Death Preparations (Mark #46)

Back in the fall of 1992 I transferred to a small Christian university, where on my second day I met an extremely outgoing girl from Kansas. She is now my wife — but at the moment it was not exactly love at first sight.

I do not think she was especially drawn to a short nerd, and I was a bit taken aback by the sheer extroversion radiating off this woman.

You have to understand: her freshman-year goal was to learn the name of every single person on campus. This was a school of about twelve hundred people, and she wanted to know all of them. So every time she saw someone new, she thought, I do not know this person and I need to.

So it was not exactly a romantic overture. She simply felt sorry for the transfer student with no friends and came and sat beside me in class.

And over the following weeks I began to realize what an incredible woman this was, and I developed some very fond feelings.

I mentioned to a couple of guys in my suite that I was thinking about asking her out, and they indicated fairly clearly that she was out of my league.

I ignored them.

The Coupon Book

I wanted to make my feelings known, so I decided to give her a gift.

Keep in mind I was a college sophomore with no money. So what does a broke hopeless romantic do?

He assembles a booklet of homemade coupons.

Yes. And I still have them — I scanned them in yesterday, which is genuinely embarrassing. All of them were redeemable at the nearest version of me. Things like I will take you on a walk. I will take you out to dinner — again, no money, so that meant fast food.

But it was my attempt to say: I would like to spend more time with you.

She has since told me that when she received them she was simultaneously excited and alarmed. Excited because it struck her as a sweet and thoughtful gesture. Alarmed because — oh no, he likes me. There was probably a small part of her wishing it had come from someone else.

But while she was uncertain what to think, I knew exactly what I was thinking. I liked this girl.

She was remarkably smart — she was there on a full academic scholarship. She was kind; I had watched how she treated all kinds of people on that campus. She was passionate about Jesus, and being around her was genuinely good for my faith. And I thought she was beautiful.

In short, I thought she was incredible. And because she was incredible, I wanted to give her my time, my attention, my energy, and whatever little money I had — as evidenced by an embarrassing coupon booklet.

You Know This Feeling

If you have ever been head over heels for someone, you know what I felt in December of 1992. You found someone you were willing to give all your time and attention and money to.

But even if you have never been in love like that — or infatuated, perhaps I should say — you probably understand a version of it.

Maybe you have been wild about a sports team. Maybe there is a new video game, or a genre of film, or a book series where the moment you hear about it you think, take my money. Maybe there is a hobby you think about constantly while you are at work or school, planning how much more time you can give it, because you want to pour everything into it.

Today we are going to be challenged to consider: what are you willing to give to God?

A Word About Guilt

I have heard a number of sermons on this idea — giving everything to God. And I will be honest: most of the time I have walked away from them feeling a great deal of guilt.

I do not believe God brought you here today, or had you log on, so you could receive a heaping pile of guilt.

Guilt is a terrible motivator. I could probably guilt you into giving more to God, and it would last about a week.

What I want is for God to do long-term change in your life. I want you giving embarrassing coupon booklets willingly and happily, because you are amazed at how incredible this God is.

So my hope is that you leave here inspired to want to give everything to God — because what I hope you see is that he has already given everything for you.

Where We Are in Mark

Open your Bible to Mark 14.

If you are a first-time guest: we have been in the book of Mark for two years. I checked this week — we started it on March 8th of 2020.

Before you panic thinking we study two verses at a time, we take breaks. Recently we did a four-week series on the Bible. Before that, twenty-one days of prayer. Before that, an Advent series at Christmas. We have not actually been in Mark since mid-November, when we finished chapter 13.

Which means we are ready for chapter 14 — and chapter 14 is where Mark makes a significant shift. From today until Easter we will be walking through the events of Holy Week every single week.

The Text: Mark 14:3–9

We are going to skip verses 1 and 2 today and come back to them in three weeks.

“And while he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he was reclining at table, a woman came with an alabaster flask of ointment of pure nard, very costly, and she broke the flask and poured it over his head. There were some who said to themselves indignantly, ‘Why was the ointment wasted like that? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor.’ And they scolded her.

But Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. Why do you trouble her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you want, you can do good for them. But you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for burial. And truly, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.’”

If you are new to this story — yes, that actually happened. A woman at a dinner party breaks open a bottle of perfume and pours it over a guest’s head.

Let us just acknowledge that this is bizarre. Imagine hosting a dinner party and one of your guests did that. You would not be thinking, what a beautiful gesture. You would be wondering if she had too much to drink. Or whether she sells essential oils. Or whether she is a stylist trying something new.

What is going on? Why would someone do this?

John Fills in the Details

This is almost certainly the same event John records in chapter 12, and John adds details Mark deliberately leaves out.

John tells us it was six days before Passover, in Bethany, where Lazarus lived — the man Jesus had raised from the dead. Martha was serving. Lazarus was reclining at the table. And it was Mary who took a pound of expensive ointment of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair, so the whole house was filled with the fragrance.

John also tells us who objected: Judas Iscariot — and adds that he said it not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief who kept the money bag and helped himself to what was in it.

Bethany was a small town about two miles outside Jerusalem — roughly a thirty-minute walk. And John’s note that this happened six days before Passover matters, because Jesus enters Jerusalem for his triumphal entry from Bethany. So this scene is taking place a day or so before what we remember as Palm Sunday.

The family we already know

John identifies the household: Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. We have met them before in his Gospel, though not in Mark.

Their most famous story is the one where Jesus is teaching, Martha is working frantically in the kitchen, and Mary is sitting at Jesus’ feet listening and learning like the other disciples — and Martha is deeply bothered by it.

The other famous story is Lazarus dying. Jesus does not arrive in time to heal him, and by the time he shows up the body is in the tomb. And Jesus calls Lazarus out, alive, four days after his death.

This scene is the third time we meet this family. Which means the woman Mark describes is almost certainly Mary.

Who was Simon the leper?

Mark does not name Mary, Martha, or Lazarus, but he does mention a man called Simon — identified as Simon the leper to distinguish him from other Simons in Scripture.

That does not mean he had leprosy at the time. If he had, Jewish law would have required him to live outside the community among other lepers.

This is the only place in Scripture we meet him — here and in Matthew. One commentary suggested he is the man Jesus healed back in Mark chapter 1. Another suggested he was the father of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, which would explain why Martha is serving, Lazarus is at the table, and Mary is doing the anointing.

Honestly, we do not know.

Just How Expensive Was This?

What is consistent across both accounts is the pouring of this ointment. Mark calls it pure nard.

Nard comes from the spikenard plant, which grows in northern India, Nepal, and China — part of the honeysuckle family. A single plant produces only a small amount of amber-colored ointment, so it takes a considerable number of plants to fill a jar.

It was highly valued. It was used as a perfume, as medicine, and in some religious ceremonies. And when you factor in that it had to be shipped from northern India, the transport cost alone drove the price up enormously. We think shipping is bad now.

Which is why someone objects in verses 4 and 5. Three hundred denarii.

A denarius was one day’s wages, typically represented by a single coin given to a common laborer for a full day’s work — enough to buy the bread and food to live another day.

When you hear “three hundred denarii,” you might do what I do and just think three hundred dollars. And you think, well, I would never spend three hundred dollars on perfume.

But that does not begin to capture it.

The ancient Jews worked six days a week, not five. So allowing for the weekly day off and a handful of sick days, they worked roughly three hundred days a year.

Which means this is a full year’s salary.

Let me put it in our terms. I asked someone who works in local construction what they would pay to hire someone with no experience. He texted back asking whether I was looking for a job and whether there was something he should know. Then he told me: roughly fifteen to twenty dollars an hour.

So let us say fifteen dollars an hour, an eight-hour day, and — in our imaginary scenario — no taxes. That is $120 a day, across 300 days: $36,000.

Now, some of you hear thirty-six thousand and think that is not bad. Others of you think, you cannot live on that — maybe a two-bedroom apartment and a twenty-year-old car, and it would take you fifty years to pay off your student loans.

But flip it around. What if you went up into the attic and found an antique, or inherited something from your grandmother, and took it to an appraiser — and the expert said, what a find; I would estimate this is worth thirty-six thousand dollars?

Suddenly thirty-six thousand sounds pretty good.

What could you do with an extra thirty-six thousand dollars? Pay off debt. Eliminate all of it. Upgrade a vehicle. Put it in retirement. Help a kid with college.

Many of you know we are attempting to buy this building and need to raise fifty thousand dollars. If thirty-six thousand landed in our lap, we would be two-thirds of the way there.

So you can understand why someone might say this was wasted.

And She Used All of It

But did she waste it?

Notice it came in an alabaster flask. Alabaster is a soft stone often used to make vessels, particularly for liquids — because stone is not porous, so it preserves contents well and keeps a strong fragrance sealed inside.

But these were not corked like a wine bottle or capped like a soda bottle. They were sealed completely. The only way to get the contents out was to break it. And once you broke it, that was it. You were going to use all of it.

And Mary did not take it around and share a little with everyone. She poured it on Jesus. She used the whole thing.

Feet or head?

John says she anointed his feet. Mark says she poured it on his head. Skeptics call this a contradiction. In reality it was almost certainly both — and each writer included the part that served the point he was making.

John highlights the feet, because all three times we meet Mary in his Gospel she is at Christ’s feet. The first time she is at his feet learning, like one of the disciples — women did not typically learn that way, and Jesus permits it. When Lazarus dies and Jesus arrives, she runs to him and falls at his feet — a place of humility and desperation. And now she anoints his feet and wipes them with her hair — a place of submission.

John wants us to see that humility in Mary, because it is the kind of humility we should have before God.

Mark highlights the head, and for good reason.

In Jewish culture, when a guest arrived at the home of a reasonably comfortable family, the host would greet them with a dab of oil. Not expensive nard — ordinary olive oil. It gave off a pleasant scent, and it was a gesture of blessing. The owner could easily have kept that oil for cooking or for its supposed medicinal value. Instead they gave it away, as if to say: I am so blessed by your presence that I would rather give this to you than keep it.

And here is Mary, not dabbing but pouring.

The Wrong Place to Ask the Question

This is typically the point in a sermon where a pastor says: if Mary was willing to break open this expensive perfume and pour it all out on Jesus, what are you willing to give?

We are going to ask that question. But I think this is the wrong place to ask it.

Because this is exactly why I used to walk out of sermons like this feeling guilty. I have not given enough. I have not poured out a thirty-six-thousand-dollar flask on God. I need to step up my game or God will not be happy with me.

If we ask the question here and try to answer it now, guilt is what you will get. You will feel like you do not measure up. You will feel like God is disappointed in you.

And as I said, I do not think God brought you here to feel guilty. I think God is genuinely thrilled with you.

So let us set that question aside for a moment, because there is something else in this story we need to see first.

Three Things Mary Was Unknowingly Doing

1. Preparing his body for burial

Jesus says it himself in verses 6 through 8: she has anointed my body beforehand for burial.

Jesus knows he is about to die. And in ancient Jewish practice, after someone died the family would anoint the body with oil and spices. It was a loving act — not embalming as the Egyptians practiced, but a way of offsetting the inevitable decay before the body was placed in the tomb.

If you know the crucifixion account, Jesus’ body is taken down and placed in a tomb without the spices and oils. Which is why on Easter morning you find a group of women heading to the tomb, hoping someone will be there to roll the stone away so they can go in and prepare the body properly. It could not be done that Friday.

And as you know, when they arrive there is no body to anoint.

It is almost as though God knew exactly what was coming and decided: we will still prepare the body — we will just do it a week early. And Mary will be the one.

She does not realize what she is doing. Jesus knows exactly what is happening.

2. Anointing Jesus as king

Throughout Mark’s Gospel he has been talking about the kingdom of God and wanting us to see Jesus as king.

And when a king assumed his throne, he was anointed with oil.

So I think Mary is unknowingly anointing Jesus as king. She simply thinks he is the Jewish Messiah. She thinks he is extraordinary. I do not think she grasps that he is not merely a king but the King of kings, the King of the universe. But God moves her to do this.

And I think that is precisely why Mark highlights the head rather than the feet — because he is the king.

3. Presenting the gospel

The gospel is this: Jesus Christ, the only sinless person who ever lived, came to earth to die for sinners. Our sin deserved death, and Jesus took that penalty for us.

Now look at what Mary does. She takes an incredibly precious alabaster flask, breaks it open, and pours out all of its costly contents.

That is exactly what Jesus did through the cross.

Jesus — the most precious one who ever lived, and who still lives — came to allow himself to be broken and entirely poured out for us. His blood. His energy. His life. So that we could be redeemed and brought back into relationship with the one true God.

I do not think she knew what she was doing. But she was unknowingly declaring what Jesus was about to do within the week.

Now We Can Ask the Question

And now, with Jesus in mind — the one who willingly allowed himself to be broken and poured out — we can ask it.

What are you willing to give?

Because the goal is not that you should give the way Mary gave. That is not what we are after here. What we are after is living like Jesus lived and loving like Jesus loved.

And when you see that Jesus gave everything for you, then you do not feel guilty. You do not feel manipulated. You do not feel like you are doing this out of obligation.

You want to give. Because you see how incredible he is. And suddenly you want to give him your time, your affections, your money — everything — because he gave everything for you.

Come to the Table

So as we move into communion, let that question keep echoing: what am I willing to give?

If Jesus was willing to give it all for you, is there something you have been holding back? Something you have been clenching your fist around, that God is asking you to release — not because he is guilting you into it, not because he is spiritually twisting your arm, but because he wants you to see how much he loves you and how incredible he is, so that you can give all of yourself to him?

Heavenly Father, as we come to these elements and look upon the one who went to the cross for us, speak to us. Help us begin to know what we need to give, and what you are calling us to give.

For the person who has not yet given their life to you — who has not yet become a follower of Jesus — lead them by your Holy Spirit to give themselves to you now.

And for those who have already made that confession of faith, who have confessed their sins and given themselves to you, keep opening their hearts and minds to see where they still need to give. Not out of guilt. Not out of pressure. But out of joy, out of abundance, out of trust, out of love.

So in these next holy moments, speak. Speak as we sing. Speak as we pray. Speak as we take the bread and the cup. Use these moments to help us become not more like Mary, but more like Jesus — so that you can do in us what you need to do, and then do through us what you want to do.

We now offer you ourselves. In Jesus’ precious name we pray, amen.

Let us do this now in remembrance of him.