Anointing
The Anointing at Bethany, (1618) Peter Paul Rubens and Anthony Van Dyck, Oil on canvas, The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg.
The house was filled with the fragrance of perfume. -John 12:3
A story about the anointing of Jesus is included in each of the four gospels.[1] There are some similarities. But there are also enough differences in the stories to make scholars wonder if the gospels record one anointing, two, or even three.
For most of the Lenten season, we’ve read from Luke’s text. But now, on the fifth Sunday of Lent, the lectionary schedule suggests using the anointing story from John. It makes the suggestion because this anointing clearly takes place later in Jesus’ ministry than the one in Luke’s Gospel.
At the center of the drama is a costly ointment. The manner in which it was used, and the way its fragrance filled the house, created a lasting memory for those who were there.
The text reminds me of a Christmas letter I’ve kept on file from Sid Martin, a retired engineer and member of First Presbyterian Church, Murray, Kentucky. Sid and his wife Jo befriended my son Ben during his college years. Along with the usual news, Sid included a four-page single-spaced essay about his quest to discover the source of the sweetest smell from his childhood farm in Pennsylvania. It came from a shrub with flowers perfumed better than any rose he had ever grown as an adult. Unfortunately, his father chopped it down to expand the family garden. Sixty years later, and then retired, Sid still was trying to figure out the identity of the bush whose sweet smell reminded him of his joyful early years.
One day, Sid and his wife stopped for lunch at Lake Barkley Resort in western Kentucky. After lunch, as they walked back to their car, he noticed some large seedpods on the ground. Out of simple curiosity, he picked up the seedpod and broke it apart. As soon as he broke the seedpod apart, bright red seeds fell out, and the long-lost smell filled the air. He looked up, and saw that he was surrounded by magnolia trees. Finally Sid had solved the mystery. The “bush” he remembered from childhood was a particular type of Magnolia tree. And the memory of its sweet smell had a power to motivate Sid across a lifetime to find it once again.[2] What smells transport you to another place and time? Do they link you to bad memories or, like Sid, to good ones?
It's fair to say that no biblical writer is more attentive to the power of smell than John. In this case, Jesus is at the home of Lazarus. Martha is being Martha, making sure that everyone is served their dinner. Hospitality customs require the host to provide jars of water so that feet dirtied during the journey may be washed, and olive oil to moisturize the skin. But Mary goes beyond that. She takes a pound of costly nard, and uses it to anoint the feet of Jesus – not just a little bit, but all of it. “And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”
What was this “nard?” You and I aren’t used to seeing a jar of nard in the health and beauty department at Target. If you dig deeper, then you’ll find that the Greek word for nard is pistikes, likely a rendering of the Aramaic word for the pistachio nut.[3] In the ancient near east, nut oil was precious and valuable. The nuts were carefully grown and harvested, ground into paste with granite stones, and slowly toasted in large cauldrons. Pistachios have a stingy yield, but give a beautiful oil described as having a “beguiling emerald green color.”[4]
Bible scholars say that the way John frames the anointing is purposeful. Immediately following this evening in Lazarus’ home, Jesus will go to Jerusalem for the final climactic days before his passion. Mary is anointing Jesus’ body with nard in symbolic preparation for his burial.[5]
Judas doesn’t appreciate that symbolism, and isn’t happy with what he sees. Regardless of his motives, we may have some appreciation for his position. Doesn’t it seem like a waste? How would we feel if someone in our family took the most precious bottle of perfume, and poured it all out at once?
Jesus sees it differently. He isn’t frustrated or disappointed by Mary’s use of the nard. He says that there is something fitting and appropriate about this anointing. He is pleased with Mary’s extravagant gift.
Since my granddaughter Nora is a patient at St. Jude Children’s Hospital, I’m naturally more sensitive to news stories about the place. (Nora, by the way, is entering into the final weeks of her primary chemotherapy. This past week was the final scheduled overnight stay, and in a few weeks she will receive the final installment of an experimental chemotherapy drug).
This past Fall, a story appeared about Jerry Lacattiva, who spent nearly his entire life in a small town in east-central Pennsylvania. He worked for the bureau of prisons, and lived in a modest home. Somewhere along the way, he began making small gifts to St. Jude. As he neared the end of his life, he had become an enthusiastic supporter of its mission to create a world in which no child dies of cancer.
Jerry felt a call to do more. Through his personal attorney, he worked with the St. Jude development office to craft a special gift. This past September, the executor of his estate presented St. Jude representatives a check for $1,287,277.11 to help fund an advanced research lab. St. Jude has promised to donors that research from this lab will be shared with hospitals worldwide.[6]
Jerry’s final act of service to St. Jude is a reminder to me that there is something sacramental, something grace-filled about an extravagant gift when given in love with no expectation of anything received in return.
A final point: Some scholars don’t understand why Mary anoints Jesus’ feet rather than his head. Some scholars lift up a hypothesis that John again is being sensitive to symbolism. The Messiah he follows will not be a warrior anointed on the head as in the days of old. He will turn expectations upside down. He will win the war for human souls not with a sword, but as the Suffering Servant, the one who, in just a short time, will wash his disciples’ feet.
The next day, the anointed one rises and goes toward Jerusalem. Multitudes of people meet him with palm branches waving, and shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel.” The new King rides into the city. Underneath all the excitement, he is preparing to die, knowing this is the only path left to him to fulfill his calling. It will be his extravagant gift of love, a fragrant offering to God.
NOTES
[1] Parallels to this pericope in John are Matthew 26:6-13, Mark 14:3-9, and Luke 7:36-50.
[2] Sid Martin, “The Sweetest Smell,” 27 Jun. 2003, included with Christmas letter, 18 Dec. 2008.
[3] Gerald Sloyan, John, Interpretation Bible Commentary Series, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988, p. 153.
[4] The process of making oil is described by Ari Weinzweig in “Zingerman’s Guide to Good Eating,” New York: Houghton Mifflin Co., 2003, pp. 59-63.
[5] Sloyan, p. 153.
[6] Valeria Quinones, “Hazleton man leaves over one million dollars to St Jude Children’s Research Hospital,” https://www.wnep.com/video/news/local/luzerne-county/523-bde7733d-4640-4deb-a1a1-c1cdbb5a13c4 5 Sept. 2024, accessed 3 Apr. 2025.
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