The Scent of SCANDAL: When Faith Offends Predictable Piety
Before the cross. Before the trial. Before the garden. There was a dinner party.
Jesus is reclining at the table in Bethany, surrounded by his closest friends. Lazarus—the one Jesus raised from the dead—is sitting next to him. Martha is serving (of course). And Mary, the quieter sister, slips into the room carrying something expensive. Not a casserole. Not a Passover gift. A jar of pure nard.
She kneels. Breaks it open. And pours it all out onto Jesus’ feet.
In an instant, the house is full of fragrance—sweet, earthy, overwhelming. It clings to everything. And just like that, the mood shifts.
Judas objects. Others are probably uncomfortable too—after all, the best way to complain is about church finances. It's too much. Wasteful. Impractical. Indecent.
But Jesus sees it for what it is: love.
Extravagance That Offends
Mary’s act is more than emotional; it’s theological. In a world that keeps love safe, measured, and appropriate, Mary’s love is wildly improper. She touches a rabbi. She pours out a year's wages. She wipes his feet with her hair. She ignores social norms, financial logic, and religious protocol.
And Judas can’t take it. He masks his discomfort in righteousness—“That money could have gone to the poor!”—but Jesus sees through it.
Let’s be honest: it wasn’t just Judas. The whole room probably flinched. A little too intimate. A little too physical. And once Mary left the room?
Cue the rumormongering. Because nothing travels faster through a faith community than unapproved devotion.
Rumormongering (n.):
The spiritual gift no one wants to admit they have. The sacred art of whispering judgment disguised as concern. Often practiced by those who claim they’d never waste perfume... but love to spill tea…
Preparing for Burial
Mary is the first to anoint Jesus—not a priest, not a prophet, not Peter.
She prepares him for burial before anyone admits that death is coming. Before the men are ready to see it.
She recognizes what the others deny: that love will cost Jesus everything. And she responds not with theology or strategy or lament, but with devotion. Silent, scented devotion.
When Was the Last Time You Loved Like That?
When was the last time your faith made people whisper?
We live in a world that praises moderation. But the Gospel calls us to pour it out.
To give away forgiveness, time, attention, affection, and yes, even money, in ways that might look reckless from the outside.
What might it look like for you to anoint Christ this Passiontide?
Maybe it means forgiving someone who hasn’t apologized.
Maybe it means loving your queer child without theological disclaimers.
Maybe it means letting grief be loud, public, unfiltered.
Maybe it means giving to a cause without demanding proof it’s "worth it."
The Fragrance Remains
Mary doesn’t say a word. But for days, everyone in that house would smell like her offering. The scent would linger on Jesus’ skin—even as he carried the cross.
That’s what love does. It leaves a mark. It disrupts the air.
And when it’s done in Christ, it prepares the world for resurrection.
Written by: Fr. Rian Adams