Reading
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. “But not during the festival,” they said, “or the people may riot.” 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. Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly. “Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over.
Mark 14:1-11 (NIV)
Reflection
This story in Mark shows us two very different hearts standing side by side. A nameless woman breaks an alabaster jar of costly perfume and pours it over Jesus’s head, giving up what was likely worth a year’s wages in one extravagant act of love. A few verses later, Judas negotiates a price to hand Jesus over—thirty pieces of silver, a sum that seems to be painfully small for what he is doing.
Both encounter Jesus, both “give” something, but their motives could not be more different. The woman gives to Jesus with no expectation of return, no promise that her life will suddenly get easier, no guarantee that her problems will disappear. Judas, on the other hand, uses Jesus as a means to get what he wants; his relationship with Christ is transactional, built on what Jesus can do for him. One offers sacrificial love, the other makes a calculated trade.
If we’re honest, many of us live closer to Judas than we’d like to admit. We may not betray Jesus for cash, but we can still treat him like a product: “Jesus, fix my career, my finances, my relationships—and then I’ll follow you.” When God doesn’t move the way we expect, disappointment creeps in, and we start to wonder if he’s “worth” the cost of our obedience. Meanwhile, the woman in Bethany shows us a different kind of faith: Jesus is worthy, even when life is still hard, even when all you can do is pour out what little you have left.
Today, consider this question: What’s your price? At what point do you start to pull back your devotion, your time, your generosity, because following Jesus no longer seems to “pay off” the way you hoped? Our invitation is to move from a self-centered view of Christ to wholehearted devotion—to love and serve Jesus not for what we can get, but simply because of who he is.
Prayer
Holy and Loving God, expose the parts of my heart that want to use you instead of love you. Teach me to trust your goodness even when my circumstances don’t change. Help me to offer you my time, my resources, my plans—not as a transaction, but as a gift of love. Make my life, like the woman’s offering, a beautiful thing to you. Amen.
