Gospel Reflection - The woman with the alabaster jar
Paul McGowan
And being in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious; and she brake the box and poured it on his head. And there were some that had indignation within themselves, and said, Why was this waste of the ointment made? For it might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have been given to the poor. And they murmured against her. And Jesus said, Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me. For ye have the poor with you always, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good; but me ye have not always. She hath done what she could: she is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you: Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.
(The Gospel of Mark, chapter 14, verses 3-9, King James Bible version.)
Mark 14:3-9 New International Version (NIV)
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.
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.
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.
The woman reflects on her actions, remembering some of the words of Psalm 102.
I have had what they call ‘a good life’, I suppose. Comfortable. Much to give thanks for, many blessings, ‘good things’, as the Psalm says. I like nice things, nice clothes, nice furniture. I try not to forget this. I brought lots of them to mind, as many as I could, for support, on the road to Bethany. It’s a short walk from Jerusalem, just a few miles and I know it well. We have – had, I ought to say now - a lovely house in Jerusalem, which my son can now have all to himself and his family. He doesn’t know this yet. He thinks I have just gone to stay with our friends in Bethany for a few days, until the festival is over and the crowds have gone. ‘It is he who forgives all your guilt’, says the Psalm. I hope so. I do feel very guilty.
My husband, another of my ‘blessings’ – redeem his life from the grave, Lord. He built up a thriving business in the city. Trading, importing. So many beautiful and strange things. Pearls from the Gulf, precious stones, spices and perfumes from somewhere called India, far away in the east. The other side of the world, some say, as far as it is possible to go. He was a real connoisseur. A great eye. Hence, of course, he chose me….
My children, all grown up now and married. And then the ‘children’s children’, as it says. What lies ahead for them? Will our covenant with the Lord still hold for them? Will they continue to ‘keep his will in their mind’? Have I gone and spoilt it all for them? Not good when your elderly mother runs off. Could have repercussions for them all back in the city.
It was late in the afternoon when I reached Bethany. It’s true, I do know people here. That, at least, was no lie. I don’t know what they will think when I turn up on their doorstep, though. ‘He knows of what we are made’. A woman on her own in a place that is not her own. How weak I suddenly felt, how insignificant, like ‘the flowers of the field’. Should I go to our friends’ house first, in case someone tells them they’ve seen me? No, better to get it over with. I might lose courage if they start asking me questions. Better go on to where he usually stays when he comes to Bethany.
The house was full of people. All men, of course. Always men, filling the house with their odours. Most of them looked like outdoor types. Some of them were fishermen, I had heard, from Galilee. You can tell by their accents anyway. No hiding that. I checked again, as if I needed to, that the flask was still there. And the other items, and the money.
A week ago, they had arrived in the city and caused a great commotion in the streets, I can tell you. Nothing like this had been seen before, not within living memory at least. People were shouting that the Messiah had come. This is not something you can just ignore and hope it will go away. The harder question is: what do you think about it? Is it true? There would be signs, we have been told. The signs were there, some said. Therefore, it was true. But then, you think, well, why now? why here? why us?
The bottle was warm in my hand. Smooth as silk, but tiny. This was not just one of those ‘good things’ I mentioned. This was the best! It was always kept in a very secure place – not in the house, and certainly not in the shop. There are not many who can afford it, so I knew it wouldn’t be missed straight away. ‘Do not treat us according to our sins’, it says. Stealing is a sin, against the ways of the Lord. Strictly speaking, all the goods now belong to my son, bequeathed to him by his father. ‘The Lord has pity on those who fear him.’ What his father would have thought about his plotting I don’t know. Maybe he would have intervened and warned him not to get involved. Anyway, I’ve taken a couple more pieces, to tide me over.
In the last few days, my son has been going out at all hours; business meetings, he says. I don’t think so. Not normal business anyway. People coming to the house too. I recognised some of them. Important people in the city. Members of the Council. I was in the kitchen, but I overheard them. At least, I heard enough to make up my mind. They should have paid me more attention. Stupid old woman, they probably thought. She won’t understand, even if she hears everything. My son does business differently to his father. He goes for a quick profit rather than looking for quality goods. Knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. Also, he deals with the Romans. Construction, foodstuffs. His friends flatter him on the information he gets out of the deals, but behind his back they despise him.
The house is just here on the left. Too late to turn back now. Don’t lose your nerve. Go in. Push your way through before they notice. Take out the bottle and do it! There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of appreciation as the perfume floated on the air. Jesus was surprised, of course he was, but he was always in control of the situation. I had noticed that when I had seen him teaching in the Temple. Even when he was angry he was still in control. I had the chance to tell him, but I couldn’t. What difference would it have made? They would never have believed me. They never believe what women say. He was doomed anyway. A marked man. The plans were already in place, and my son was in the thick of them.
Some say the perfume was to honour the Messiah; some say it was more like the preparation of a corpse. It was both, I suppose, given what I knew and given what I wanted to believe.
Well, then pandemonium broke out! What a waste! A whole year’s wages! Who does this woman think she is! I slipped out while they were still shouting. I could hear them half-way down the street. I can still hear them in my head. But I’m glad I did it, for what it’s worth. Jesus said ‘She has done what she could’, but this was not the whole truth. I knew much more. It was a feeble effort, compared to what awaited him.
That is why I cannot go back. Not the theft or the deceit. If we have killed another prophet, maybe even the Messiah, what have we got left? So for me the old life is finished. But I do not know what alternatives there are.
I say I cannot go back, but what do I say to my friends, whose house is just down the next street? I need to calm myself. They will see something’s not right. Get the story straight in my head. Stick it out a few days then say I’d better be getting back to Jerusalem. Invite them to come over in a week or two, just as normal. To give me a few days’ start. And then I need to go somewhere they won’t look, somewhere I’ve never been before. Galilee, perhaps.
Paul McGowan
And being in Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious; and she brake the box and poured it on his head. And there were some that had indignation within themselves, and said, Why was this waste of the ointment made? For it might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have been given to the poor. And they murmured against her. And Jesus said, Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me. For ye have the poor with you always, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good; but me ye have not always. She hath done what she could: she is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you: Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.
(The Gospel of Mark, chapter 14, verses 3-9, King James Bible version.)
Mark 14:3-9 New International Version (NIV)
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.
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.
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.
The woman reflects on her actions, remembering some of the words of Psalm 102.
I have had what they call ‘a good life’, I suppose. Comfortable. Much to give thanks for, many blessings, ‘good things’, as the Psalm says. I like nice things, nice clothes, nice furniture. I try not to forget this. I brought lots of them to mind, as many as I could, for support, on the road to Bethany. It’s a short walk from Jerusalem, just a few miles and I know it well. We have – had, I ought to say now - a lovely house in Jerusalem, which my son can now have all to himself and his family. He doesn’t know this yet. He thinks I have just gone to stay with our friends in Bethany for a few days, until the festival is over and the crowds have gone. ‘It is he who forgives all your guilt’, says the Psalm. I hope so. I do feel very guilty.
My husband, another of my ‘blessings’ – redeem his life from the grave, Lord. He built up a thriving business in the city. Trading, importing. So many beautiful and strange things. Pearls from the Gulf, precious stones, spices and perfumes from somewhere called India, far away in the east. The other side of the world, some say, as far as it is possible to go. He was a real connoisseur. A great eye. Hence, of course, he chose me….
My children, all grown up now and married. And then the ‘children’s children’, as it says. What lies ahead for them? Will our covenant with the Lord still hold for them? Will they continue to ‘keep his will in their mind’? Have I gone and spoilt it all for them? Not good when your elderly mother runs off. Could have repercussions for them all back in the city.
It was late in the afternoon when I reached Bethany. It’s true, I do know people here. That, at least, was no lie. I don’t know what they will think when I turn up on their doorstep, though. ‘He knows of what we are made’. A woman on her own in a place that is not her own. How weak I suddenly felt, how insignificant, like ‘the flowers of the field’. Should I go to our friends’ house first, in case someone tells them they’ve seen me? No, better to get it over with. I might lose courage if they start asking me questions. Better go on to where he usually stays when he comes to Bethany.
The house was full of people. All men, of course. Always men, filling the house with their odours. Most of them looked like outdoor types. Some of them were fishermen, I had heard, from Galilee. You can tell by their accents anyway. No hiding that. I checked again, as if I needed to, that the flask was still there. And the other items, and the money.
A week ago, they had arrived in the city and caused a great commotion in the streets, I can tell you. Nothing like this had been seen before, not within living memory at least. People were shouting that the Messiah had come. This is not something you can just ignore and hope it will go away. The harder question is: what do you think about it? Is it true? There would be signs, we have been told. The signs were there, some said. Therefore, it was true. But then, you think, well, why now? why here? why us?
The bottle was warm in my hand. Smooth as silk, but tiny. This was not just one of those ‘good things’ I mentioned. This was the best! It was always kept in a very secure place – not in the house, and certainly not in the shop. There are not many who can afford it, so I knew it wouldn’t be missed straight away. ‘Do not treat us according to our sins’, it says. Stealing is a sin, against the ways of the Lord. Strictly speaking, all the goods now belong to my son, bequeathed to him by his father. ‘The Lord has pity on those who fear him.’ What his father would have thought about his plotting I don’t know. Maybe he would have intervened and warned him not to get involved. Anyway, I’ve taken a couple more pieces, to tide me over.
In the last few days, my son has been going out at all hours; business meetings, he says. I don’t think so. Not normal business anyway. People coming to the house too. I recognised some of them. Important people in the city. Members of the Council. I was in the kitchen, but I overheard them. At least, I heard enough to make up my mind. They should have paid me more attention. Stupid old woman, they probably thought. She won’t understand, even if she hears everything. My son does business differently to his father. He goes for a quick profit rather than looking for quality goods. Knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. Also, he deals with the Romans. Construction, foodstuffs. His friends flatter him on the information he gets out of the deals, but behind his back they despise him.
The house is just here on the left. Too late to turn back now. Don’t lose your nerve. Go in. Push your way through before they notice. Take out the bottle and do it! There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of appreciation as the perfume floated on the air. Jesus was surprised, of course he was, but he was always in control of the situation. I had noticed that when I had seen him teaching in the Temple. Even when he was angry he was still in control. I had the chance to tell him, but I couldn’t. What difference would it have made? They would never have believed me. They never believe what women say. He was doomed anyway. A marked man. The plans were already in place, and my son was in the thick of them.
Some say the perfume was to honour the Messiah; some say it was more like the preparation of a corpse. It was both, I suppose, given what I knew and given what I wanted to believe.
Well, then pandemonium broke out! What a waste! A whole year’s wages! Who does this woman think she is! I slipped out while they were still shouting. I could hear them half-way down the street. I can still hear them in my head. But I’m glad I did it, for what it’s worth. Jesus said ‘She has done what she could’, but this was not the whole truth. I knew much more. It was a feeble effort, compared to what awaited him.
That is why I cannot go back. Not the theft or the deceit. If we have killed another prophet, maybe even the Messiah, what have we got left? So for me the old life is finished. But I do not know what alternatives there are.
I say I cannot go back, but what do I say to my friends, whose house is just down the next street? I need to calm myself. They will see something’s not right. Get the story straight in my head. Stick it out a few days then say I’d better be getting back to Jerusalem. Invite them to come over in a week or two, just as normal. To give me a few days’ start. And then I need to go somewhere they won’t look, somewhere I’ve never been before. Galilee, perhaps.