John 12:1-11

TEXT fragrant memories On occasions where I am going to be away from home for a few days I have a practice some might call odd. After packing for the trip and just before loading the car I switch pillow cases with Brenda. The first few times I did this she didn't even know. Here's my thing. When I lay my head on my pillow at night, I want to smell her. If we are apart and I can't kiss her forehead or hear her breathing, I just want to smell her. I started this odd practice after reading a poem by a grieving husband about his fading memories of her. I don't mean to be depressing, but this is the only way I can understand what is happening here in John 12. As far as I can understand all of the gospel writers attest to the inability of the disciples to "get it" when Jesus predicts his imminent death. Mary seems to "get" that something dark and painful is coming. Our English versions wrestle with how to interpret verse seven. The NASB translates Jesus's explanation of her action this way: so that she may keep it for the day of My burial. Keep what? She has poured out all the perfumed oil. I doubt she thought anointing him now would make up for not being able to anoint him before burial on Friday. John 19:38-42 This act makes sense to me if I understand that Mary, sensing terrible events looming on the immediate horizon, binds herself to Jesus with a fragrant act of devotion. In humble tenderness, she massages his weary feet with scented oil. Then with a bold intimacy that disquiets us, she wipes up the excess with her hair. I see her massaging that oil into her hair and scalp and then cupping handfuls of hair onto her face to breath in deeply the fragrant memory she wants to save of that moment. May such a memory be one of the things we can't leave behind.