Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’    John 12: 1-8

Arriving in Jerusalem at the end of a long journey in what turned out to be the final week of his life, Jesus escaped the crowds to relax with friends. Bethany, on the outskirts of Jerusalem, was where Lazarus, Martha and Mary lived. He was used to their hospitality, eating at their table, often bringing a crowd of friends with him too. This night, they did what friends do best: Lazarus sat with him at the table, Martha served up a great dinner, and Mary resumed her habit of sitting at his feet listening to him talk.

I like the emphasis here on what they did for Jesus. It’s easy to put the spotlight on what Jesus does for us, but this is another little glimpse into the way he lived out his life as a real human being. This time, though, there was an extra and unusual element in what Jesus received from his friends – for instead of just listening, Mary made an extraordinary gesture with a jar of perfume, something that was not only generous in the extreme, but full of symbolism.

Virtually every street market in England has a stall selling imitation perfumes. They look and smell like the real thing, but usually the smell doesn’t develop in the same way and doesn’t last so well.  It was the same in the ancient world: Nard was one of the most expensive perfumes available, and there were plenty of cheaper substitutes for it. Pliny the Elder wrote that nard-like perfumes were produced from no fewer than twelve different species of plant. Real nard, though, was made from the root of spikenard, a flowering plant that grows in the Himalayas, and was as expensive as it was rare. Nard was used in worship, being one of eleven ingredients that made the incense used in the Temple at Jerusalem and also in temple worship in ancient Egypt. There was great excitement when a jar of perfume was found, still intact, in the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Analysis showed that it was pure nard, confirming previous theories that it was used at royal burials. In some forms of traditional medicine, nard is used to treat emotional pain and deep seated grief; it’s also used in palliative care to ease the transition from life to death. Mary, then, anointed Jesus with the precious oil that was associated with grief and pain, with the ointment that ushers in the time of death. With nard she was anointing a king for his burial, and offering up worship to him as God.

More than anything else, though, what nard was famous for was its value. And Mary’s jar of pure nard wasn’t just a little jar, it was a whole pound of nard, more than half a kilo. Imagine the size of two packets of butter – that much of one of the most expensive perfumes available in its purest form. Whatever it symbolized in terms of worship and kingship, for Mary it represented her life’s savings, her dowry, her future, her pension, her prospects.

It’s interesting that Jesus simply let her carry on pouring it out on his feet. He didn’t stop her, he didn’t say, ‘It’s OK Mary, you don’t need to do that. I know you love me, but save some of this to look after your own interests.’ He just received her extravagant, completely over-the-top act of adoration. This tells us something about Jesus’ own needs. He knew events were coming to a head, he needed to be loved and cared for by his friends at this critical point in his life, and he allowed them to pour themselves out for him. If even Jesus needed that, how much do we need it? It’s something worth remembering when we’re tempted to be self-sufficient under stress.

Perhaps we should also bear in mind, though, that this act of Mary’s doesn’t represent a daily habit of worship. This was a once-in-a-lifetime act of generosity, something she’d never done before and would never be able to repeat. Perhaps she, too, sensed the enormity of what was to come and knew, deep down, that this was her last chance to express her love for Jesus. If we have something precious to give to God that represents all that we have, then we too need a sense of the right time to give it.

If we’re to give our lives in the service of God we do need to be willing to offer everything we have for him, but we need to choose our moment. You can only pour out your life’s resources so many times. We need to know and understand the value of what we have – not just our possessions, but our gifts and talents, our time, the welfare of our children and family, all that makes up our ‘fortune.’ We often hear gospel messages about being willing to give more, and about not hoarding up what we have, and these are good messages. Equally, though, if we constantly pour out all that we have without a thought for the timing or the effect, when we find ourselves at a moment of great significance there will be nothing left to give.

Adapted from Giving it Up: