The Gospel According to the Son

41

Concerned about where I could stay, my disciples chose the house of Simon the leper in Bethany. No one would think of searching there. Yet word of my presence soon went out. While we were at table, a woman came with an offering. It was an alabaster jar of spikenard, which she massaged into my hair. This spikenard was of great worth, as much as three hundred denarii, which is what a poor man earns by his labor over many a month, even a year.

But this spikenard had power over me. Its aroma entered my ears as well as my nose, and I heard the Song of Songs. First came the voice of the Bride. She said: "While the king sat at his table, my spikenard sent forth its fragrance."

Some of my disciples were indignant. One even said, "Why was this ointment not sold by our Master and the money given to the poor? This is waste!" It was Judas who spoke.

I looked at him with disfavor. And he was dark with anger and looked away. The woman who brought the gift was named Mary (the same as my mother, and Mary Magdalene, and the Mary who was Lazarus' sister), and, yes, another Mary whose name I would not forget, for she anointed my feet with the last of the spikenard and wiped my feet with her hair. Nor was I without a sentiment of peace as she gave this homage to my ankles and toes (as if blessing the miles we had walked). Verses came to me from the scroll of the Song of Songs: "Rise up, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over, flowers appear on the earth and the time for birds to sing has come." The house was filled with the sweet odor of the ointment.

Judas now asked: "Why was this pomade not sold?"

Others began to complain. They did not speak against me, but they did attack the woman's gift. I said, "Why trouble her? She has left her good work on me." And to Judas I said more: "The poor are with you always," I told him, "and whenever you can, you may do them good. But me you will not have always."

Now I was of two minds. The love that had come from this woman's hands had given me a moment of happiness; so at this instant I did not feel like a friend of the poor. Indeed, was I not poor myself? I was certainly living with all the shortness of breath that is one's first companion when there is fear of death. The perfume of the spikenard had been a balm to the loneliness in my belly.

So for the first time, I knew how the rich feel, could understand their need for display. To them, a lavish presentation of their worth was as valuable as their own blood. Thereby, I could also understand that their greed was a potion against foreboding. I had said it was easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, yet from the other side of my mouth, I had, if only for an instant, been scornful of the poor.

Did I speak with a forked tongue so that I might reach out to all? The perfume of the spikenard was in my nose, and I had an image of beautiful temples. They would be erected for me. I could see how I wanted to be all things to all men. Each could take from me a separate wisdom. Indeed, I thought: Many roads lead to the Lord.

But now I noticed that Judas had left. If he loved me, so did he also love me no longer. Even as he had warned me. And he had gone away into that same night where many now wandered back and forth on the road between Bethany and Jerusalem. And all were wondering about the changes to come.

Disciples came up and said that Judas was speaking ill of me on the street. I was ready to betray the poor, he had said. I was like the others. I had not remained true to my convictions. Yet I was obliged to forgive Judas. For, indeed, had I not scorned the poor? That was true even if I had said the words for one moment, only for one moment. But I had believed the words as I said them. The truth need last no longer than a shaft of lightning in order to be the mightiest truth of all.