Sermon Discussion Questions:

1. What Mary did was costly, fragrant, extravagant, impolite, and impractical. What seemed most suprising to you?
2. What about Judas' critique of Mary makes sense to you? What parts of yourself do you see in his response?
3. Why is it significant that Jesus does not call out Judas' hypocrisy? 
4. How do we leave this story more like Mary and less like Judas? What can you do?

Lazarus was dead, and now he is alive. Jesus has put His own life in the crosshairs of the Jews of Jerusalem by bringing Lazarus back from the dead.

In six days from this story, Jesus will be dead. And—significantly—so will Judas. Wracked with guilt over betraying Jesus, Judas will hang himself. But the contrast we are invited to today is between Mary and Judas. Both are presented to us the reader as alternative pictures of a disciple of Jesus: one sincere, the other false; one leading to life, the other to death.

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Six days before the Passover, Jesus therefore came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. 2 So they gave a dinner for him there. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him at table. 3 Mary therefore took a pound of expensive ointment made from pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” 6 He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of my burial. 8 For the poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me.” - John 12:1-8

What Mary Did

Mary therefore took a pound of expensive ointment made from pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. - John 12:3

It was costly

“Nard was a rare and precious spice imported from northern India…A pound of the spice would have been huge and lavish. Its value of three hundred denarii represents one year’s wage for a day-laborer (Matt. 20:1 - 16). Some cheaper nard cost one hundred denarii per pound (depending on its origin: Gaul, Crete, or Syria), but our story shows that Mary has purchased the very best.” - NIVAC

It is surprising that Mary owns this. It is even more surprising that Mary would part with it. What’s your annual salary? If you owned a possession worth that much, would you part with it?

It was very rare for women to earn a substantial amount of money back then. We are nowhere told that Mary has a husband. Every time she shows up, we are only told about her being with her sister and her brother. This invites us to wonder how a woman would come to afford such an exorbitantly expensive perfume. Maybe Mary’s family comes from wealth. Maybe this is a family heirloom. Maybe this was set aside for a wedding dowry. We don’t know. But we know that it was remarkably expensive. In Mark’s account of this story, we are told that this ointment was kept in an “alabaster jar” which was broken (Mark 14:3). Alabaster itself is an expensive stone, but this jar was either not made with a resealable lid and so had to be broken to be opened. Either way, the smashing of the vessel reveals that Mary intends to give the whole of this expensive ointment to Jesus, to hold nothing back. Which brings us to the next aspect of Mary’s act of worship.

It was pungent

“The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” You have to remember that in Jesus’ day, hygiene was different. You would wash your hands, and your feet, but our idea of a daily shower, soap, scented soap, wouldn’t have existed for 99% of people. Today, we are used to people smelling good (body wash, deodorant, perfume, cologne, etc.) but in Jesus’ day body odor would have been a fairly normal thing. Which would make the splash of this exquisite perfume all the more astonishing; amidst the sweat of a Middle-Eastern evening, a field of wild flowers fills the air.

The house is filled with the fragrance of Mary’s worship. In the Old Testament, one of the key elements of worship that would take place in the Tabernacle and Temple was the burning of incense, sweet smelling incense. When God accepted a sacrifice, He would often describe it as a “pleasing aroma,” (e.g, Gen 8:21). Why? It isn’t because God has nostrils and an olfactory system to smell. He describes sacrifices as pleasing aromas and commands the burning of incense, for our sake. You know what it is like to wake up on a Saturday morning and you can smell breakfast? The smell of coffee and pancakes and bacon? That’s a good Saturday! And God is trying to help us, accommodate to us, by saying: your worship is pleasing to me like that. It smells good! The part of our brain responsible for processing smell is right next to the part responsible for storing memory. Which is why it is so easy for a scent to immediately transport you back in time, to remember something. And God wanted the scents of worship to help His people remember that He was pleased with their worship—this incense smells good to us, it smells good to God, too.

The last time a scent was referred to in John’s story? Martha telling Jesus that there will be an odor coming from the tomb, because Lazarus had been dead for four days (John 11:39). And the life and resurrection power of Jesus reverses the decay and odor of death, and Mary’s sweet fragrant perfume symbolizes the beauty of life that Jesus brings…even as it is described as the anointing oils for His own death.

It was extravagant

Mary pours all of it out, all at once! The alabaster jar is broken and she does not intend to save any of this for herself. She could have poured a much smaller amount, and then used the rest moderately for herself in the following weeks. But she doesn’t.

And that she pours it on His feet? Matthew and Mark tell us that she pours it on His head (Mark 14:3, Matt 26:6), but John tells us she pours it on His feet. Obviously, she must have done both—she had a pound of the ointment, so there would have been enough to liberally apply to both feet and head. So why does John tell us that Mary anointed Jesus’ feet?

Remember the words of John the Baptist describing Jesus: “the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie,” (John 1:27). John emphasizes Mary’s humble devotion in a way that is reminiscent of John the Baptist: she is not worthy to anoint Jesus’ head, but only His feet. To clean feet was the lowliest task, relegated to slaves and servants—a position that Jesus Himself will fulfill in the next chapter as He cleans His disciples feet. This is the position that Mary feels she is fit for in relation to Jesus. But water is not enough to clean Her Lord’s feet; she must find the most expensive, lavish, and extravagant substance she owns to serve her King rightly.

It was impolite

“As a rule, it was a breach of etiquette for Jewish male fellowship to be interrupted by women unless they were serving food,” (Edwards, PNTC: Mark, comment on 14:3).

After pouring such a large amount out on Jesus’ feet, instead of grabbing a towel to wipe his feet clean, she undoes her hair and wipes Jesus’ feet clean. Women never undid their hair in the presence of men—only in the presence of their husband. It was considered unbecoming, scandalous, even—prostitutes were the only women who walked around with unbound hair. A woman’s hair was the glory of her feminine beauty (see 1 Cor 11:15). And here she takes that beauty, and wipes the dirty feet of Jesus.

Surely, as the disciples (not just Judas, see Matt 26:8; Mark 14:4) react negatively to this act, they are uncomfortable not only with the extravagant waste but would have felt uncomfortable at the intimacy and unbecoming nature of such an act. What is Mary doing? Much like her sacrifice of the perfume, her use of her hair comes from being so singularly taken by the preciousness of Jesus, that what other people think falls to the wayside.

She continues to use the best she has to serve Jesus; a towel is not good enough. She takes the best that she has (the expensive ointment, her hair) and brings it to the lowliest part of Jesus (His feet). Paul can say that foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of this world (1 Cor 1:25), maybe we could say that the feet of Jesus are more precious than the most valuable assets we have.

It was impractical

Perhaps, the most glaring element of what Mary did was just how impractical, how foolish, how wasteful it was. If Mary wanted to offer the ointment to Jesus, couldn’t she have just handed Him the bottle? Or sold it and given the money to Jesus to support His ministry since Jesus depended on the gifts of others (see Luke 8:1-3)? Mary’s devotion is child like. She has had this ointment for who knows how long, unsure of what it would be used for, and now she just knows: I want to use it to express my love for Jesus. It is impractical. Which brings us to what Judas Did.

What Judas Did

But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” - John 12:4-5

While John zeroes in on Judas as leading the charge, the gospels of Mark and Matthew include all of the disciples in being outraged at what has just been done (see Mark 14:3-8, Matt 26:6-11). In both Mark and Matthew, the disciples look at what Mary does and say, “Why this waste?” Those words just had to be a sword thrust through Mary’s heart…and through Jesus’. Mary, who is in awe and transported worship, is thrust back down to earth: You’re being stupid Mary, grow up Mary, you are not thinking Mary, do you have any idea what you just wasted MARY? And Jesus hears what His disciples estimate His worth at. He isn’t worthy of something as costly as this. That’s the heart of the disciples, imprisoned to the practical. But John wants you to see that the heart that looks on the act of Mary with a scrutinizing “dollars and sense” approach, is the heart of a traitor to Jesus, not a disciple.

My desire is to be like Mary. My fear is that there is much in me like Judas. Mary’s response to Jesus seems extreme. Judas’ seems rational. Mary’s seems unsustainable. Judas’ seems realistic. Mary’s feels foolish. Judas’ feels wise, practical, even righteous: Don’t you realize how much good we could have done with that money? Think of all the poor we could have helped!

Now, we know that Judas’ real motives was not a love of the poor. He was a “thief” John tells us, taking money out of the money bag for himself. Jesus warned of “thieves” who look like shepherds back in John 10, but are really just there to fleece the flock (John 10:7-13). Judas is the perfect example of that thief who has come to steal, kill, and destroy. And last week, I tried to warn you to be on guard against the subtle ways sin tries to lead you to follow Judas example of small compromises leading to larger ones. Judas starts with taking money out of the moneybag, and eventually he is selling his Lord for thirty pieces of silver.

But today, I want to draw your attention specifically to Judas’ relationship to money. In a way, this whole story is about worship. In another way, it is all about money. Money, of course, is just a representation of value. You like money because it can get you what you value, and where your treasure is, there your heart is. And for Mary, she values Jesus most. So she wants to use it to express that value. Judas (and the other disciples) do not value Jesus in the same way. While only Judas is the one so ensnared by his love of money that he betrays Jesus, he is warning to any and all of what the love of money does to you.

There are many ways the love of money can manifest itself: reckless, indulgent spending; ballooning credit card debt; foolish “get rich quick” schemes that drain your bank account; or the Scrooge McDuck kind of uber-wealthy, fat cat who hoards their billions. But Judas’ example here shows us another danger.

There is a kind of financial responsibility that looks like wisdom and good sense, but cloaks a Judas-like heart. The love of money might look like American middle-class. It might look like working hard to pay off your mortgage early, maxing out your 401K contributions, building up a big emergency savings account, saving for your kids’ college, your next family vacation, the kitchen remodel, and a new car, and never thinking about what all of that says about what you worship. Those are not bad things. Those are all good things—just like helping the poor are good things!—the whole point of this story isn’t that Mary is doing a good thing, but Judas suggests that they should do a bad thing.

The point of the story is that lurking in the heart of Judas’ practical wisdom—maybe even in a way he isn’t consciously aware of—there are evil intentions. There is a lust for money, for more, for new, for comfort, for status, for security, for ease. A craving bellows at the bottom of Judas’ belly for more and it will never be satisfied and will never stop—he’ll become a murderer in the service of that ache. But, and this is critical, when that appetite growls below, it comes out as…a reasonable, plausible, wise, and godly sounding perspective.

The point of this story isn’t that caring for the poor or being practical or wise are bad things; the point of the story is that in comparison to Jesus everything is secondary!

8 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ. - Phil 3:8-9

When I survey, the Wondrous Cross On which the prince of glory died My richest gain I count as loss and pour contempt on all my pride

Money is for something. For Judas, money was for himself. For Mary, it was for worship. But Judas manages to make Mary’s use of money for worship look irresponsible. But being frugal is not an unqualified good. In the story, Judas is the frugal one. Our money is to be saved and spent and used on what matters.

As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. 18 They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, 19 thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life. - 1 Tim 6:17-19

Our church doesn’t pass around an offering plate, because we don’t want to confuse anyone into thinking that they need to pay money to come to church. But the risk we run in not making that a part of our liturgy (as most churches do) is that we may fail to see that what we use our money on is a part of our worship. We can begin to assume that what we do with our budget isn’t spiritual. [Remember David: I will not give an offering that costs me nothing]

So here is a heart check for you:

When was the last time your money was used to express the surpassing worth of Jesus? When was the last time you gave your money, your possessions, not because it made good sense or was a good tax write off, but just because you had an opportunity to say…

Were the whole realm of nature mine That were an offering far too small Love so amazing, so divine Demands my soul, my life, my all

What Jesus Did

He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of my burial. 8 For the poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me.” - John 12:6-8

There is much we could reflect on here in John’s comment about Judas’ real motives. But for now, I want to focus on Jesus’ response to Judas. Isn’t it odd that Jesus doesn’t expose Judas’ real motives. He does not say: Judas, I know that you are thief and that you do not care about the poor. He could have. But He chose to respond to the external meaning of the words…why? Jesus wanted to show that even if Judas was sincere in his care for the poor, what Mary did was right, or to use the language of Matthew and Mark, what she did was “beautiful” (Mark 14:6, Matt 26:10).

Jesus’ words are not intended to minimize the concern for the poor. Deuteronomy 15:11 commands God’s people to care for the poor in their midst. Paul tells us he was eager to care for the poor (Gal 2:10). Jesus cared for the poor, the church is to care for the poor. Jesus’ words here are not meant to displace our works of charity and social concern—but they are to relativize them. They are to elevate the importance and beauty and worth of Jesus above all other things, even good things.

I love church architecture—old church architecture. Stone cathedrals, stained glass windows, vaulted ceilings—all of it. Our church stands in a modern tradition of evangelicalism which has put less emphasis on the beauty of a building. Our primary emphasis has changed to being functional. Which makes a lot of sense; you do not have to be in a cathedral to worship. Many churches around the world meet in basements and storefronts and living rooms. And many (most?) beautiful church buildings around the world do not preach the gospel. And we can think of church’s who have been negligent in how much money they have spent on a building that could have been better used.

For instance, I am reading a biography of Martin Luther right now, and the spark that really ignites Luther’s 95 theses, which triggers the Protestant Reformation, is the preaching of a man named John Tetzel, who is selling indulgences for Rome. He is claiming that if you buy one of these indulgences, a person’s prison sentence in purgatory can be reduced. And what is Tetzel trying to raise money for? The construction of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. One of the largest, grandest, and most opulent church buildings in the world. It took 120 years to build and utilized some of the most brilliant minds and artists the Renaissance ever created.

And last year, I was able to visit it. And I knew what funded the construction. I knew the twisted theology and fleecing of God’s people. But even still…it was awe-inspiring. Pillars of marble like Redwood trees line the vaulted sanctuary, statues, mosaics, paintings, the work of the most talented artists the world has ever seen…all there to communicate to you one thing: God is incomparably great. This space is unlike any other space to communicate to you that God is unlike anything else. He is transcendant, He is glorious, He is beautiful, He is mighty, He is good, He is true.

Was the means that was used to build this church wrong? Of course. Does the beauty of this building make it a true church? Absolutely not.

But here is what was going through my mind as I walked through it: If this is what mankind can build, even mixed with much error and flaws, what will heaven be like? If mankind has the capacity to build something like this, why wouldn’t we build it? Why do we spend billions of dollars on stadiums to worship sports and concerts, but the thought of building something exclusively for the glory and grandeur of God feels excessive?

Why was the Temple ornate and beautiful?

Why was incense burned?

Why did God ordain that Mary would have this exorbitantly expensive ointment to anoint Jesus with?

Does God need all of that? Of course not. We do.

What is beauty for?

Mary has done something extravagant, exorbitant, lavish, over-the-top, impractical…and it was exactly the right thing to do. Six days later, Mary will likely still be able to smell the ointment that had soaked into her hair as she stares at Jesus on the cross. She will remember Jesus’ words: I am the resurrection and the life.