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Jesus was reminding them that he is the first of the poor, the poorest of the poor, because he represents all of them. It was also for the sake of the poor, the lonely, the marginalized and the victims of discrimination, that the Son of God accepted the woman’s gesture.
We’ve come to the final post in this short series (at least I think so as I’m writing this). In this post, I want to focus on the final phrase in the quotation from Pope Francis that we have been using as a starting point. In context, Pope Francis is commenting on Mary’s anointing of Jesus to prepare Him for His burial. You’ll remember that what she does is met with hostility from the disciples and Judas in particular. Jesus defends Mary’s actions saying she has done a good thing which will be remembered wherever the gospel is told.
The story itself is rich with layers of meaning and profundity. How did Mary know when everyone else was blind to the moment? How did she come to this idea? Did she even realize the extent of what she was doing?
Mary, Francis says, was standing in for all the poor, weak, lonely, and marginalized. She broke her most valuable thing and thus became poor at that moment. She anoints Jesus’ feet as a slave would their master and thus becomes weak. She stands alone in the crowd, lonely among Jesus’ closest followers. In that lonely place Mary is marginalized, scorned, and reprimanded by the group as a fool.
Mary then, as well as Jesus, takes on the place of the poor, lonely, sick, and marginalized. She comes in the lowest way, taking on the form of a slave, to offer her most precious gift.
Jesus’ response is even more astounding in light of Mary’s actions, for He accepts them. This scene rings of regal notes. Here is a king, the king, about to come into His glory and His kingdom and one of His royal subjects is showering Him with gifts, perfume, and anointing oil. And yet we know by this point in John’s Gospel that the kingdom of God is going to come via sacrificial death, His throne is not of seat of gold but a cross of splintered wood, and that His victory over the powers of evil will be won through His self-giving act of forgiveness and not through violence and conquest.
Mary’s anointing is both regal and mournful, kingly and sacrificial, fitting and foolish. She gives to a king but a king who will die a condemned criminal. She offers her best to the Messiah but one who will conquer by being conquered for the sake of the conquerors conquering Him.
Christ, the conquered conqueror, deems her sacrifice worthy not because it is fitting but because it is foolish. She anoints for death. She gives it to say goodbye. And precisely because she participates in the foolishness of the cross her gift is the most fitting of all. The death of her future, as this was likely her dowry, is right because it is a participation in the death of Christ who raises the dead, even her dead future.
Part of the good news is that we serve a God who doesn’t just give but receives. He receives all that we give Him. But His reception is not because He is greater, although He is, but because He is humble. Mary’s lonely, marginalized, gift is given to and received by the One who is the loneliest, most marginalized, and scorned. In the end, her participation in His life and offering of gifts was the Spirit’s response in her coming back to God in Christ. Said another way, her gift was divine reciprocity for what had already been given to her in Christ. She gave what was first given to her. She anointed with the perfume the first poured forth from Jesus.
This is one way in which Christ is all in all. He is gift, giver, and reciever. He is the first and the last, the alpha and omega, the beginning and end, and the One in whom all things, including our gifts to Him, have their being and exist.