Day 5 – Beautiful Devotion To A Beautiful Saviour

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.”

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 wagesand 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.”

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.

…

¹⁷ When evening came, Jesus arrived with the Twelve. ¹⁸ While they were reclining at the table eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.”

¹⁹ They were saddened, and one by one they said to him, “Surely you don’t mean me?”

²⁰ “It is one of the Twelve,” he replied, “one who dips bread into the bowl with me. ²¹ The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.”

²² While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take it; this is my body.”

²³ Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it.

²⁴ “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,” he said to them. ²⁵ “Truly I tell you, I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”

Comment

We began this week at a wedding, where Jesus turned water into wine and revealed the joy of God’s kingdom. We end at another table, with Jesus again speaking of wine and looking towards his ‘hour’. The joy he brings will come at an unimaginable cost: his body will be broken and his blood poured out. Here the beauty of Jesus reaches its climax—and two people make dramatically different responses to him.

Mark does not name the woman, but John’s account identifies her as Mary, the sister of Lazarus (John 12:3). She enters carrying an alabaster jar of pure nard, perhaps a family treasure and almost certainly the most valuable thing she owns. It is worth more than a year’s wages. Yet she breaks the jar and pours all of it over Jesus. There is no careful calculation, no portion kept in reserve and no concern for what the room will think.

Those watching call it wasteful. Their objection sounds virtuous: could not the perfume have been sold and the money given to the poor? Jesus is not dismissing care for the poor; he assumes that his disciples will continue to help them. But this moment is unique. Mary has recognised, however incompletely, that Jesus is heading towards death and that he is worthy of everything she can give. ‘She has done a beautiful thing to me,’ Jesus says (v.6). Her act is beautiful because it expresses wholehearted devotion to the beautiful Saviour.

Then Mark places Judas beside her. Mary gives up a treasure to honour Jesus; Judas gives up Jesus to gain money. Mary sees that Jesus is beyond price; Judas decides that something else is worth more. He is not a distant enemy but ‘one of the Twelve’. It is possible to be outwardly close to Jesus while another love rules the heart.

At supper Jesus does not simply point across the table and expose Judas. He says, ‘One of you will betray me’ (v.18), and every disciple asks, ‘Surely you don’t mean me?’ Judas’ action is uniquely terrible, yet the question reaches us. Greed captured Judas; fear will capture Peter; comfort, approval, ambition or pride may capture us. We betray Jesus whenever we knowingly place ourselves or something else before him.

Still, notice the way Jesus treats Judas. He sees the evil and refuses to minimise it, but he does not publicly humiliate him. He warns him without crushing him and gives him an opportunity to turn back. Jesus is perfectly just and remarkably gentle. Even towards the person about to betray him, he does not delight in shame. He seeks repentance. That too is beautiful.

Then Jesus takes bread and wine and shows us beauty beyond compare. ‘This is my body,’ he says. ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many’ (vv.22, 24). He knows one friend will betray him, one will deny him and all will desert him. Yet he gives himself for betrayers, failures and sinners—for people like them and us. He bears the judgement our treachery deserves so that we may receive mercy.

Mary’s devotion is therefore not the deepest beauty in this story. Jesus’ self-giving is. Nor do we become like Mary merely by gritting our teeth and trying to be more devoted. We look hard at Christ. His holy, gentle, costly love humbles us, melts us and draws us out of ourselves. As we see his worth, the tight grip of lesser treasures begins to loosen. We want to thank him, honour him, trust him and give ourselves to him.

This week we have seen Jesus’ joy and generosity, his welcome, mercy, truth and humble service. Now we see where they lead: to the cross, where the Lord of glory pours himself out for the undeserving. Christianity is beautiful because Christ is beautiful. His beauty invites our trust, awakens our worship and begins to reproduce his beautiful life in us.

Why does God want me to hear this today? Perhaps because, like Judas, I have allowed a rival love to become more precious than Jesus; or because, unlike Mary, my devotion has become calculating and guarded. Jesus does not call me to hide in shame or manufacture stronger feelings. He calls me to look again: to see his beauty, receive his mercy and treasure him above all.