It started with a journal entry.... In spring of 2001 I had seen a painting at an art museum; I bought a postcard of the work, brought it home and composed the following in contemplation of the thoughts of the woman in the painting:
“Jesus, what a privilege it is to come near you. I can’t believe you allow me to touch you, to kneel before you, to wipe your feet with my hair. You are willing to risk your reputation for me—you know what they think of me; you know what they think of you for permitting this. I was afraid to come here tonight. When I came near to you and you didn’t reject me, I knew you were different. Part of me wanted to hide—but your love melted me and I found myself at your feet. Tears came…tears of joy that you received me; that my fears and expectations were unfounded; that I might actually be able to touch you, to please you, to worship you. I cried tears seeing that you were not like the other men who had used me and then despised me. I have not fooled you. I have not disguised myself. You see me, you see my sin and yet you receive me and offer forgiveness. Oh, that this moment could last an eternity!”
I wrote this looking at what has now become one of my favorite paintings in the entire world, and it can be found at the Columbia Museum of Art in South Carolina. The first time I saw it I liked it, but with return visits it has become increasingly meaningful to me. Now I can barely enter the room where it hangs without tears coming to my eyes. I have bought several boxes of cards at the museum gift shop in order to bring it home with me.
The painting is Christ at the Home of the Pharisee by Artus Wolffort (b 1581; d 1641). It depicts a scene from the Bible in which a woman is found kneeling at the feet of Jesus with a perfume filled cup nearby on the floor. We can hear the murmurings her presence is creating among the disciples and the Pharisee’s guests and feel the darts of disparagement shooting from the furrowed brow of Jesus’ host. Jesus allows his foot to be lifted (he even helps to hold it up) and permits it to be held in a loving embrace against the face of this unexpected visitor as his tender gaze rests on her. The worshipper’s eyes are closed; there is a blush on the cheeks of her pallid skin; but her grasp is unyielding. It looks as though she is spent and exhausted at the end of a journey and has no intention of letting others’ disapproval distract her in this moment of wonder: A sinful woman touches God. He raises his hand like a conductor, allowing a prolonged pause and permitting stares of condemnation for her sinfulness to be diverted toward Him; a foreshadowing of the cross.
Throughout history many artists have painted this historical event. This scene is interpreted in an almost identical way by Peter Paul Rubens in his painting Christ at Simon the Pharisee (this one is not at the Columbia museum) but personally I like Wolffort’s rendition better. I recently visited the Museum and Gallery at Bob Jones University in Greenville, SC and found that they also had an interpretation of this scene by yet another artist. The artists included items from their era that would not have been present at the time of Christ such as eyeglasses, certain tableware and fabrics. To some art connoisseurs these anachronisms could be seen as the primary value of these paintings. To a heart connoisseur the primary value is the capturing of an amazing love revelation—perhaps I should say revolution.
There are four instances in the Bible, one in each gospel, in which a woman approaches Jesus to pour perfume or nard on Him—all four are met with protests and objections by others—Jesus defends all four—all four occur during a dinner while reclined at a table. Two are reported to be held at the home of Simon the Leper (Matthew 26:6-13, Mark 14:1-9) where an anonymous woman pours nard on Jesus’ head instead of his feet; a third accounting is given by an unnamed host where Martha served, as was her custom, her brother Lazarus reclined-- only this time at the table instead of in the tomb, and their sister Mary, previously found at Jesus’ feet, once again made the “better” choice, and poured a pint of pure nard, worth a year’s wages, on Jesus’ feet. (John 12:1-8) These three accounts all occur in Bethany and are all set in the days leading up to Passover. Some believe they are all one in the same, each with different emphases reported. The 4th recounting is the only one said to have been held at a Pharisee’s house, ironically Jesus addresses him as “Simon” as well. The context of the retelling appears to be in the early part of Jesus’ ministry. This must be the account depicted in the Wolffort painting. It is found in Luke 7:36-50.
This is the only account which identifies the lady as a “woman who lived a sinful life in that town”. Some have held it was Mary Magdalene from whom seven demons were cast out: in fact Pope Gregory the Great declared this woman was indeed Mary Magdalene in 591 A.D., and so many artists name their renditions accordingly. Some scholars today question that interpretation. Most seem to agree that this woman was probably a prostitute. The painting depicts someone at Jesus’ left pointing out Jesus’ “apparent misjudgment”. In a beard and more common clothing, this man could easily represent Simon Peter who seemed to frequently be found impulsively trying to “correct” the Son of God. (Matthew 16:22, 26:33, John 13:8) The Pharisee across from Jesus is yielding his disapproval non-verbally with a troubled countenance. Luke wrote that the Pharisee said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.” Those protestors must not have been watching Jesus closely, for from the beginning he had been touching the sick and sinful and allowing them to touch him. But how did everyone know this “sinful” woman? One of the servants in the background has a striking resemblance to this woman in the painting. Could this be her son? Could his father be present at the table? Pharisees brought a sinful woman to Jesus in John 8, expecting him to condone the prescribed stoning. Jesus cleverly invited them to throw the first stone if they were without sin. Once again a Pharisee is pointing out a sinful woman and Jesus will respond with candor and a poignant story. He will remind the Pharisee that he also has sins to be forgiven and, though they may be fewer, this woman has matched her abundant sin with abundant love and subsequently Jesus declared to her: “Your sins are forgiven.”
The other three similar occasions in the Bible speak of the poured substance as very expensive perfume or nard; its pouring was identified as a waste and the protest was that it was worth a lot of money and could have been sold to help the poor. Once the protest was said to have come from the disciples and, in John, Judas Iscariot was named as the complainer. In the Matthew and Mark accounts this is named to be the very incident which seemed to push Judas over the edge to go and betray Jesus. The hooded and bearded man seated in the shadows seems to look out of the canvas toward us as his heart begins its journey toward the potter’s field. Since Luke left out the protest of expense in this event, it makes us wonder if the lack of protest due to expense might be because this woman’s offering was cheap perfume. Perhaps it was perfume that was necessary to her profession. Was it purchased with money earned by prostitution? Was this offering representative of her own decision to renounce her life of sin? Later in Luke Jesus will identify a widow’s offering of two copper coins as “more than all the others.” (Luke 21:3) Speaking of this perfume offering He said it demonstrated that, “She loved much.” (Italics mine) God’s economy is not of this world.
In the painting at the Columbia Museum of Art, Jesus is looking at the sinful woman. (In Rubens’ art Jesus is looking at the Pharisee; herein exists one of the reasons for my preference for Wolffort’s work.) Jesus saw people. He saw the poor widow. Jesus saw this sinful woman. He “turned toward the woman and said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman?’” Jesus brought a new respect to women who were allowed to travel about from town to town with him. (Luke 8:2) Perhaps this woman was to become one of his traveling companions. Jesus sees us all, he looks at us, he observes us, and he knows us.
Jesus also took this opportunity to critique the Pharisee’s hospitality. He didn’t give Jesus water to wash his feet, a kiss of greeting or oil for his head. These seemed to be expected as probable welcoming customs. The Pharisee may have shown his disrespect and feelings of superiority toward Jesus by not offering him the common courtesies. This woman, however, wet his feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. Later Jesus would demonstrate the washing of his disciples' feet and tell them to learn from this symbol and follow his example. Could this woman’s humbleness have given Jesus the idea for his demonstration? Servant leadership, humility, caring for one another—these are all characteristics of God’s Kingdom.
In 2008 the Columbia Museum of Art featured a temporary exhibition that included artifacts from the excavations of ancient Egypt. One case displayed what was found in a burial chamber of 2 or 3 A.D. It included a gold ring impressed with a woman pouring an offering, a liquid-looking offering, on an altar and in the same tomb was an alabaster jar that they say would have been filled with nard. Three of the biblical accounts, including the offering of the sinful woman, identified the container of perfume or nard as an alabaster one (including the one in Luke, though Wolffort chose to represent the jar with a gold cup in his painting). It is said that the perfume was typically buried with its owner and believed to help a person in the afterlife—to help rejuvenate a person after death. If that was the meaning to these women found at Jesus’ feet, we can see how they would perhaps think they no longer needed it and their act demonstrated a faith that Jesus indeed offered them eternal life and they believed that they no longer needed the “Botox” of the afterlife for their own burial. This could certainly be the case for the John account of Mary of Bethany who had not used her pint of pure nard for her brother Lazarus when he was entombed. She had just experienced firsthand Jesus’ claim: “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die” (John 11:25, 26). Or perhaps, as is suggested in the other two post-epiphany accounts, these women “caught on” before the male disciples and actually believed Jesus when he warned that he would soon die. They offered their cultural hope of the afterlife to him in their love, sacrifice and surrender to him. As Jesus said; it was done “to prepare for my burial” (Mark 14:8; John 12:7; Matthew 26:12).
One case on display in the museum contained three broken alabaster jars. I wondered if these were broken during excavation or if perhaps one of these women started a trend. The account in Mark says that the woman broke the alabaster jar to pour the perfume on Jesus. Some have suggested that the nard, since it was said in one account to be worth a year’s wages, could have been a savings account or a “hope chest” of sorts. Could its breaking and pouring out have represented a giving up of all treasures, hopes and dreams to Jesus? Could women have heard of Jesus’ pleasure with this offering? Jesus said that the woman at the home of the Pharisee’s act had demonstrated her great love for him; he praised her and blessed her saying, “Your faith has saved you: go in peace.” Certainly word spread and it appears that on one (or maybe two) other occasions, women in Bethany followed this sinful woman’s example. Jesus defended her/them and said she: “had done a beautiful thing”; “she did what she could”, and “what she had done would be told in memory of her wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world.” And further, “‘Leave her alone,’ Jesus replied. ‘It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial.’” (John 12:7) When the early Christian women heard of Jesus’ pleasure, did they also begin to offer their alabaster containers of nard as an act of worship to the Messiah?
Lord, when I fully see you and know you, I begin at your feet; for I know that it is even presumptuous to touch the feet of God. It is only because of your grace, your mercy, your amazing humility that you bowed down and washed your disciples’ feet and then washed our souls’ grimy edges and contours that now we can come boldly to your kingly throne.
Lord, may I do what I can. May I give you my perfume box—full—poured out—broken--lavished on you as you have lavished your love, forgiveness and care on me. My perfume is my love, my faith, my prayers, my songs and writings. and any service I do for you. Jesus, please accept my humble perfume. Let it bring a pleasing fragrance and offering before you: may it be a beautiful thing to you. It is imperfect. I am imperfect…sinful. But despite others’ judgments of my inadequacies, inabilities or incompetence, may I turn my back to staring eyes and fix myself at your feet in worship. May my life be an unreserved pouring out of my perfume on you. Please see me. Help me to be pure in my love. Help me to love much.
Amen
MY ALABASTER BOX
By Loretta Goddard
(based on Mark 14:1-9)
Before you here
I spill, I pour
My hope, my spoils
Want nothing more
Than to anoint
And let you know
I give my all...
Now, I let go.
Hold nothing back
The jar I break
Unreservedly
I give, you take;
And promptly come to my defense:
“Remember her
From this time hence.”
My alabaster
Hard and cold
Much like the tomb
That cannot hold
Sweet scent of grace
And life and love
Earth’s treasures dwarfed
By those above.
And now, I grieve
I’ll miss you so
But I am glad
You did not go
Before I had the
Time to yield
My hope chest—now,
My pledge is sealed.
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