The Anointing at Bethany
Matthew 26:6-13
6 Now while Jesus was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper,[a] 7 a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment, and she poured it on his head as he sat at the table. 8 But when the disciples saw it, they were angry and said, “Why this waste? 9 For this ointment could have been sold for a large sum and the money given to the poor.” 10 But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you trouble the woman? She has performed a good service for me. 11 For you always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me. 12 By pouring this ointment on my body she has prepared me for burial. 13 Truly I tell you, wherever this good news[b] is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.
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She is intriguing, this woman who comes to Jesus to pour ointment on his head. Not surprisingly, we know more about the ointment and the expensive jar she carries than we do about her. Who is she? What social status did she carry? How did she know Jesus?
Her actions alone define her, in contrast to the disciples who freely share their unsolicited critique of her behavior. We hear their voices loud and clear. Why don’t we hear hers? As potentially transgressive as this passage is, how far does it actually stray from the strictures of ancient honor-shame societies regarding women and our inferior status? Does Matthew mean for her to signify all women? And as such, must she remain unworthy of naming but still notable for her service to Jesus? More to the point of our reality in this moment, as women of faith, do we still remain unworthy and only notable for our service to Jesus?
The impact of her actions is unambiguous. She shocks and angers the disciples who erupt in self-righteous reproach. What a waste, they say, how inappropriate! Extravagant, woman-love of the holy does not fit into their model of discipleship, a fact they will amply prove in the coming days, while they betray, deny, and abandon Jesus to his execution. Jesus scolds them, as he often does, taking the opportunity to remind them that his death is near. She has performed an important service for him. He affirms to them that her action will guarantee her a place in the history of the good news. But he does not thank her. Does she not warrant his attention? And does extravagant woman-love still remain out of bounds for today’s church?
The scales of history are tipping in this moment of Matthew’s story. The slide begins with the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem and his take-no-prisoners takedown of the corrupt in the Temple to the most ignominious and cruel punishment the Romans can devise. Empire has ensured the utmost physical pain and spiritual shame for the accused. Empire does what it has always done and continues to do. No one will be allowed to offer comfort or even dress the corpse for burial. Do the disciples realize what is happening? Or do they still ride the high from the high of the crowds cleansing the Prophet’s way with palm fronds and shouted Hosannas? Do they even care to be curious about the significance of her anointing?
“She has prepared me for burial,” Jesus tells his followers. Hasn’t she also anointed him King of Heaven with the traditional ritual of pouring oil upon the would-be king’s head? His executioners will take every possible measure to reduce the status of Jesus, and with a single stroke, she elevates him to a status that cannot be removed. This anonymous, and unappreciated woman meets the moment with prophetic witness of the deeper truth to come. She knows, as Jesus does, as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King does in the final speech of his life, that God’s will comes first, regardless of the consequences.
Scholars tell us that most witnesses in that moment would agree. Selling the oil to give the money to the poor was the right thing to do in this ancient context. But it was not God’s will.
Womanist and food justice scholar, the Rev. Dr. Yvette Blair calls this a “pericope of liberation.” For Dr. Blair and others, the anonymous priestess and king-maker is liberated by her action and Jesus’ tacit acceptance of it.
I can’t help but wonder, however, if the one who is liberated isn’t Jesus himself. Of all the voices that hail his kingship in Jerusalem, she is the one who literally seals the deal. Bucking the strict prohibitions of Empire, she comforts and anoints him with a lavish and precious abundance of oil. He will lack nothing on his journey to the end of his life on earth. Not status, not love, not womanly care.
In the end, it is the cowardly and mediocre faith of the disciples that will prevail. The prophetic and priestly voices of women remain denied and repressed to this day. We remain relegated to the service functions of our Church. And we are rarely acknowledged or thanked, much less crowned and glorified unless we do it ourselves.
Is it time for women to accept that the human Jesus, as defiant as he is portrayed to be of gender boundaries, does not fully liberate us. As important as we are in his story, he does not bequeath his church to us. Nor do his male disciples. Power remains in their hands in the immediate aftermath of his death as it does today. I respectfully submit, that it is up to us.
May all women reclaim the power of the prophet and priestess of the Bethany anointing, especially those of us who live our love and our faith from the margins of earthly power. We do not have to wait for permission or fear the anger of the churchly status quo when we boldly and extravagantly anoint our own.
Blessed be.
