nce of Christ's death. To this death He Himself freely alludes,
because He sees that things are now ripe for it, that nothing short of
His death will satisfy His enemies, while no further manifestation can
give Him a more abiding place in the love of His friends. The chill,
damp odour of the tomb first strikes upon the sense, mingling with and
absorbed in the perfume of Mary's ointment. If Jesus dies, He cannot be
forgotten. He is embalmed in the love of such disciples.

On His way to Jerusalem for the last time Jesus reached Bethany "six
days before the Passover"--that is to say, in all probability[1] on the
Friday evening previous to His death. It was natural that He should wish
to spend His last Sabbath in the congenial and strengthening society of
a family whose welcome and whose affection He could rely upon. In the
little town of Bethany He had become popular, and since the raising of
Lazarus He was regarded with marked veneration. Accordingly they made
Him a feast, which, as Mark informs us, was given in the house of Simon
the leper. Any gathering of His friends in Bethany must have been
incomplete without Lazarus and his sisters. Each is present, and each
contributes an appropriate addition to the feast. Martha serves;
Lazarus, mute as he is throughout the whole story, bears witness by his
presence as a living guest to the worthiness of Jesus; while Mary makes
the day memorable by a characteristic action. Coming in, apparently
after the guests had reclined at table, she broke an alabaster of very
costly spikenard[2] and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet
with her hair.

This token of affection took the company by surprise. Lazarus and his
sisters may have been in sufficiently good circumstances to admit of
their making a substantial acknowledgment of their indebtedness to
Jesus; and although this alabaster of ointment had cost as much as would
keep a labouring man's family for a year, this could not seem an
excessive return to make for service so valuable as Jesus had rendered.
It was the manner of the acknowledgment which took the company by
surprise. Jesus was a poor man, and His very appearance may have
suggested that there were other things He needed more urgently than
such a gift as this. Had the family provided a home for Him or given
Him the price of this ointment, no one would have uttered a remark. But
this was the kind of demonstration reserved for princes or persons of
great distinction; an