The Aroma of True Worship: The Costly Perfume Text: Matthew 26:6-13
Introduction: Two Economies
We come now to a scene that is dense with meaning, a story that is far more than a simple account of a touching moment. What we have here, in the house of Simon the leper, is a collision of two entirely different worlds, two opposing economies, two irreconcilable definitions of value. On the one hand, we have the economy of heaven, which is an economy of glorious, profligate, unrestrained worship. On the other, we have the economy of this fallen world, which is an economy of grasping, calculating, pragmatic utilitarianism. One is the logic of love; the other is the logic of a ledger sheet. One culminates in the fragrance of life, and the other in the stench of betrayal.
Our modern world, and sadly much of the modern church, is run entirely on the principles of the second economy. We are obsessed with efficiency, with results, with what is practical, with what can be measured and managed. We want our worship to be respectable. We want our giving to be tax-deductible and sensible. We want our discipleship to be manageable, something that fits neatly into our schedules without disrupting our larger ambitions. We are, in short, the disciples in this story. We are indignant at waste. We are spiritual bean counters.
But this woman, whom John's gospel identifies as Mary of Bethany, comes to us as a rebuke from another world. She operates on a completely different set of principles. She understands something that the disciples, including the treasurer Judas, have utterly failed to grasp. She understands the infinite worth of the man reclining at the table. And because she has a true estimate of His worth, her response is appropriately extravagant. Her act is not calculated; it is worship. It is not sensible; it is love. And in this one act, she preaches a sermon that shames the disciples, exposes a traitor, honors the King, and fills the whole world with a fragrance that we can still smell today.
This passage forces us to ask a fundamental question: which economy are we living in? Do we serve a God who is worthy of "wasteful" devotion, or do we serve the god of pragmatism, whose priests are always asking, "To what purpose is this waste?"
The Text
Now when Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him with an alabaster jar of very costly perfume, and she poured it on His head as He reclined at the table. But when the disciples saw this, they were indignant, saying, “Why this waste? For this perfume might have been sold for a high price and the money given to the poor.” But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, “Why do you bother the woman? For she has done a good work to Me. For you always have the poor with you; but you do not always have Me. For when she poured this perfume on My body, she did it to prepare Me for burial. Truly I say to you, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her.”
(Matthew 26:6-13 LSB)
An Act of Reckless Love (v. 6-7)
The scene is set with a beautiful economy of words:
"Now when Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him with an alabaster jar of very costly perfume, and she poured it on His head as He reclined at the table." (Matthew 26:6-7)
We are in Bethany, a place of friendship for Jesus, the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, whom He had recently raised from the dead. The dinner is at the home of Simon the leper, a man who was likely healed by Jesus, for he would not be hosting a dinner party otherwise. This is a gathering of people who have been touched by the grace of God in a powerful way. It is a house full of trophies of grace.
Into this scene comes a woman. John tells us it is Mary, the sister of Lazarus. And she comes with a purpose. She carries an alabaster jar of very costly perfume. John's gospel tells us it was a pound of pure nard, worth about a year's wages for a common laborer. This was not a token gift. This was likely her dowry, her life savings, her entire future security in a jar. Alabaster is a soft stone, and these jars were often sealed, meaning the neck had to be broken to get the perfume out. This was a one-time act. There was no saving some for later. It was all or nothing.
And what does she do? She pours it on His head. In John's account, she also anoints His feet and wipes them with her hair. This is an act of utter, unreserved devotion. It is an act of worship that is both intimate and public. She is not thinking about the cost. She is not thinking about what others will say. She is thinking only of the one who is worthy. She has rightly appraised the value of Jesus Christ, and she is responding accordingly. This is not emotionalism; it is theology. Her actions are a direct consequence of her Christology. Because she knows who He is, she knows that no gift is too extravagant. Her love is not measured. It is not respectable. It is glorious, beautiful, and, to the world, utterly mad.
The Utilitarian Objection (v. 8-9)
The fragrance of this worship immediately collides with the stench of worldly pragmatism.
"But when the disciples saw this, they were indignant, saying, 'Why this waste? For this perfume might have been sold for a high price and the money given to the poor.'" (Matthew 26:8-9 LSB)
The disciples, all of them, were indignant. John's gospel singles out Judas Iscariot as the ringleader of this complaint, and tells us his motive was not compassion for the poor but rather that he was a thief who helped himself from the money bag. But Matthew makes it clear that the other disciples were right there with him. Judas provided the talking point, and the others, in their spiritual dullness, picked it up and ran with it.
Notice their language. "Why this waste?" This is the eternal question of the utilitarian. It is the question of the man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. To them, this act of worship was an economic inefficiency. They saw a valuable asset being liquidated with no tangible return on investment. Their minds immediately went to accounting, to budgets, to social programs. They had a "better" use for this money. Their piety was a cover for their materialism.
And is this not the spirit of our age? We are constantly told that the church must be practical. We are told that beautiful sanctuaries are a waste, that robust theological training is a waste, that anything that does not have a clear, measurable, "missional" outcome is a waste. We are told to sell the perfume and give it to the poor. And it sounds so pious, so compassionate. But at its root, it is a failure to recognize the supreme value of Jesus Christ. It is a mindset that sees God as a means to an end, the end being our social projects, rather than seeing Him as the end in Himself. The disciples thought the perfume was for the poor, with Jesus as the facilitator. Mary knew the perfume was for Jesus, period.
The Lord's Defense (v. 10-12)
Jesus, aware of their grumbling, rises to the woman's defense. He does not just defend her; He commends her. He re-frames the entire event.
"But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, 'Why do you bother the woman? For she has done a good work to Me. For you always have the poor with you; but you do not always have Me.'" (Matthew 26:10-11 LSB)
Jesus rebukes them sharply. "Why do you bother the woman?" He identifies their pious-sounding objection for what it is: harassment. They were troubling a true worshiper in the very act of worship. Then He makes a crucial distinction. She has done a "good work to Me." The disciples were thinking of good works done for others, which is a fine and necessary thing. But they had forgotten the category of good works done directly to God. Worship is the ultimate "good work" because its object is God Himself.
His statement about the poor is not a dismissal of our obligation to care for them. The Scriptures are abundantly clear on that point. Rather, it is a statement about priority and opportunity. The unique, unrepeatable opportunity of that moment was to minister to the incarnate Son of God in the last week of His earthly life. Mary seized the moment. The disciples, busy with their hypothetical budgets, missed it entirely. They were worried about a perpetual need, the poor, and in so doing, they were blind to the singular glory standing in their midst. True worship understands timing. It understands that the highest priority is always God Himself.
Then Jesus gives her act its ultimate meaning:
"For when she poured this perfume on My body, she did it to prepare Me for burial." (Matthew 26:12 LSB)
Whether Mary fully understood the prophetic nature of her act, we cannot be certain. But Jesus did. He receives her act of love and consecrates it as a prophetic anointing for His death. The disciples had heard Jesus predict His death multiple times, and they had refused to understand it. They were still dreaming of an earthly kingdom. Mary, who had sat at His feet and listened, seems to have understood more than all of them. Her love prepared her to hear what their ambition deafened them to. And so, in this act of worship, she participated in the gospel itself. She was anointing the Lamb of God for the slaughter. This was not waste; this was preparation for the central event in human history.
The Unforgettable Memorial (v. 13)
Jesus concludes with a stunning commendation, one of the most remarkable promises made to any individual in the Gospels.
"Truly I say to you, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her." (Matthew 26:13 LSB)
Think of this. Jesus links her personal act of devotion directly to the proclamation of the gospel. The story of His death, burial, and resurrection is incomplete without the story of this woman's "wasteful" love. Why? Because her act embodies the proper response to the gospel. The gospel is the news of God's extravagant, costly love for us. He did not hold back; He gave His only Son. The proper response to such a gift is not a carefully calculated, minimal obedience. It is a joyful, unreserved, "wasteful" pouring out of our own lives in return.
This woman gets it. She understands that the gospel is not about balancing our spiritual checkbook. It is about being overwhelmed by the worth of Christ and giving everything, holding nothing back. The disciples wanted to serve God with their spreadsheets. Mary served Him with her soul. And Jesus promises that her story will be told forever as the gold standard of true devotion. While the names of mighty kings and emperors are forgotten, this woman's simple, costly act of love is remembered for all time.
Conclusion: Breaking Our Alabaster Jars
The story leaves us with a choice. Every one of us has an alabaster jar. It is that thing we value most, that thing we hold onto for our security. It might be our money, our reputation, our career, our ambitions, our time, our comfort. And Jesus is in the room. The question is, what will we do with our jar?
The spirit of the disciples, the spirit of Judas, is still very much with us. It whispers, "Be reasonable. Don't go overboard. Think of the utility. Why this waste?" It is the spirit of cheap grace, of a discipleship that costs nothing. It wants to manage God, to fit Him into our plans, to use Him for our projects.
But the spirit of Mary of Bethany calls us to a different way. It calls us to break the jar. It calls us to a costly, extravagant, all-in devotion to Jesus Christ. It calls us to stop calculating and start worshiping. It is the recognition that He is not a line item in our budget; He is the Lord of heaven and earth, and He is worthy of everything we have and everything we are.
The fragrance of Mary's perfume filled the house that day, and it was the aroma of life to those who believed and the stench of death to the one who would betray. In the same way, the gospel of this extravagant love goes out into the world. To those who are perishing, it is foolishness, it is waste. But to us who are being saved, it is the power and wisdom of God. May God give us the grace to follow this woman's example, to break our own jars at the feet of Jesus, and to fill the house of God with the unmistakable aroma of true worship.