1. What is the significance of the time of these events?
Note: Some background about the Passover: “Then Moses summoned all the elders of Israel and said to them, ‘Go at once and select the animals for your families and slaughter the Passover lamb. Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it into the blood in the basin and put some of the of the blood on the top and on both sides of the door frame. Not one of you shall go out of the door of his house till morning. When the LORD goes through the land to strike down the Egyptians, he will see the blood on the top and sides of the door frame and will pass over that doorway, and he will not permit the destroyer to enter your houses and strike you down. Obey these instructions as a lasting ordinance for you and your descendants.’” (Exod 12:21-24 NIV)
2. How does Jesus respond to people’s outrage?
3. Why is the woman’s symbolic act significant for Jesus’ ministry? (v. 8)
4. What is the promise made to this woman? How is it fulfilled?
5. Where is the hypocrisy of Judas seen?
6. When does the last supper occur and what is the significance of this? (v. 12; cf. Exod 12:21-24 above)
7. How does Jesus reinterpret the Passover meal?
(a) The bread (v. 22)
(b) The cup (v. 24)
8. What is Jesus’ looking forward to?
Stop and thank God that Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.
The time something happens matters. Timing matters. It is the difference between a glorious cover drive and nick to first slip. It is the difference between a glorious tee sheet, where the tee spins backwards and the golf ball flies straight and true, or you top the ball and dribbles off into the rough. Apparently, cars can have wrong timing. I don’t pretend to understand it, but mechanics speak of timing in motors. Whether a joke is hilarious or in bad taste is a matter of timing—its called comedic timing. There is a time to laugh, and a time to cry.
To understand our passage, the time these events are happening is very important. The time or season colours the meaning of the events. Verse 1:
Now the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were only two days away (NIV)
We are given a similar marker in verse 12.
On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when it was customary to sacrifice the Passover Lamb (NIV)
These notices are Mark’s way of telling us that we are in holiday season. The ‘sale’ signs are up in the shops—“Two days to go before Passover, and all the shops shut. Get your bitter herbs, your eggs, your Lebanese bread before the last minute rush.” If we think the situation is something like the last days of ‘Christmas shopping’, we are probably not too far away from the truth of the situation.
The particular feast the disciples are preparing for is that of the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread. The Passover celebration was a perpetual reminder of the exodus, when God brought the people of Israel out of Egypt through a fierce divine judgement on the Egyptians.
Basically, the feast involved a re-enactment of the Israelites’ last night in Egypt (Exod 12). They gathered together as family groups. They chose a year old lamb, the best one they had, the breeding quality lamb without defect. And then they killed the lamb with a knife, and then roasted it. And then they put the blood on the sides and top of the doorframes. They ate it with their car keys in the hands, their handbag on their shoulders, and their coats on, so to speak. They ate fast, like an all boy family. They ate big, because they couldn’t keep any over night, and they burnt the rest. For that night they would leave forever.
And when Yahweh, the God of Israel, saw the blood on the doorposts, he passed over that household, but wherever there was no blood of the lamb protecting the household—the homes of the Egyptians—he killed the firstborn son. In every Egyptian household, there was the dead body of a beloved eldest son and brother. But the firstborn son of Israel was passed over.
This is what the people of Israel celebrated each Passover. This is what Jesus celebrated—that God brought salvation to Israel through his judgement on Egypt.
So at this time, Mark wants us to know that everyone in Israel was busy getting ready for the holiday, working out which lamb to slaughter. And likewise, the chief priests are busy thinking about slaughtering also, verse 1 again:
[…] and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were looking for some sly way to arrest Jesus and kill him. (NIV)
But they want to do it after the feast, not out of respect for the feast but because “the people may riot.”
Here again, we see another one of Mark’s sandwiches—a literary device where Mark puts a story within another story. He starts one story, then he tells another story, then he finishes the first one, so that one story bookends another.
Verses 1-2 reveal the chief priests’ plot to kill Jesus. That’s the first bit of bread. And verses 10-11 reveal that Judas, one of the twelve, has joined this plot. That’s the second bit of bread. Verse 10:
Then Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. (NIV)
The religious leadership wanted a sly way to kill Jesus, and with Judas they’ve got one on a silver platter.
That is the bread of this sandwich—the plot to kill Jesus, conceived by the chief priests, and enabled by Judas, an insider.
And we know that the filling flavours the sandwich. What is that filling? Well, that is verses 3 to 9, this story of a woman who owned a jar of perfume—nameless but famous.[1]
Jesus is reclining to eat at Simon the Leper's house. Again, here is Jesus breaking the social taboos. It was unclean to eat with lepers. No doubt, Simon was no longer a leper. That’s what happened to people who met Jesus—he touches the unclean and makes them clean.
And then, in she walks. Again, here’s another social faux pas. For in that culture, it was a breach of etiquette for her to disrupt male fellowship. We know nothing about her—not her name, not her past, not even her future—except one thing: she owned something of value, a bottle of perfume, probably a family heirloom. Mark records for us that “it was very expensive, made of pure nard” (v. 3). In verse 5, we read it was worth more than a years wages. Perhaps it was worth $100,000 in our money. That’s some ‘Channel No 9’!
And as Jesus reclines at table with Simon the former Leper, she “pours the perfume on his head” (v. 4). In seeming reckless abandon, she “breaks the jar”. No way back once you do that. She is going to blow the whole lot at once. She isn’t giving Jesus just a little bit, but the whole bottle.
Most people think giving a little bit to Jesus is good enough. A little religion is good—it keeps the kids out of too much trouble, keeps our boys on the right track: a little bit on Sunday, a little bit when it’s convenient, a little bit to get me through the day—but not too much. Don’t take Jesus too seriously. Don’t get carried away. Don’t be extravagant. Don’t actually believe what you believe.
A little religion is what sends many people to hell! It is the inoculation that insures that they don’t need to pay Jesus a second glance. “Oh yes, I learnt all about that at Sunday school. I’ve read the bible, you know. I know the right names to mention, I know the vocabulary to drop. And I know all about church too—but no thank you to you and your Jesus.”
But this woman shows us what it is to be a real disciple. Here is real discipleship, like that of the poor widow in the temple—reckless, extravagant, expensive, shocking.
Some of the dinner party were scandalized. Usually the offended dinner guests are Pharisees. But this time the offended ones are the disciples. Matthew tells us this (Matt 26:6). And they give reasons for their offence. Verses 4-5:
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. (NIV)
You know how we need to characterize what we’ve just seen? It is waste! This is not a gift. This is waste.
Ask my kids if there is something that gets me angry, it is waste: an abandoned apple with one bite, found in the bin; food taken or asked for and left uneaten. It drives me to harsh rebukes. And I find myself saying the things my father said to me, “You’d eat it if you were in Biafra.” I still don’t know where Biafra is.
In verse 5, the disciples rebuke her harshly. They literally, ‘snort’ at the woman, flaring their nostrils in anger. And the implication, their implicit message, is, “Don’t you care about the poor? We care about the poor. Why don’t you?”
But in doing so, notice what the disciples are saying: “Why waste your good perfume on Jesus?” In other words, you don’t waste good things on Jesus. Expending your best on Jesus is ‘waste’. Why give Jesus your best in life? Why give him your best years? What has Jesus ever done for you?
We know that for one disciple, this protest was a mask for greed. For John tells us that Judas used to steal from the common purse.
But it may be that the other disciples had a legitimate ‘concern for the poor’. Jesus is not against the poor. Indeed, we read in verse 7, “The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want.” We do need to hear the truth that we are rich as a nation. However, here is Jesus’ expectation: there will always be poor people amongst us. There will always be abandoned women with children, who get little or no help from the father. There will be widows and orphans. There will be some chronically ill, the maimed, with dependents. There will be genuine cases.
Yes, their suffering is alleviated in our society, with social security, and equal opportunity employment. But, yes, many are still poor, scratching out a living, not knowing how they will pay the bills, pay for the groceries, pay the school fees, fill the car. And Jesus says to us, “The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want.”
But Jesus turns his attention back to the woman. Verse 8: “She did what she could”, literally, that which she has she did.
Remember the poor unnamed widow in the temple. She gave what she could: two small copper coins, which was her whole life. It would be like taking one and two cent pieces to the shops: they don’t accept them anymore. No one accepts them. But Jesus doesn’t laugh. It is not the amount that matters, but the sacrifice. She put in “her whole life”, for her whole life given to God.
Now this woman who has gatecrashed Simon the former Leper has an heirloom. And she too did what she could. It was hers to give, and she gave it, willingly, joyfully, to Jesus. Friends, that is the nature of giving. Friends the widow in the temple and this woman gave the same amount: everything, their whole lives, everything they had. And friends whether we only have two copper coins to rub together, or $100,000 worth of perfume, we can give the same thing. May Jesus say the same blessed words to us: “That which we had, we did.”
And so today as we remember this woman, nameless but famous, we fulfill Jesus’ words. Here in this place, the gospel is preached, and here in this place, we remember her, the nameless but famous woman. We speak of her act of service to the Lord Jesus, and lest we forget.
But here also we see the uniqueness of Jesus, and the uniqueness of this time. For it is the Wednesday before Good Friday. And so Jesus utters the pregnant words at the end of verse 7, “But you will not always have me.” Here are disturbing words, for Jesus has come to Jerusalem to die. And so he gives the event of his anointing an interpretation, verse 8, “She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial.”
For as much as we remember the woman, this story is about Jesus. So we can identify our sandwich as a ‘Jesus’ death’ sandwich, and between two slices of the chief priests’ murderous intrigue, with chunky grains of betrayal by Judas, and full of sly deceit, we also have the filling, flavouring it—the extravagant, self-sacrificial work of a nameless but famous woman, who had Jesus for only a short time, and could do this one thing, so she prepared Jesus’ body for his burial.
At holiday time, however, the disciples are occupied with other preparations. They’ve left it to the day of the feast to prepare for it. They ask, of course, about the necessary preparations, but Jesus has everything well in hand, for Jesus is the one in control. The chief priests and Judas may plot against him but Jesus is sovereign. And when the Lord has need of it, the things he made satisfy the need (cf. Mark 11:3). The one who made the universe has no trouble organizing a dinner, even the one on the night before he died.
So, just as they did when they borrowed the colt on the day they entered the city, so now, Jesus predicts what the forward party will see, and tells them what they must do. And the two disciples find everything in the upper room just as Jesus said it would be. And they prepare the feast.
In verses 17 to 26, Mark takes us into the upper room on this night. Jesus has undoubtedly celebrated many Passovers in Jerusalem, but this one will be different to all the others. For on this night, Jesus will change the meaning and significance of this meal, this celebration, forever.
Jesus first reveals that his betrayer is among them. Yes, Jesus has known Judas’ heart, while he was at Simon the Leper’s house, as much as now. No matter what Judas have connived, according to his own greed and vain imaginings, no matter what, indeed, even the Devil has provoked Judas to do, none of it takes Jesus by surprise.
The events do, however, surprise the disciples. We read in verse 18, “they were saddened.” And so one after the other protest with their question, “surely not I?” But there is one, and he is close, double dipping with the rest of them.
Treachery is always surprising. That is why being betrayed is so awful. It comes from the one you least expect. “But I trusted you, and you betrayed me.”
But here it is not the fact of the surprise that makes it so terrible. For Judas hasn’t taken Jesus by surprise at all. In fact, the writing’s been on the wall for a long time. Verse 21, “The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him.” In Psalm 41:9, the Messiah, King David, writes, “Even my close friend, whom I trusted, he who shared my bread, has lifted up his heel against me.”
No, it is not the act of betrayal, but who Judas has betrayed, that is so awful. Verse 21 again, “But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man. It would be better for him if he had not been born.” Judas is betraying the Son of Man, the one who Daniel says, will receive from the Ancient of Days all glory and honour and sovereign power, whom all peoples and tongues will worship, and whose kingdom will last forever. What utter folly to betray the Son of Man, Jesus. What foolishness to sell the Saviour.
One of the saddest things in the Christian life is to see people walk away from Jesus Christ and from the apostles and the church gathered around Jesus, the only place where the real Jesus is to be found. That is, it is sad to see people walking away from the Christ, his bible, and his church.
Judas is a terrible warning to us. Judas could hardly be closer to Jesus. Yet, it was he who deliberately, calculatingly, goes off into the darkness to sell Jesus and betray him. Judas is the pattern for all who turn away from Christ after once following. The author to the Hebrews puts such treachery this way.
If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God. (Heb 10:26-7 NIV)
There is the reason for Jesus’ terrible woe: “It would be better for him if he had not been born.” We should say with the other disciples, “Surely not I, Lord? Surely not I!” Lord Jesus Christ, and Father, spare each of us here from such things.
And even if there is only one traitor, still the other eleven will all fall away. We read in Verse 27 Jesus’ words, “You will all fall away”. For the other disciples, it will not be a final fall. Peter will fall further than the rest, but he will also rise again. John will once again see his Lord. And Thomas will put his finger in Jesus’ side. But for Judas, his apostasy is complete. When he leaves that room that night (John 13:30), his break with Jesus is final.
So the spotless Passover lamb has been chosen, and preparations are well under way for it’s slaughter. And that lamb is Jesus.
And so Jesus now goes about re-interpreting the Passover feast. Jesus breaks the bread, because the bread would probably have been baked hard and brittle, but interprets the act in terms of himself: “This is my body.”
His body is about to be broken. On the cross he will die.
But he wants his disciples to see that it is for them that he dies. So he “gave it” to his disciples, and he says “take it”. Take it, it is for you. My body is about to be broken for you. My flesh I am about to give for the life of the world. Take my death into yourself. Feed on me in your hearts by faith with thanksgiving, just as your body feeds on this bread.
What we see here in the last supper is redemption acted out. Dare I say it, it is a sacrament, a symbol, a ritual, a dramatic visual aid using the human senses, that points to a bigger reality that is about to happen. Jesus will die, so that his disciples will live. The broken bread is (meaning ‘represents’) his body. And eating it represents trusting in his death.
Likewise, Jesus reinterprets 1400 hundred years of bible teaching in his treatment of the cup. Verse 24, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.” Blood here connotes the idea of sacrificial death. And Jesus speaks of his own blood. The idea of “the blood of the covenant” is first found in the book of Exodus (Exod 24:6-9). At the foot of Mount Sinai, after God gave Moses the 10 commandments and the other laws establishing the covenant, then Moses slaughtered bulls and sprinkled the blood on the people. The sprinkled blood confirmed and ratified the covenant.
But now Jesus says, “This is my blood of the covenant.” It is, as Luke says, “a new Covenant”. We have a new testament, which speaks a better word than the old to us, which is a new covenant, ratified in the blood of Jesus Christ poured out for many.
In other words, the death of Jesus brings about a new covenant for us. He is the suffering servant, who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). His blood is poured out for many. Meaning just this: “We all like sheep have gone astray, each one of us has turned to his own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” (Isa 53:4-6).
And as Jesus looked around the table at his last supper, and then as he passed the wine around, and as Judas drank as he prepared to betray him, and the rest who were also about to fall away, leaving him utterly alone, we see this: Christ died for sinners. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Let’s pray.
[1] We need not consider this event to be the same one as that described in John 12:1-8, featuring Mary Magdalene. John 12 narrates an event occurring six days before the Passover, and Mary is the hostess, if not the homeowner. Also, the emphasis in John’s account is not on the anointing of the head, but on the feet. One can understand why Jesus would patiently have given the same response to his disciples, and Judas (and the other disciples) would be even more angry at a repeat performance only four or so days later. Luke’s account of an anointing is at a different phase in Jesus’ ministry, is in Simon the Pharisee’s house, is probably in Galilee, and the anointing is on the feet with tears, with perfume and kisses added. Matthew’s account seems to be of the same event as this one recorded by Mark. Thus, I conclude that there were three separate anointings: one by the sinful woman at Simon the Pharisee’s house (Luke 7:36-50): one by Mary Magdalene six days before the Passover in Bethany (John 12:1-8); and one by another nameless woman in Bethany at Simon the Leper’s house (Matt 26:6-16; Mark 14:3-9).
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