Matthew 26:6–13

Until the supper at Bethany, nothing special is recorded about Judas. The rebuke he received from the Lord in the house of Simon the leper was what stirred him up to betray Jesus. That was the first time we read of him opening his mouth (John 12:4). Both Matthew and Mark teach us this by bringing in the story of Mary of Bethany anointing the Lord. They do not place it in the order it happened, as John does, but next to that council held in the house of Caiaphas the high priest.

While the chief priests, elders and scribes were plotting against Christ "in the palace of the high priest who was called Caiaphas," she was anointing His body "in the house of Simon the leper." While Judas was making his bargain with the chief priests to sell Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, she was pouring the precious contents of her alabaster box on His Person. What a moving contrast! She was completely taken up with her object, and her object was Christ.

...the time of His complete and final rejection is near, and He finds a home for a short season at Bethany. It is very sweet to follow Jesus into that brief retreat of love. In a world that did not understand Him and refused Him, His heart was hemmed in until the cross. Here it enjoys the answer that His own heart had produced.

Bethany means the "House of Palms," so it points to a place of rest, like an oasis in the desert. There is scriptural evidence that the Lord used to go to Bethany when He was near Jerusalem... There were loyal hearts there who appreciated His company and prized His love, in contrast to the treachery of Judas, the hatred of the Pharisees, the cruelty of the soldiers and the cold hard fickleness of the people.

It was known as the house of Simon the leper. He was a cured leper, and it is possible, as some have thought, that he was the father of Martha and Mary, and Lazarus... We cannot be positive who this Simon was, so we say no more except that it is not the Simon who is spoken of in Luke 7. That scene is in Galilee, this in Judea. And further, the woman of Luke 7 was an immoral person, a well known sinner. There is not a single word to suggest anything like that about Mary of Bethany.

If the Lord had healed Simon at some earlier time, as some have supposed, his heart must have been full to overflowing for the mercy shown him. No wonder he would make Him a feast. And Lazarus was there too, raised from the dead. Two of that company were living proof of the Lord's power and goodness! God only could heal the leper; God only could raise the dead. A leper healed, a dead man raised, and the Son of God who had healed the one and raised the other — all at the same table. Never before, we may say it without fear of contradiction, had a supper taken place in such circumstances.

Matthew does not mention (as does John 12:2) that in Simon's house "they made Him a supper" nor that it was Mary who brought the alabaster box of ointment. For Matthew's Gospel is that of the official glory of the King, and the name of the woman is not important.

How precious is the gathering in the house of Simon the leper in contrast to that in the palace of the high priest! Here at Bethany (the house of affliction) the Lord had raised Lazarus from the dead only a few days before. Matthew does not mention (as John 12:2 does) that it was Mary who brought the alabaster box of ointment. For Matthew's Gospel is that of the official glory of the King, and the name of the woman is not important. As the Son of God in John, however, His personal interest in her is precious to see.

The woman who did this blessed work for the Lord is not named here. From the Gospel of John we learn that it was none other than Mary, the sister of Martha... We first see her at His feet listening to His words. "One thing is necessary, and Mary has chosen the good portion," He had said then... She acknowledged Him in His office as Prophet... In John 11 we see her again at His feet. There she is weeping because of the death of Lazarus; a little while later He weeps with her. She knew Him as the sympathising One, as He is now our Priest. And here she anoints Him... In faith she sees how near His death is. She understood more of that death than all the other disciples.

A valuable stone, a form of lime, used long ago to make jars for holding valuable ointments. It is probable that 'breaking' the box means breaking the seal, to open the box.

These flasks held about a pound of this costly ointment. The probable value was 300 denarii... It was a very large sum of money in that time, when we remember that a day labourer received only one denarius wages a day... How did she get such a costly alabaster flask of spikenard? Most likely it had been stored away from days gone by. It must have been the most costly thing she had... To honour Him was her sole object, and that at a time when He was about to be rejected and forsaken by all.

She clearly anointed both His head and His feet. Matthew emphasises His character as King, so he mentions that she anointed His head, as fits a king. John emphasises His Deity, so he tells us that she anointed His feet — though a servant as great as John the Baptist was not worthy to untie His sandals.

"You did not anoint my head with oil" (Luke 7:46) shows us it was usual to anoint guests. But this woman does more: she broke the box and poured it on His head. There is no stint here, but the contrary. I wish we followed this pattern more in our worship, and had more to give the blessed Saviour.

In a word, Christ Himself was the immediate object of this woman's soul. This is what gave value to her act. This is what sent the fragrance of her ointment straight up to the throne of God. She had no idea that untold millions would read the record of her deep personal devotion.

No one else should ever be anointed out of that box. It was broken. She meant that ointment for Him, and for Him alone. As far as we read, she said not one word while she anointed Him. Her act, however, spoke louder than words. He was worthy of the best she had... "The house," writes the Gospel writer, "was filled with the fragrance of the perfume" (John 12:3).

A little leaven leavens the whole lump. John tells us that Judas found fault with Mary's act. Mark says that there were "some," and Matthew that the Lord's "disciples" had indignation... John shows where the failure began: in the greedy heart of Judas. It seems his pretended godliness and his concern for the poor swayed all the disciples. What a contrast! The scent of Mary's ointment filled the house. The evil thought of Judas spread its harmful influence over the hearts of all the disciples!

Judas stirred up the worldly thinking of the other disciples. He shared nothing of her heart. Jesus was not precious in his eyes. So he found fault, while Mary adored Jesus. To him the ointment was so much taken from his own dishonest gains. He only pleaded the cause of the poor, and he stirred up the other disciples about it. So "there were some indignant in themselves, and saying, Why was this waste of the ointment made?" But love pours out everything and still wastes nothing. Self wastes. Foolishness wastes. Love never does.

If I take the noun "perdition" or "destruction," the result is the same. No single passage shows that it means ceasing to exist. In many places it means putting something to a bad use, and the like. I will note some of them. "To what purpose is this waste [of the ointment]?" (Matt. 26:8). "Why was this waste of the ointment made?" It is a bad use of it here, Mark 14:4.

The disciples, led away by the spirit of Judas, are indignant at what they call waste. To be sure, spending anything on Jesus is waste in the eyes of the world. Spending on what is useful for man is not waste... but on Christ, loving devotion to Him — to what purpose?... But the Lord accepts it. Care for the poor is right and good, and the Lord accepts it. But love for Him is above all, at a time when the world's ruin and eternity depend on the showing of His self-sacrificing love, whether it is rejected or accepted.

The indignation of the disciples is a sad comment on their lack of discernment... What she had done was a good work. She spent all the ointment, expensive as it was, on the Lord Himself, not on others, and not even on the Lord's work. He valued such affection for Him. This was, in effect, her last chance to anoint Him. Within two days He would be crucified, and the women who came later with their spices and ointments were too late (Lk. 23:56; 24:1-3).

Pharaoh called Israel's request to worship God "idleness." The disciples call the spending of three hundred pence on the body of Jesus "waste." But to give the Lord His own — the honour or the sacrifice, the love of the heart, the work of the hands, or the wealth of the house — is neither idleness nor waste. Giving to God is the highest work of all.

Some were indignant at what they called "waste." How sad that even disciples would deny the Lord the honour that is rightly His. Judas clearly led the way in this (John 12:4-5), but others were willing to follow his materialistic reasoning. Its value came to about a year's wages for a working man. It sounds plausible that this money might have been given to the poor. But man's wisdom is ignorance compared to God's thoughts.

When Judas, with barely hidden greed, spoke of her act as a waste, he too got his answer. 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 — a man who professed faith, an apostle, all of that — loved money; and sadly, that is no uncommon love. He had no heart for Christ, though he may have preached and cast out demons in His blessed name.

A little leaven leavens the whole lump. John tells us that Judas found fault with Mary's act. Mark says that there were "some," and Matthew that the Lord's "disciples" were indignant, saying, "Why this waste?" John shows where the failure started — in the covetous heart of Judas. It seems that his pretended piety and concern for the poor influenced all the disciples. What a contrast! The fragrance of Mary's ointment filled the house. The evil thought of Judas spread its poison through the hearts of all the disciples.

Men can appreciate kind acts done for other people. But they see little value, if any, in an act of homage that has only Christ as its object. As Christians, are we not in danger of the same thing? We may be right and busy in preaching to sinners and caring for believers, and still show little appreciation for an act of worship that makes everything of Christ. Let us not forget that those who murmur at Mary's devotedness are in reality putting a low value on Christ. If Mary's act is mere waste, then Christ is not worthy of the homage of His people.

Judas regarded this as waste. In his view the money would have been put to better use serving the needs of men — the idea of philanthropy. But the Lord defends Mary. Spending energy or resources in worship is no waste. Worship is the most worthy cause there has ever been. It is the highest form of service, because it is directed to God.

That treasure might have been sold for much if Mary had kept it for herself. But that sale would have been a selling into slavery. And if we withhold our treasure, if we refuse our best to God, we too are sold into slavery to that desire. It may not be a sin, but it is a weight. We drag a ball and chain around with us, in bondage to that desire, instead of walking in the full freedom of the sons of God. But if, like Mary, we pour out our treasure, then it is the things that are in bondage, and we are free.

He only pleaded the cause of the poor, and stirred up the other disciples about it. But love, while it will lavish everything, never wastes anything. Self wastes, idle folly wastes, but love never does.

But the blessed Master viewed it otherwise, and placed His own gracious interpretation on it. What they called a "waste" He recognised as heartfelt worship. What they counted as so much loss to "the poor," He saw differently. In it He saw that she understood His coming death and valued His sufferings. That marked her as having the truth in a way unknown to them.

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.

Some raised the plausible objection that Mary was depriving the poor of what would have helped them. The Lord replied that opportunities to serve the poor were plentiful, and would not run out. Opportunities to serve Him in His humiliation would now be very few.

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. 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." Here was a woman whose heart was wrapped up in Him.

The poor are a part of His legacy to the church... it is always good to find out the mind of the Lord and follow the wisdom of Scripture, rather than the conventions of men.

What she had done was a good work. All the ointment, expensive as it was, was spent on the Lord Himself, not on others, nor even on the Lord's work. He valued such affection for Him. This was in effect her last chance to anoint Him. Within two days He would be crucified. The women who came later with their spices and ointments were too late.

When the glory has come, "His servants will serve Him," perfectly then, as surely as we will "see His face" — love finding new ways to express itself to the One it loves in the glory. But if He came tonight to take us there, never, if we have missed it here, would He call us to go out to Him outside the camp bearing His reproach. He would never ask again, "Do this in remembrance of Me"... All this and much more is over for ever, and the opportunity past if we miss it now. "You will not always have Me."

From John 12 we gather that the woman was Mary of Bethany. Clearly she anointed both His head and His feet. Matthew brings out His kingly character, so he tells us the ointment went on His head, as befits a king. John brings out His Deity, so he tells us she anointed His feet — the feet of One whose sandals a great servant like John the Baptist was not worthy to untie.

As to the body, the Lord can say, "In pouring this ointment on my body, she has done it to prepare me for burial" — Matthew 26:12. He refers to "the temple of His body" — John 2:21. He can say "a body have you prepared for me" — Hebrews 10:5. Then we read of "the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all" — Hebrews 10:10. Again we read, "He himself bore our sins in his body" — 1 Peter 2:24.

The Lord lets everyone know that the ointment was kept for the day of His preparation for burial… He knows His departure is near. Mary's spiritual instincts tell her that the shadow of death is closing around her Lord. Lazarus was a witness to the resurrection power of Christ. Mary's act witnessed something else: the One who had the power of resurrection life was going into death. As so often, devoted love gives divine understanding. So she seemed to be the only one who entered into the mind of the Lord, and realised that death was before Him.

This woman may not have understood what she was going to do. But she seems to have felt that she was about to lose Jesus. So she had to spend on Him, right there, all that she had most precious. There is an instinct of affection that finds its expression when needed… Jesus interprets it… The woman was ignorant, yet the Lord speaks as if she had known about His death and burial, just as He knew it Himself. And He rewards her in keeping with that.

She had come beforehand to anoint His body for the burial. Others will come with their sweet spices when it is too late. Their appreciation of Christ is real, but it lacks understanding. Mary, with greater spiritual understanding, expresses her love before the burial.

A woman comes and spends on Him what she had most precious. The growing power of evil, working through grace, drew out this right-hearted devotedness. But the disciples, led away by the spirit of Judas, are indignant at what they call waste. To be sure, spending anything on Jesus is waste in the eyes of the world. Spend it on what is useful for man, and it is not waste… Care for the poor is all right and well; the Lord owns it. But love to Him is above all — at a moment when the world's ruin and eternity depend on the showing of His self-sacrificing love, whether men reject it or own it.

Here was a glorious vindication. Before it, all human indignation, scorn and misunderstanding must pass away like morning mist before the rising sun. "Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a good work upon Me." It was this that stamped the act — "a good work upon Me." This marked it off from everything else. Everything must be valued by its connection with Christ. A man may travel the whole world to carry out noble aims of philanthropy. He may hand out the fruits of a large-hearted generosity like a prince. He may give all his goods to feed the poor. He may go to the furthest limit of religion and morality. And yet he may never do one single thing of which Christ can say, "It is a good work upon Me."

Mary's worshipping love for the person of the Lord, and her sense of His danger, led her on. She poured out the ointment until its sweet scent filled the house of Bethany. But Judas roused the natural thinking of the other disciples; he had no communion with her; Jesus was not precious in his eyes. The ointment was so much taken from his own dishonest gains. He only pleaded the cause of the poor. He stirred up the other disciples about it, so that "there were some indignant in themselves, and saying, Why was this waste of the ointment made?" But love, while it would lavish all, never wastes anything; self does, idle folly does, but love never.

There may not have been full understanding in this woman of what she was about to do. But it seems she felt that she was about to lose Jesus, and that she must spend all she had most precious on Him there... The woman was ignorant, yet the Lord speaks as if she had known about His death and burial, as He did Himself. And He rewards her for it.

She believed that He would die and be buried. But she also believed He would pass through death and the grave as a Conqueror. By that very process He would enter His anointing and His glories. She understood the mystery of victorious death, or resurrection from the dead, on which the whole gospel hangs. That is why the Lord says of her: wherever people preach the gospel, they will remember her deed and her faith. He made it a pattern faith, as Abraham's had been.

Her act of love stands for all time as a beautiful example of the true and proper result of the gospel. The gospel does not only bring us the knowledge of salvation and the forgiveness of sins. It also wins the heart to Christ, so that He becomes the supreme object of life. The Lord's Supper, kept through all the ages, is a continual memorial of the perfect Saviour and His infinite love to His people. But the one supper at Bethany has become the lasting memorial of a devoted saint and her love to Christ.

It was worth recording in all ages that one heart valued the Saviour when the world had turned against Him. Even the disciples had neither heart nor understanding to see and know His preciousness at that solemn moment. It was not insincerity in them but poverty of heart. It was man's heart, looking no deeper than prudence and common sense. Divine perception was not there. Attachment to Christ felt what was fitting, and drew out divine knowledge for Him.