He was ready for whatever came, but he felt a deepening sense of gloom. Since his decision to turn from the life of a Zealot, Simeon had found something he had not even realized he was missing. He was at peace. He had a wife he loved more intensely and deeply than he had ever thought possible. His family stood around him in full and loving support. Soon, the Lord permitting, he and Miriam would have a child of their own. He would be a father. Life was good, and it saddened him to think how easily it could all be lost. Yehuda was a grim reminder of that possibility.
He looked around and noticed that Peter also stood by himself. He too seemed deep in thought. Perhaps his mind was also assessing the potential for this day. Simeon straightened and moved over to stand beside his longtime friend and associate. Peter grinned. “Too much thinking time for men like you and me, right?” he said.
Simeon nodded. “Way too much.” He turned and looked to where Jesus still sat in a circle of men. “But he doesn’t seemed concerned,” he noted.
“No,” Peter said thoughtfully. “He’s not concerned. It’s more that . . .” He shook his head as he blew out his breath. “I don’t know. He’s been more pensive, more withdrawn. More . . .” He stopped. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Is he still talking about his death?”
Peter’s head came around, and he gazed into Simeon’s eyes. Finally, he nodded. “It happened again last night.”
“What did he say?”
Peter turned so his back was to Jesus and lowered his voice. “We had supper here in Bethany with a man named Simon. He was one of the lepers Jesus cleansed some time ago. Martha, Mary, and Lazarus were with us. There were just a few of us and our wives—plus Mary Magdalene, and, of course, his mother. The conversation was relaxed and pleasant. And then . . .”
“What?”
“After supper we were still reclining around the table, just talking. You know how it is after a big meal. Then Mary, Martha’s sister, got up and left the table. I thought she was going to clear away the dishes, which seemed odd, since we weren’t at her home, but I didn’t pay much attention. A few moments later, she came back. In her hands, she carried an alabaster box.” Peter held out his hands to indicate the size of the container. “It was very beautiful. She must have brought it with her when we came.”
“What was in it?”
Peter seemed not to have heard. “At that, all conversation stopped, and we turned to see what she was doing. She drew a jar from the box, took the lid off the jar, and instantly the odor of spikenard filled the room.”
“Spikenard?” Simeon echoed.
“Yes, there must have been a pound of it.”
Simeon whistled softly. Spikenard, as the Greeks called it, or nard in Hebrew, was one of the most expensive of perfumes. Like balsam, frankincense, and myrrh, the other costly aromatics, spikenard was not something that would commonly be found around the house. Not unless that person was very rich. Mary and Martha and Lazarus were prosperous, but they certainly were not wealthy.
“To our complete amazement, Mary came and kneeled down beside Jesus. Since we were still reclining around the table, his feet were extended outward, toward the room. Jesus sat up, but otherwise he didn’t move.”
Peter was quiet for several moments, and it was obvious that he was moved by the memories in his mind. Finally, he looked at Simeon. “She poured the ointment into her hands and then began to rub it very slowly and very gently on his feet.”
Simeon’s eyebrows lifted.
Peter nodded. “It was a most solemn moment. She anointed every part of both of his feet. She never spoke a word, just looked up at Jesus from time to time with those large eyes of hers. They were filled with love and sorrow and joy, all at the same time. When she was done, she bent down and wiped his feet with her hair.” Peter’s eyes were suddenly shining in the morning light. “It’s probably the most sacred act of pure devotion I have ever witnessed. I shall never forget it.”
“What did Jesus say?” Simeon was a little puzzled. This was very unusual.
That brought Peter back from his emotions. “Well, we were all dumbfounded, shocked even. Philip looked at me and I at him. Thomas was staring. We all were, I guess. And then Judas broke the spell. He was the first to speak. To everyone’s surprise, he was upset.”
“Upset? About what?”
“As you may know, Judas has been appointed among us as keeper of the bag. Of course, sometimes we have more than enough for our needs. Other times, especially when we are in areas where the people haven’t heard of Jesus, things get pretty tight. If there is no money or food in the bag, we go hungry. And Judas is the one who is responsible for all of that.
“Anyway, you could see he was deeply shocked by what he thought was an incredible extravagance. He spoke to Mary, rather sharply, I’m afraid. ‘Why was not this ointment taken and sold?’ he demanded. ‘We could have received three hundred denarii for it. Then the money could have been given to the poor.’”
Peter looked down for a moment, lost in thought. “John doesn’t think Judas was worried about the poor at all. He thinks he just wanted that money to go into the bag. Think how that would make life easier for him. Three hundred denarii. That is no small amount.”
“So did Jesus say anything?” Simeon wondered.
“Yes, and that’s the answer to your original question. Mary was clearly hurt by what Judas said. But Jesus came to her defense immediately. It was a rather pointed rebuke. ‘Leave her alone, Judas,’ Jesus said. ‘Why do you trouble her? She has wrought a good work on me.’”
Peter’s mouth pulled down into a frown. “And then he said—” He took a deep breath. “He said, ‘She has come beforehand to anoint my body for the day of my burying.’”
“Oh, Peter, no,” Simeon breathed.
“That’s what he said, and with about the same gravity as I just said it.”
Simeon didn’t know how to respond.
“Then,” Peter went on, “Jesus said to all of us, ‘Wherever this gospel is preached throughout the whole world, the thing that Mary has done shall be spoken of as a memorial to her. The poor you have always with you, but you shall not always have me with you.’”
Peter sighed, and his voice was heavy with concern. “So there it was again—talk of burial, suggestions of coming tragedy. I’ll tell you, Simeon, for me it was a chilling moment. I can’t get it out of my mind.”
“Do you think he knows what’s going to happen?” Simeon asked, feeling a chill in his own soul. “Just like when he knew that Lazarus was dead?”
Peter shook his head. “It seems clear he does.”
They lapsed into silence, both retreating into their own thoughts. Twice, Simeon started to ask another question, but then thought better of it.
Two or three minutes later, as the two of them still stood quietly together, a cry from the women brought them both about. Miriam was staring at the gate to the courtyard. With another cry of pleasure, she started forward, moving swiftly.
Simeon and Peter were standing by the outer wall of the courtyard, down a few paces from the gate, and for a moment Simeon could not see what had drawn Miriam’s attention. Then, to his surprise, Livia stepped through the doorway. In a moment, she and Miriam were in each other’s arms.
Simeon looked at Peter, then moved toward them so he could hear what was going on.
V
“So,” Miriam asked carefully, “do you want to talk about it?”
Livia shook her head. They had moved away from the other women and were speaking quietly. “I just realized that it doesn’t matter if I’m troubled or not. I want to be with Jesus. I need to be with Jesus.”
“That’s good,” said a man’s voice. Both women turned as they realized Jesus had come up behind them. Livia’s face flamed scarlet almost instantly. “Shalom, Master,” she murmured.
“Shalom, Livia of Beth Neelah. I take it from Miriam’s reaction that your presence here is a surprise.”
Livia smiled wanly.
“Even to myself.”
“Welcome,” he said. “And are you well?” He didn’t have to explain his meaning. The roundness of Livia’s stomach could no longer be hidden.
“Yes, Lord.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “As well as can be expected.”
He nodded with understanding. “We were greatly saddened to learn of Yehuda’s death.” He paused for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. “I am the resurrection and the life, Livia. He who believes in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”
Livia stared, first at Jesus, then at Miriam. Those were the very words Jesus had used with Martha when she met them at the outskirts of Bethany a few days before. They were the same words Miriam had repeated to her following the raising of Lazarus.
Jesus leaned forward slightly. “Can you believe this, Livia, widow of Yehuda?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I—” She swallowed quickly. “I would like to believe it, Master,” was all she could say.
He searched her face for a long moment; then, seemingly satisfied, he smiled. He reached out and briefly touched her hand. “It pleases me that you would come at such a time as this. Thank you.”
Then, before she could respond, he looked around. When he saw Peter, he motioned to him. “It is time, Peter. Let us be on our way.”
Chapter Notes
Immediately following his account of the raising of Lazarus, John described the turmoil this miracle created in the Sanhedrin. When Caiaphas made his statement about its being expedient that one man should die to save the nation, he seemed to have been steeling the council to take drastic action. But John saw the statement as unknowingly prophetic on Caiaphas’s part (see John 11:50–51). Then John added two chilling insights into the heart of the council at that time: “From that day forth they took counsel together for to put him [Jesus] to death” (John 11:53). “The chief priests consulted that they might put Lazarus to death; because that by reason of him many of the Jews went away, and believed on Jesus” (John 12:10–11). The New Testament gives no additional information about whether or not the council took further action on this latter matter.
All four Gospels contain an account of a woman anointing Jesus (Matthew 26:7–13; Mark 14:3–9; Luke 7:37–50; John 12:1–8), and differences in the accounts may indicate that such an incident occurred on more than one occasion. Only John gives a name of the woman, indicating it was Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. Luke puts it early in his Gospel, but the other three have it in the last week of Christ’s life. It should be remembered, however, that the Gospel writers wrote their records to bear witness of Christ’s divine Sonship, not to catalog a precise chronological outline of his life.
Chapter 22
O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee.
—Zechariah 9:9
I
On the road from Bethany to Jerusalem 31 March, a.d. 33
They were passing the village of Bethphage, which was not far from the top of the Mount of Olives. Another quarter mile and they would crest the hill and be looking down on the city of Jerusalem from across the Kidron Valley. From there it would be downhill and give everyone a chance to rest their legs. Good. Simeon was working up a sweat, and his legs were starting to feel the long, steady climb.
“Simeon, hold up!”
Simeon looked back over his shoulder. To his surprise, he was ahead of the group by fifty paces or more. He stopped. Ephraim stood in front of the group and motioned for him to come back. Puzzled, Simeon turned and started back down the hill.
He had gone out ahead of everyone else for a reason. His years of being on the run from Roman patrols had prompted him to suggest to Peter that someone go before the main party to watch for any potential trouble—to be an advance scout. Nothing unusual had happened, but it was clear to Simeon that they weren’t going to enter Jerusalem quietly. Word was already racing out ahead of them. Jesus was coming! The man who had brought Lazarus from the tomb was here. Word of that incredible miracle had spread far and wide. People were streaming from their houses and fields to see for themselves the man who worked such wonders. Others, who somehow knew he was staying in Bethany, had gone out from Jerusalem and went running eagerly when they saw the oncoming company. Their numbers had already swelled to more than double what they had started with. And more were coming all the time. There was no question about it. Long before Jesus reached Jerusalem, Mordechai and Azariah and the Great Council would know that he was back.
“What’s the matter?” Simeon asked as he reached Ephraim.
His brother shrugged. Behind them, the whole group had stopped. Jesus was talking with Peter and James, with others of the Twelve standing close by listening. Peter seemed a little puzzled by what he was hearing, but finally nodded. Then he and James moved forward.
As Peter reached them, Simeon asked in a low voice. “What’s going on?”
Peter motioned for him and Ephraim to fall in with them. “We have to go to Bethphage.”
“Oh?” Simeon said. Bethphage was nearby, but to the right some distance from the main road.
James looked somewhat perplexed too. “He wants us to get a donkey.”
“For what?” Ephraim asked.
Peter shook his head. “He didn’t say. We were walking along, just talking, when Jesus suddenly stopped. Then he asked James and me to go over into Bethphage.” The fisherman’s frown deepened. “He says that as soon as we enter the village, we’ll find a donkey and her colt tied there. The colt will be an animal that no man has yet ridden. We are to loose the colt and bring it to Jesus.”
Simeon just looked at him. “He said all that?”
“Yes,” James said.
“But how could he know that?” Simeon started to say. Then he stopped. How did Jesus know there would be a coin in the mouth of a fish? How did he know Lazarus was dead when they were almost twenty miles away and had no word? How did he see into the hearts of men and women?
Ephraim, always of a more practical mind, had a different question. “You are just going to walk up and take someone’s animal?”
James nodded, as if grateful that someone else had seen this potential difficulty. “Jesus said that if anyone questions us about what we’re doing, we’re to say that the Lord has need of it.” His look made it clear he wasn’t sure that would make any difference.
“We’ll come with you,” Simeon suggested. Peter, still puzzled, only nodded.
They turned off the road and started up the narrow lane that led toward the village. Bethphage meant “house of figs,” and there was no question about where it had gotten its name. Large fig trees lined both sides of the road. It was yet too early in the spring for them to be in leaf—the fig tree was one of the last of the trees to come into full foliage—but it was obvious that in the summer this would be a very pleasant walk.
They rounded a bend in the path and saw a cluster of houses just ahead of them. Then James stopped. “There!” he said, pointing.
Sure enough, standing behind one of the first houses, tethered to a railing, were two donkeys. The one was a hand or two taller than the other and was a female. The smaller was a yearling, nearing its full height but not yet completely mature.
Peter looked at his fellow apostle. “So, do we just take it?”
James’s shoulders lifted and fell. “He told us what to say if anyone challenged us, so . . .” He shrugged again.
That was enough for Peter. Hesitating no longer, he strode to the two animals, reached over and untied the yearling, and started back toward the other three men. Simeon was looking around, a little nervous about simply walking off with someone’s animal.
They had barely started back down the path when a man’s voice yelled out. “Hey!”
They stopped and turned. A bearded man in a simple brown tunic was running toward them, waving his arms, coming from the house where they had just been. He looked more than a little angry. “What are you doing with my donkey?” he demanded.
Peter turned to
face him. The man stopped a few feet away, his body tensed, his jaw tight. “The Lord has need of him,” Peter said quietly.
The man didn’t move. He stared at Peter for a long moment. Then, to everyone’s amazement, his jaw relaxed and his head bobbed. “Oh,” he said, seeming surprised at himself. “All right.” He looked at them for another moment or two and then turned and started back for his house.
The four men looked at each other, hardly believing what had just happened. Then Peter gripped the tether and turned back around again. “Come. Jesus is waiting.”
II
To Simeon’s surprise, when they came in view of the road where Jesus was waiting, the size of the group had almost doubled again. It now numbered somewhere between three or four hundred people. Closest around Jesus were his trusted friends and loyal disciples, but streams of people were coming from every direction.
As the four men appeared with the young colt, Aaron and David went to join Simeon and Ephraim. Aaron sidled up to Simeon as Peter and James took the animal forward. “What happened?”
“It happened exactly as Jesus said it would,” Simeon said.
“But why does he need a donkey?” Aaron wanted to know.
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