And when he was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the leper, as he lay at table, there came a woman having an alabaster flask of ointment of pure nard, very costly; and having broken the alabaster flask, she poured it out upon his head.
Jesus sits at supper in Bethany, in the home of a man known as Simon the leper. While others plot against Him, a woman walks in with a flask of costly perfume, breaks it, and empties it over His head.
Mark leaves the woman unnamed. One reference work names her, and rules out a different anointing:
Compare Matthew 26:6 and Mark 14:3 with John 12:1-3. It seems clear that Martha and Mary lived in Simon's house. Perhaps they were related to him in some way. And Mary was the woman referred to. There is no basis for connecting this anointing of the Lord with the one recorded in Luke 7:36-50, which was done by 'a sinner.'
The nard in the verse was not a local product:
nard, νάρδος. A plant that grows in India: so called, it is said, because of the 'spikes' that grow out of its roots. Its root and leaves are imported. A costly ointment was made from it, giving off a sweet perfume. Song of Solomon 1:12; Song 4:13-14; Mark 14:3; John 12:3.
Mark records that she broke the container. That detail carries weight:
She asked no one's advice. She used her ointment, and broke the alabaster flask, or jar, that held it (Mark 14:3). No one else would ever be anointed out of that flask. It was broken. She intended that ointment for Him, and for Him alone. As far as we read, she said nothing as she anointed Him. Her act, however, spoke louder than words. Of the best that she had, He was worthy, and no one else would ever share in it.
Mark says the ointment went on His head. John speaks of His feet. One writer shows how both fit:
This supper took place in the house of Simon the leper, who had likely been healed by the Lord Jesus. Lazarus and Martha were there as well as Mary. She brought the expensive flask of ointment, broke it, and poured the ointment on His head. John speaks of her anointing His feet with it. No doubt she did both, but Mark writes of what suits His servant character, and John shows the side of her worshipping at the feet of the Son of God. This was not giving to the Lord's work, but to the Lord Himself.
Her act had a history behind it:
In this way Mary expresses her appreciation of Christ, her affection for Christ, and her spiritual insight. At that moment her understanding seems to have gone beyond that of the other disciples. Won by grace and drawn by love, she had, in earlier days, sat at His feet to hear His word. As someone has said, "The grace and love of Jesus had produced love for Him, and His word had produced spiritual intelligence."
Her act drew out what was in the hearts around Him:
Her act was the witness of love's appreciation of Christ, at the very moment when the plotting of men expressed their hatred of Christ. Mary's act of homage brings to light the greed of some who were present. We know from the Gospel of John that Judas led those who were indignant with Mary. What was gain to Christ was loss to Judas. Men can appreciate kind acts done for men. But they can see little, if any, value in an act of homage that has only Christ as its object. … Let us not forget that those who complain about Mary's devotion are in reality making light of Christ. If Mary's act is mere waste, then Christ is not worthy of the homage of His people.
One writer presses the question of her motive:
What was this woman's object as she walked to Simon's house? Was it to win the praise of men for her act? Was it to gain a name for great devotion to Christ among a small circle of the Savior's friends? No, it was none of these things. How do we know? Because the Most High God was present — the Creator of all things, who knows the deepest secrets of all hearts and the true motive of every action. He weighed her action in the scales of the sanctuary and put on it the seal of His approval. … His holy and all-searching eye went right down into the very depths of this woman's soul. He knew, not only what she had done, but how and why she had done it, and He declared, "She has done a good work on Me."
- Hearing first. Her giving grew out of earlier days at His feet, hearing His word. Love and understanding came first. The flask came after.
- Costliest kept. The perfume was imported nard, costly by nature. She saved her best for Him alone.
- Broken, not measured. She shattered the jar so it could never serve another. She held nothing back.
- Head and feet. Mark records the head, John the feet. Both are true, and each Gospel shows a different side of Christ.
- Weighed and approved. Others called it waste. The One who reads motives called it a good work. The test of any service is whether Christ Himself is the object.
And there were some indignant in themselves, and saying, Why has this waste been made of the ointment?
At the supper in Bethany, Mary has just poured costly ointment over Jesus, and the room answers with anger. The complaint comes from people at the table, not from enemies — so why does love for Christ so often look like waste to those who watch it?
The anger did not start on its own. One commentator points to Judas, and to what Mary's gift cost him.
It was a scene of love, but such a scene quickly draws out the hatred of those who have no love. Mary's worshipping love for the person of the Lord, and her sense of His danger, led her on. The sweet smell of the ointment she poured out filled the house at Bethany. But Judas stirred up the natural mind of the other disciples; he had no fellowship with her; Jesus was not precious in his eyes. So he found fault where Jesus was the adored object of Mary. The ointment was so much money taken away from his own dishonest gains. He only pleaded the cause of the poor, and stirred up the other disciples about it. But love will lavish everything, and yet it never wastes anything. Self wastes, foolishness wastes, but love never does.
The word behind "waste" does not mean plain loss. It means putting something to a bad use, and that is the charge against Mary.
"To what purpose is this waste [of the ointment]?" (Matt. 26:8). "Why was the ointment wasted like that?" It is a bad use of it here in Mark 14:4.
The price of the ointment made the complaint sound reasonable.
Some were indignant at what they called "waste." How sad that even disciples would deny the Lord the honour that is rightly His. Judas plainly led the way in this (John 12:4-5), but others were willing to follow his materialistic reasoning. The ointment was worth about a year's wages for a working man. Giving it to the poor instead sounds reasonable. But man's wisdom is ignorance compared with God's thoughts.
Judas dressed his objection up as concern for the poor. Commentators say that concern was not real, and that love for the poor cannot be split from love for Christ.
Heartless man! hiding his covetousness under the cloak of caring for the poor. No one can have a true heart for the poor who does not love Christ. Judas — professing believer, and apostle, and all that he was — loved money: sadly, no uncommon love. He had no heart for Christ, although he may have preached and cast out demons in His blessed name.
The complaint raises a question of rank.
Care for the poor is all right and good, and the Lord owns it. But love to Him is above all, at a moment when the world's ruin and eternity hang on whether His self-sacrificing love is rejected or owned.
The same judgment lives on, and the world still hands out its applause by the same rule.
Dear friends, how humbling this false judgment of the disciples ought to be to us! They would not have called it waste if the gift had gone to the poor. They did call it waste when it came from wholehearted devotion to Christ. This was human nature! And so it still is. Whom does the world applaud? It applauds those who spend their time on kind and charitable schemes. And it counts a person a fool for giving up anything for Christ. What the world calls "waste," because it is done to Christ, is precious to God.
A verdict on the gift is also a verdict on the One who received it.
People can appreciate kind acts done for people, but can see little, if any, value in an act of homage that has only Christ as its object. Are we not, as Christians, in the same danger? We may be rightly busy preaching to sinners and caring for believers, and yet show little appreciation for an act of worship that makes everything of Christ. Let us not forget that those who complain about Mary's devotion are in reality slighting Christ. If Mary's act is mere waste, then Christ is not worthy of the homage of His people.
- Source. The anger began with Judas and spread to the others. He pleaded for the poor, but he was grieving over money he had lost.
- Word. "Waste" here means a bad use of something. The charge was that the ointment had come to nothing.
- Cover. Concern for the poor was only a cloak. No one has a real heart for the poor who has no heart for Christ.
- Pattern. Money spent on people never gets called waste. Only what is spent on Christ earns that name, then and now.
- Verdict. The complaint measures Christ, not Mary — call her act waste, and you have said He is not worth it.
for this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor. And they spoke very angrily at her.
A woman has poured costly perfume over the Lord's head, and at once someone in the room works out what it was worth. The objection sounds generous — the poor could have had the money. So what was wrong with it?
The sum was not small change. What was that coin worth in daily life, and where else do such figures appear?
The "penny" was the Roman denarius, and the pay of a soldier was a denarius a day. It was also the generous wage a generous master paid the workers in his vineyard, in the parable of Matthew 20. The New Testament names other sums in the same coin: 100 denarii in the parable of the unforgiving servant (Matthew 18:28), 200 in Philip's answer (John 6:7), 300 in the valuation of the ointment used on the Lord (Mark 14:5; John 12:5), and 500 in the parable of the two debtors (Luke 7:41).
That is why the objection did not sound absurd to the others in the room:
Its value was clearly about a year's wages for a working man. Giving that money to the poor sounds like a reasonable idea. But man's wisdom is ignorance compared to God's thoughts.
One writer names who set the complaining going, and what he thought he had lost by it:
Judas roused the worldly mind of the other disciples. He had no fellowship with her. Jesus was not precious in his eyes. So he was finding fault where Jesus was the adored object of Mary. It was so much taken from his own dishonest gains. He only pleaded the cause of the poor, and stirred up the other disciples about it... But love, while it would lavish all, never wastes anything; self does, idle folly does, but love never.
The complaint wore the clothes of compassion. One writer strips off the disguise and finds a test inside it:
Heartless man! hiding his covetousness under the cloak of caring for the poor. No one can have a true heart for the poor who does not love Christ. Judas — professor, and apostle, and all, as he was — loved money: sadly, no uncommon love.
The same man later put a price on the Lord Himself:
Posing as the friend of the poor, but in reality ruled by greed, he valued the ointment at three hundred denarii. He grudged that sum being spent on the Lord. Yet later he was willing to take thirty shekels of silver to betray Him.
Behind the objection lies an assumption: money given to the needy is useful, money spent on Jesus is thrown away. One writer answers that directly:
To be sure, spending anything on Jesus is waste in the eyes of the world. The world does not call it waste to spend on what is useful for man... Care for the poor is all right and good; the Lord owns it. But love to Him is above all else. The world's ruin and eternity depend on the showing of His self-sacrificing love, whether men reject it or own it.
The verse ends by saying they scolded her. That same word describes the Lord at the grave of His friend Lazarus:
The word translated "deeply moved" appears elsewhere for a "strict" or stern "charge," as in Matthew 9:30 and Mark 1:43. It also covers angry speech, as in Mark 14:5.
The anger did not stay with the man who felt it first. It travelled:
We gather from this how one corrupt person can defile even those who have true hearts for Christ. Judas's fine-sounding words about the poor caught the disciples at once. They let his hint lead them into complaining. Their complaints reflected on Christ as much as they slighted the devotion of Mary.
How they valued the gift showed how they valued the One it honoured:
Men can appreciate kind acts done for people. But they see little value, if any, in an act of homage that has only Christ as its object. Are we not, as Christians, in the same danger? We may be rightly busy preaching to sinners and caring for God's people, and still see little worth in an act of worship that makes everything of Christ. Let us not forget that those who murmur at the devotedness of Mary really put a slight upon Christ. If Mary's act is mere waste, then Christ is not worthy of the homage of His people.
- The price. A denarius was a day's pay, so three hundred came close to a year's wages. The objection was about real money.
- The pretext. He named the poor, but greed moved him. A man with no heart for Christ has no true heart for the poor either.
- The contagion. One corrupt voice pulled real disciples into murmuring. Their complaint slighted Christ as much as it slighted her.
- The verdict reversed. What self and folly waste, love never does; spending on Jesus looks like loss only to eyes that never valued Him.
- The mirror. Call her act waste, and you have said Christ is not worth it — which is why the charge tests the accuser, not the giver.
But Jesus said, Let her alone; why do ye trouble her? she has wrought a good work as to me;
An argument breaks out at supper in the village of Bethany. A woman has poured very costly ointment on Jesus; those watching call it waste, and before she can defend herself the Lord gives His own verdict on what she has done.
Mary makes no reply to the criticism. She does not need to.
Mary does not have to defend herself: the Lord did that. "Let her alone," He says; "she has done a good work on Me." Did any of the disciples have the affection for the Lord that she had shown? Well might they be ashamed when He speaks to them as He does.
The same act gets two opposite readings. The Lord gives His own.
But the blessed Master viewed it otherwise, and placed His own gracious interpretation upon it. What they called a "waste" He recognised as heartfelt worship. What they counted as loss to "the poor," He saw as her grasp of His coming death. She valued His sufferings, and that marked her as holding the truth in a way unknown to them. … He gently screens her from their cruel criticism. He spreads His sheltering wing around her, and firmly says, "Let her alone." If none can value her devotedness, He can, and does. Her Master's smile is enough for Mary.
The Lord does not simply call the deed good. He says where it landed.
There is no work so good as that done to Jesus. Works done for Jesus' sake are good, but what was done to Himself was far better.
That small phrase becomes the measuring line for everything a person can undertake:
"Why do you trouble her? She has done a good work on Me." It was this that stamped the act — "a good work on Me." This marked it off from all else. Everything must be valued by its connection with Christ. A man may travel the whole world to carry out noble works of philanthropy. He may give all his goods to feed the poor. He may go to the furthest limit of religion and morality, and still never do one single thing of which Christ can say, "It is a good work on Me."
The verdict was not sentiment. Someone examined the act who could see all the way down into her reasons.
Was it to display the exquisite perfume of her ointment? Was it to win the praise of men for her act? … No, reader, it was none of these things. How do we know? Because the Most High God was present — the Creator of all things, who knows the deepest secrets of every heart and the true motive of every action. He weighed her action in the balances of the sanctuary and stamped it with His approval. … He knew not only what she had done, but how and why she had done it, and He declared, "She has done a good work on Me."
Luke's Gospel already called Mary's choice good when she sat and listened. Here the same word describes something she does.
In Luke 10, we read that Mary chose "that good part." Here we learn that she does "a good work." The good part is to sit at His feet and hear His word. The good work is work that has Christ for its motive. There may be much activity in service, but if Christ is not the motive it will have little value in the day to come.
The objection sounded generous. The Lord's rebuke exposes what lay under it.
Men can appreciate kind acts done for men, but can see little, if any, value in an act of homage that has only Christ as its object. Are we as Christians not in the same danger? We may be rightly active in preaching to sinners and caring for the saints, and yet show little appreciation for an act of worship that makes everything of Christ. … If Mary's act is mere waste, then Christ is not worthy of the homage of His people.
One man set the tone, and men who truly loved Christ took it up.
We learn from this how one corrupt person can defile even those who have true hearts for Christ. Judas's fine-sounding concern for the poor quickly caught the disciples. They took up his hint and murmured — words that slighted Mary's devotedness and cast a slur on Christ just as much.
- Learned — the good work grew out of the good part; she sat at His feet and heard His word first.
- Aimed — what makes a work good is not its size or its usefulness but its direction: done to Christ Himself.
- Weighed — the One present knew not only what she did but how and why, and He put His approval on it.
- Sheltered — she never argued back. He answered for her, and His approval outweighed every voice in the room.
- Exposed — to call her act waste was to judge Christ's worth. The same instinct still prizes work for people over homage to Him.
for ye have the poor always with you, and whenever ye would ye can do them good; but me ye have not always.
At a supper near the end of Jesus' life, a woman named Mary poured a jar of ointment over Him, and the room turned on her. His answer set two things side by side: the poor, whom they could help any day, and Himself, whom they would soon lose.
The complaint that the money should have gone to the poor did not start with concern for the poor. It started with Judas, and he pulled the others in.
Judas stirred up the worldly mind of the other disciples. He had no fellowship with her, and Jesus was not precious in his eyes. So he found fault where Jesus was the adored object of Mary. It was so much taken from his own ill-gotten gains. He only pleaded the cause of the poor, and he stirred up the other disciples about it. Some of them grew indignant and asked why the ointment had been wasted. But love, while it would give everything away, never wastes anything. Self does, idle folly does, but love never.
The chance the Lord describes was one the objectors already had every day — and were not using.
Mary does not have to defend herself: the Lord did that. "Let her alone," He says. Did any of the disciples have the affection for the Lord that she had shown? Well might they be ashamed when He speaks to them as He does. They had the poor always with them: they had opportunity at any time to give to the poor. (Of course they were not suggesting that they should give to the poor, but that Mary should!)
The first half of the verse is not a shrug at poverty. God built care for the poor into the law of Israel, and Scripture keeps pressing it.
The Old Testament said that "the poor should never cease out of the land." In the rules of the law the LORD cared for them. "The poor have the gospel preached to them." Matt. 11:5. "He who has pity on the poor lends to the LORD." Prov. 19:17. Other passages show that when the love of God works in the soul, it leads to a special care for the poor. Gal. 2:10. Of the Lord Jesus we read that though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor. 2 Cor. 8:9.
So the Lord is not choosing between kindness to the poor and love for Himself. Both are good. But only one of them was about to run out.
Judas thought of himself, the others were full of philanthropy. It could have gone to the poor. Yes, there are a good many people who think more of philanthropy than of Christ; but Mary thought more of Christ than of philanthropy. But is not philanthropy a good thing? No doubt it is, for the Lord says, "For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you want, you can do good for them. But you will not always have me."
In the second half of the verse, Jesus speaks as a man who knows how few days He has left. Mary sensed it too.
She could have had many chances to sell the ointment for the poor, or to pour it on Christ before now. But, says the Lord, "She has kept this" for this supreme moment. The Lord lets everyone know that the ointment was kept for the day when He would be prepared for burial. The Lord does not forget the poor, for He says the poor are always with us. But with touching tenderness He adds, "You will not always have me". He knows He is about to leave, and Mary's spiritual instincts tell her that the shadow of death is closing round her Lord.
Love for Christ will not end when this life ends. What it costs now will end.
Love will find new ways of expressing itself to Him then. But it will not be what He looks for from us now. There will be no self to be denied, no cross to be borne, no world to be surrendered, no reproach to be encountered then.
That is why the missed chance cannot be recovered later.
That last night was Mary's one chance to give love's adoring witness to how precious He is. If she had missed it, she could never have recalled it through eternity.
The Lord praised the aim rather than the price — and He praised her for using what she had.
There may be much activity in service, but if Christ is not the motive it will have little value in the day to come. The Lord commends Mary's work because of its pure motive, and also because she had done "what she could." Does not this fine scene encourage us to do what we can, however small the service, with the pure motive of exalting Christ?
- Always — the poor are always within reach. Scripture presses their care from the law to the apostles. You can do them good "whenever you want" — that means today, not someday.
- Not always — Christ was about to die. Mary could never repeat that night's act, in this life or in eternity.
- Now — only here can love deny self, carry a cross, give up the world, and bear reproach for Him. Glory will hold none of these.
- Motive — service without Christ as its aim counts for little later. The smallest act done to exalt Him He calls good.
- Waste — the charge of extravagance came from a man protecting his own pocket. Love spends everything and wastes nothing.
What *she* could she has done. She has beforehand anointed my body for the burial.
A woman poured costly ointment on Jesus shortly before His death, and some in the room called it waste. The Lord answered with the words of this verse — words that praise her love and show He knew His burial was near.
Mary's act had a history. She had listened to Him, and that shaped what she sensed about the danger closing around Him.
Here we see Mary, who used to sit at Jesus' feet to listen to Him and to understand His words. There her heart had taken in the teaching that flowed from Jesus' heart. Jesus, the source of all blessings, was the object that had fixed her heart... The grace and love of Jesus had produced love for Him, and His word had produced spiritual intelligence. Now this love for the Saviour made her aware of the growing hatred of the Jews. The disciples knew that these men were seeking to kill Him, but Mary felt it. She was not a prophetess. Yet her heart sensed in advance what man's hatred wanted, and she did what she could as a witness of her own opposite feeling.
One writer draws a line between work done for Jesus' sake and work done to Him.
There is no work so good as that done to Jesus. Works done for Jesus' sake are good, but what was done to Himself was far better. What she did was not the least of what grace had produced up to that day... How fitting it is — though it is all of grace — that this woman's good deed is tied to the name of Jesus, wherever He is preached here below.
The Lord praises her for two things: her motive, and the fact that she did all she could.
The good part is to sit at His feet and hear His word; the good work is work which has Christ for its motive. There may be much activity in service, but if Christ is not the motive it will have little value in the day to come. The Lord commends Mary's work for its pure motive. He also commends it because she had done "what she could."
What He said of Mary settles how much He looks for from anyone.
Of Mary the Lord said, "She has done what she could" (Mark 14:8). This is all that He expects of each of us. Suppose we have a heart that is willing to serve the Lord and wants to do whatever He tells us to do, however small and ordinary it may be. Then we will soon find what we can do in service for Him and for precious souls.
The Lord reads her act as an anointing for His burial, done in advance. One writer contrasts her timing with those who came later.
She had come beforehand to anoint His body for the burying. Others, indeed, will come when it is too late with their sweet spices. Their appreciation of Christ is real, but it lacks understanding. Mary, with greater spiritual intelligence, expresses her love before the burial.
Her timing also shows how much she had grasped. She was not merely bracing for a funeral.
She had kept that ointment for the day of His burying. She knew Him as appointed to death, but she knew Him as appointed to resurrection also. And she comes in the faith of "the sufferings of Christ and the glories that were to follow," to make Him glad out of her ivory palace.
Not everyone valued what she did. One writer turns the objection around to show what it really measures.
Men can appreciate kind acts done for other people. But they see little, if any, value in an act of homage that has only Christ as its object. Are we not in the same danger as Christians? We can be right to be active in preaching to sinners and in caring for God's people, and still show little appreciation for an act of worship that makes everything of Christ... If Mary's act is mere waste, then Christ is not worthy of the homage of His people.
- Heard — Mary's service grew out of sitting at His feet. His word gave her a sense that His death was near. The disciples knew the danger; Mary felt it.
- Gave — she brought what she had, not what she lacked. "What she could" is all the Lord expects of anyone, however small and ordinary the act.
- Timed — she anointed Him before the burial. Others came too late with their spices. Love that acts in time does what late devotion cannot.
- Aimed — her work was good because she did it to Christ Himself, with Christ as her motive. Service without that motive will count for little later.
- Remembered — to call her act waste is to say Christ is not worth it. He answered by tying her deed to the good news, wherever He is preached.
And verily I say unto you, Wheresoever these glad tidings may be preached in the whole world, what this [woman] has done shall be also spoken of for a memorial of her.
Jesus has just answered those who called a woman's costly gift a waste. Now He adds more than a defence. He promises that her act will travel wherever the good news travels. So why tie one private act of love to the worldwide preaching of Christ's death?
The Lord defends her. Commentators point to a distinction in His answer: work done for His sake, and work done to Him.
The Lord pleaded her cause. "Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has done a good work to Me." There is no work so good as that done to Jesus. Works done for Jesus' sake are good, but what was done to Himself was far better... How fitting it is, though of grace, that this woman's good deed is tied to the name of Jesus, wherever He is preached here below. We do not have her name here. We learn from John that she was Mary the sister of Lazarus. Here the point was not so much who did it, but that it was done.
Kelly quotes verse 6 from an older translation; where he has "a good work," the ESV reads "a beautiful thing."
Her ointment was no random gift. She poured it out knowing what was coming, and what lay beyond it.
She believed that He would die and be buried. But she also believed that He would pass through death and the grave as a Conqueror. By that very process He would come into His anointing, His glories. She understood the mystery of victorious death, or of resurrection from the dead. The gospel hangs on that great fact. That is why the Lord says of her: wherever the gospel is preached, people will remember her deed, her faith. He made it a pattern faith, as Abraham's had been.
Her timing is what makes the act so striking. Others would bring their spices too late.
Others, indeed, will come when it is too late with their sweet spices to express their true, but unintelligent appreciation of Christ. Mary, with greater spiritual intelligence, expresses her love before the burial.
One writer links these words of the Lord to His loneliness in this world.
He found Himself isolated and alone in such a world, and not even His disciples understood Him. Full of sympathy for all, He found sympathy nowhere for Himself. If such sympathy did once break through the darkness of man's heart, it was something wonderful. That is why the Lord says: "wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her."
Why does her gift belong with the preaching? Ask what God is after in sending out the message.
He would make Christ known to us according to His own delight in Him. How rich the grace that has not only saved us from hell but would now bring us into fellowship with the very joys of God! For the Lord Jesus who has become precious to us is the eternal joy of God... God would have us enter into His estimate of Christ.
So her act shows what the message is meant to produce.
Her act of love is to be used for all time as a beautiful example of the true and proper result of the gospel. The gospel brings us the knowledge of salvation and the forgiveness of sins. But it does more. It wins the heart to Christ, so that He becomes the supreme object of life... the one supper that took place at Bethany has become the lasting memorial of a devoted saint and her love to Christ.
This verse is a prediction. One writer shows how it has come true, next to the opposite outcome in the same chapter.
His verdict was, "She has done what she could," which was very high praise. Moreover, He ordained that her act should be her memorial wherever the gospel is preached. Millions today, nineteen centuries later, know her name and remember her act with all honour. In the same way Judas is remembered, but with dishonour, and his name has become another word for wickedness and betrayal.
- Cost. She spent her best on Christ Himself. No work is better than one done to Him, not just for Him.
- Insight. She anointed Him before the burial; others came too late. Her gift rested on faith in a death that ends in victory.
- Comfort. He found sympathy nowhere. One heart broke through the darkness, and the Lord marked it forever.
- Purpose. The gospel does not stop at forgiveness; it wins the heart, so that God's own estimate of Christ becomes ours.
- Memorial. The promise held. The world tells her deed in honour, while Judas, in the same chapter, carries lasting shame.