Of Mary and Pete Hegseth

 

There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. (John 12:2-3)

‘Where are you?’ An inner voice says. ‘What do you see?’

With that, I am invited into my senses, freed from my busy mind’s need to make meaning of words.

The scene comes alive not only in sight but in the aromatic oil of anointing, a healing fragrance rising, floating, drifting across the room, filling my senses.

For a moment, I am there in the splendid silence as Mary rises and brushes back her hair, perfumed now with precious nard, having wiped Jesus’ feet.

More fragrant, still, is the loving reverence that moved her blessed act, throwing aside all utilitarian concerns about how much it cost and how it could have sold and the money give to the poor.

Moved to her knees, all that mattered was loving the Love that unleashed love’s gracious flow from the depth of her heart, a fountain of life to which she gave no resistance, allowing herself to be carried away, as totally given to God’s loving purpose as the soul whom she anointed.

We should all be so free, for she is a portrait of human fulfillment, love’s completion in a human soul at least for this one moment. Seeing her, I witness what my soul most wants and surely needs.

Tragically, I also feel the discordant debasement of Christian faith and witness among those, such as our nation’s chest-thumping Secretary of War, who invoke the name of Jesus to bless the ‘lethality’ of violence upon ‘those who deserve no mercy.’

How, I wonder, again and again. How can anyone employ the name of Jesus to bless the very opposite of that which Jesus sought to awaken in every human heart? And how can those who worship and believe Jesus is the merciful heart of God for all people not shout their objections to such obvious sacrilege, the desecration of the name of Jesus?

I have no convincing answer, only an invitation to watch Mary shake out her hair as the fragrance of love fills the air.

David L. Miller