What a waste

What a waste they said.

What a waste.

It was such a waste.

But what was I keeping it for?

It sat on one of my selves. Gathering dust and grime. Being kept for a special occasion.

But surely it just sitting there, not being used was a waste?

It was an expensive jar of perfume. If they were so concerned about the waste, why did they wait till it was used to suggest it should be sold and the money given to the poor.

So, only the wealthy are allowed good things, lovely items, a bit of beauty in their lives?

Is that it?

I wonder what their reaction would have been if I’d been a wealthy man who’d used expensive perfume to anoint Jesus?

Would that have been acceptable?

I don’t think it was the just expense of the perfume which bothered the disciples

it was I, a woman, was anointing Jesus’ head.

How could I do that? Anointing was the role of priests, and they were men.

Even the disciples, who I knew believed Jesus was the Messiah, God’s anointed, did not think they could do what I had done.

Anoint Jesus’ head

that is perhaps why they were so indignant at me.

I was stepping over the mark, doing something I wasn’t supposed to do.

I was no priest. I was nothing special.

But he was

he was so special, so important I knew this was what I was keeping the perfume for.

This was the special occasion

I needed to anoint Jesus

to show my love

to show I knew he was the messiah

to do something which had to be done before it was too late

before he went to his death

I needed to do something beautiful for him