A Broken Jar of Perfume

It was around this point in Holy Week that Mary of Bethany anointed Jesus in a pretty scandalous episode of unveiled hair, foot rubbing, expensive perfume and angry disciples. There is a version of this story in Luke's gospel that has a slightly different take on things. 

In Luke, the anointing woman is unnamed, referred to only as a 'sinful woman'. It is Simon rather than Judas (in John's gospel) who is the chief complainer, and of course Jesus rebukes him too. 'Her sins ... are forgiven' he tells Simon 'because she loved much.' (King James version). 

In darker days, I took a lot of comfort from that story. It nourished me at a time when I felt very far away from God. Identifying thoroughly as a 'sinful woman' the passage gave me hope that I, too, was forgiven. That the Simon's of the world who would judge and cast me out were wrong. I even had a tattoo of a veiled woman on my upper left arm with the words 'Her sins are forgiven because she loved much' emblazoned underneath. Even today this Gospel story has the power to reduce me to tears of gratitude.

And yet. 

Years later, when I was planning my adult baptism, I intended to use this story as a Bible reading, but something about this didn't quite feel right. Knowing how beloved the tale of the anointing is to me, I couldn't work out why. 

Then I watched a talk by one of my favourite Christian speakers, Danielle Strickland. And I got it. She spoke about this passage and said something which immediately resonated with me. Simon, and the others who denounced her, looked at her with the eyes of society and said one word.

Sinner.

Jesus however looked at her with the eyes of God. And He said something very different.

He said, 'Disciple'.

I understood. I understood that while this part of the Gospel will undoubtedly always be very dear to me, it wasn't right for my baptism. Because baptism is about new life. Seeing through new eyes. To a certain extent I was still carrying internalised shame, still looking at myself as Simon would, still rebuking myself for my 'sins', all the while Jesus was inviting me into something entirely different.

While the finger-pointers of this world may prefer it, 'sinful' women don't stay on the floor for very long round Jesus, unless it's to sit at His feet in a posture of discipleship. Rather they are raised up and shown the way to freedom, just like the woman 'caught in adultery' who Jesus saved from death by stoning.

This is scandalous grace. This is grace on fire.Grace that ca never be earned but only gratefully received.

Instead, I had the Beatitudes read out at  my baptism. A declaration of what I consider to be the Christian manifesto. Of what new life can look like.

Of course, the anointing isn't just about one woman's redemption, but about the forthcoming Passion. Jesus knows she is anointing Him in preparation fr His burial. 

How did she know? How did this woman, apparently not very highly regarded even by the misogynistic standards of the day, grasp what the apostles were struggling to understand?

I believe it was for two reasons. One, she showed a devotion that had everything to do with instinct and nothing to do with logic. Two, it is often precisely when we are broken and on our knees that the blinkers of the world fall off and we are willing to let God in. While it is - thankfully - not a prerequisite, nevertheless there is often something about intense vulnerability that can make us more spiritually receptive than when we are standing proud, That allows us, however momentarily, to see ourselves through the eyes of God.

And suddenly everything looks different.

Sinners become disciples.

Death becomes resurrection.

And a broken jar of perfume smells like grace.