 6:00, when the Jewish Sabbath was ended.

We read that “they made him a supper” (12:2), the idea of which seems to be that His friends in Bethany prepared a feast specially in His honor. Mark adds that the feast was held “in the house of Simon the leper” (14:3). Who this Simon was we do not know. That he was a leper who had been healed by Jesus seems likely; but we can only guess as to how it happened that the supper was held in his house. From verse 2 we learn that Lazarus was among the guests, and that Martha was prominent in serving. It is probable that Mary was there to serve, too, rather than to eat, since prevailing custom was that women did not dine at the table in public with men.

Mary anoints Jesus with precious ointment

But, as it turned out, Mary was to be remembered for something other than serving at this feast. She had with her an “alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious” (Mark 14:3). That it was indeed very precious was attested to by Judas Iscariot. With what seems to have been a practiced eye for that which involved money, he estimated that it could have been sold for 300 pence (John 12:5). In our money, that is about $50—which does not seem like much, until we remember that 300 pence was the average yearly income of a laborer in those days. The spikenard, or pure nard, was a perfume, probably come from India. The nard was a plant from which was derived the essence for the perfume. The “alabaster box” was a flask made of alabaster, which was a semi-transparent stone.

According to Lenski the container was most likely “so constructed and sealed that the neck of the vial had to be broken in order to get at the contents.” We read that Mary “brake the box” (Mark 14:3) and proceeded to empty its contents on Jesus. Matthew and Mark note that she poured it on His head, and John informs us that she even poured some on His feet and wiped off the excess with her hair, the latter as an expression of the humbling of herself before her Lord.

It ought to be mentioned, perhaps, that the “ointment” was not an oily substance, as the name might suggest. Rather, like our expensive perfumes, it evaporated quickly, and therefore, because of the amount Mary used, the house was soon filled with the delightful odor (John 12:3).

Such was the expression of Mary’s love for the Master, and at so much cost to her.

Objection of Judas Iscariot

It was that cost that bothered Judas. As Rev. Ophoff wrote, “love so ardent, consecration so entire, sacrifice so costly, as that of Mary, he could not appreciate.” And his covetousness was such that he could not let Mary’s supposed extravagance (and, of course, Jesus’ permitting of it) go without comment. It seems that he did not object openly, but rather began to whisper to his fellow disciples. “Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence,” he asked, “and given to the poor?” (12:5).

Ah, yes, “given to the poor.” That made his objection sound ever so praiseworthy. Many a poor family could have been helped, were that amount of money to have been used for charity, rather than wasted on that which was, at best, a fleeting pleasure.

As John points out in verse 6, however, he had no real concern for the poor. Rather he saw advantage for himself, for he “had the bag,” and was responsible for the dispensing of the funds used for the needs of Jesus and His disciples and for charity. Three hundred pence was a considerable amount, and, being “a thief” (12:6), he would certainly be able to divert a good share of that to his own personal use.

Jesus rebukes His disciples

The other disciples, however, did not suspect for a moment that Judas, one of their own, could not be trusted with the bag. And for that reason they were quick to be swayed by his remarks concerning Mary’s act of love. Writes Edersheim: “Such was his pretense among the disciples, and such their sad weakness, that they, or at least some, expressed indignation among themselves. . . .”

How many of them echoed the complaint of Judas we do not know. Matthew states that “the disciples” had indignation, and Mark, that some of them did. In contrast to Judas, however, it is likely that they did it, as Calvin suggests, “thoughtlessly and not from any ill will.”

Whatever the case, it seems that Mary became aware of the criticism of the disciples. And perhaps she even began to fear that she might have done something of which Christ Himself did not approve. But “when Jesus understood it (that is, when He perceived what they were murmuring about among themselves), he said unto them, Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me” (Matt. 26:10).

What made it a good work? It was that because it was motivated by love—a love that did not count the cost; a love that brought what was probably the most costly thing she owned, her most treasured possession, and bestowed it on her Lord, without thinking for one moment that it could ever be wasted on Him. Her act, therefore, far from being worthy of rebuke, was most commendable.

Not, of course, that Jesus would ever minimize the necessity of caring for the poor. What He is saying is that the needs of the poor are not such that, until each and every one is met, there is no place for an act of love and devotion like Mary’s. One can very properly show a genuine concern for the care of the needy and at the same time be ready to contribute to something that has a “purely devout and religious purpose” (Rev. Ophoff).

Besides, Jesus said, “the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always” (12:8). Just a few more days and it would be forever impossible to do to Jesus what Mary did. Jesus knew that on that very day (Saturday) of the following week, His body would be in the grave.

Mary’s remarkable faith

And Mary, He said to His disciples, did what she did with a view to that. “For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial” (Matt. 26:12).

For my burial! It seems incredible that, while Jesus’ disciples were yet having dreams of a kingdom of earthly power and splendor, Mary could be anticipating the imminent death of her Lord. And yet, that is what Jesus said!

There is, admittedly, considerable difference of opinion as to exactly what Mary believed. Calvin writes that she must have been “moved by the directing of the Spirit to do something she had not thought of before.” Jamieson contends that Jesus “lovingly regards” the anointing as having been done for His burial. Rev. Ophoff, however, while holding that the account “does not require that we should assign to her any such preeminence of faith,” is willing to credit her with at least some “vague presentiment that she was seizing upon a last opportunity, that the days of such intercourse with Jesus were drawing to an end.”

With His disciples, Jesus had before been very clear as to what awaited Him in Jerusalem. And also to the people generally He had made such statements as, “I lay down my life for the sheep” (John 10:15). When Jesus instructed Mary as she sat at His feet in her house (Luke 10:39), would He not have told her something of the nature of His work as the Messiah? “To others,” writes Rev. Ophoff, “the words might appear to be without meaning, or only to be allegorically interpreted, but the quick instinct of her deeper love had refused to regard them so.” And knowing what she did about the current threat from the chief priests and Pharisees, she must have felt that a crisis was fast approaching. Then, as Lenski says, “her mind leaped to the conclusion that, when the tragedy now broke, it would be utterly impossible to anoint the dead body of Jesus.” So she acted now. In Jesus’ defending of that act, He was attributing to her a better understanding of and simpler faith in His teaching than that possessed by any of the twelve.

This act, as it was the expression of so pure a love and firm a faith in the heart of one of His dear sheep, must have been a source of encouragement to Jesus in the week of terrible trial that lay just ahead. To His disciples He said, “Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel is preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her” (Mark 14:9).

Chrysostom, an early church father, is quoted by Rev. Ophoff as having written this: “While the victories of many kings and generals are lost in silence, and many who have founded states and reduced nations to subjection, are not known by reputation or by name, the pouring of ointment by this woman is celebrated throughout the world. Time hath passed away, but the memory of the deed she did hath not waned . . . .”
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