"Why was this oil not sold for three hundred days' wages
and given to the poor?"
He said this not because he cared about the poor
but because he was a thief and held the money bag
and used to steal the contributions.
We need to be careful lest we demonstrate the same duplicitous nature as Judas, who acted as though he cared for the poor in order to appear virtuous. When we are so fixated on practical matters and material gain the useless extravagance of love tends to offend us more than inspire us. The fragrance of love that fills the house, meant to inspire us, seems to choke us instead. Yet, to merely human ways of thinking, such acts of love as the anointing of the feet of Jesus do seem hugely impractical. We tend to see people who would go to such lengths as weak or as dominated by emotion rather than being ruled by rational logic. We might even expect Jesus to defend the point made by Judas, condescendingly explaining to Mary how the money could be put to better use. But he did the opposite:
So Jesus said, "Leave her alone.
Let her keep this for the day of my burial.
You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.
Somehow Mary's seemingly excessive display of love, when one considered whom it was that she anointed, and what he was about to do for her people, and for all of humanity, was the most appropriate act possible. Respecting the dead probably seemed rather negligible in the grand scheme of possible goods. Thus this pre-anointing in particular probably seemed insignificant. Yet it turned out that proper concern for the dead was the only attitude that was appropriately attuned to the eventual possibility of resurrection. It looked toward the final solution to the ultimate problem facing mankind. Sin and death also had symptoms, and it was appropriate to treat them. But treating the symptoms would never solve the underlying problem. Nor could any merely human effort. If one wanted to truly love one's neighbor she needed to prioritize her love for Jesus himself, since only by his death could the victory of life be realized.
Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil
made from genuine aromatic nard
and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair;
the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.
What seemed to be an utterly impotent act was revealed to be more significant than many eminently practical and functionally successful programs and policies. It didn't exactly do or accomplish anything. It was valuable in itself, for what it was: an outpouring of love. And yet it did have an effect after a fashion since "the house was filled with the fragrance". The fragrance was like that of a liturgical offering. But its pervasiveness was an invitation to all who were close to give themselves over more fully to the love of the one who inspired this love in one of his beloved.
Matt Maher - Your Love Is Extravagant
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