Commentary - Mark 14:3-9

Bird's-eye view

This brief account in Mark's Gospel is a profound collision of two antithetical worldviews: the cold, calculating pragmatism of the disciples, and the lavish, heartfelt worship of a woman who understood the moment. As Jesus reclines at table in Bethany, just days before His crucifixion, a woman anoints His head with perfume of immense value. This act is not merely sentimental; it is a prophetic act of worship that acknowledges the identity and impending death of the King. The disciples, led by Judas as we learn from John's account, see only waste and offer a pious-sounding objection about caring for the poor. Jesus rebukes them, defending the woman's action as a "good work" and reframing it as a necessary preparation for His burial. He concludes with the stunning promise that her story will be told wherever the gospel is preached, forever linking true worship with the proclamation of His death and resurrection. This is not a story about waste; it is a story about worth. The woman saw the infinite worth of Christ, and her response was appropriately extravagant. The disciples, in that moment, saw only the denarii.

This passage serves as a critical hinge in the narrative. It stands in stark contrast to the plotting of the chief priests (Mark 14:1-2) and the betrayal of Judas that immediately follows (Mark 14:10-11). In the midst of hatred and treachery, we find this singular act of beautiful, sacrificial love. It is a lesson for the church in every age on the nature of true worship, which is never a calculated expense but always a lavish overflow of a heart captivated by the glory of Christ.

Outline

Context In Mark

This event occurs during the Passion Week, immediately following Jesus' Olivet Discourse and just two days before the Passover and His crucifixion. The atmosphere is thick with impending conflict. Mark has just informed us that the chief priests and scribes were actively seeking a way to arrest and kill Jesus by stealth (Mark 14:1-2). The anointing at Bethany, therefore, is an island of pure devotion in a sea of hostility. Its placement is deliberate. It is immediately followed by Judas Iscariot's decision to go to the chief priests and betray Jesus. The contrast could not be sharper: a woman gives a year's wages in an act of worship, while one of the twelve sells the Son of God for thirty pieces of silver. This story highlights the central theme of Mark's passion narrative: Jesus is the anointed King, the Christ, who must suffer and die. The woman, perhaps more than anyone else at that moment, grasps this reality and acts on it.

Key Issues

Worship or Waste?

The central conflict in this passage is the disciples' question: "Why this waste?" This is the question of the utilitarian. It is the question of the man with a ledger book in his soul. He sees an act of beauty, devotion, and sacrifice, and his first impulse is to calculate its monetary value and imagine how it could have been better spent. This is the spirit of a bean counter, not a worshiper. John's gospel tells us the ringleader of this complaint was Judas, who was a thief and held the moneybag (John 12:4-6). But Mark tells us that "some" were indignant, indicating the sentiment was more widespread. It was a plausible, reasonable, even spiritual-sounding objection. "Think of the poor!"

But Jesus demolishes this way of thinking. True worship is never waste. To pour out our best on the Son of God is the most reasonable, logical, and profitable thing we can ever do. The disciples saw a year's wages being "wasted." The woman saw the Lamb of God, who was worth everything she had and more. The disciples were thinking about the poor; the woman was thinking about the Christ. Jesus' response teaches us that our love for God must be primary, and our love for our neighbor, including the poor, flows from it. When we get that order wrong, our charity itself becomes a hollow, self-righteous thing. This woman's "waste" was true worship, and the disciples' "concern" was a cloak for a heart that had not yet grasped the supreme value of the one sitting in their midst.

Verse by Verse Commentary

3 And while He was in Bethany at the home of Simon the leper, and reclining at the table, there came a woman with an alabaster jar of perfume of very costly pure nard; and she broke the jar and poured it over His head.

The setting is a dinner, a place of fellowship and intimacy. Simon, likely healed of his leprosy by Jesus, is hosting Him. Into this scene comes a woman, John's gospel identifies her as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus (John 12:3). She carries an alabaster jar, a vessel of translucent stone, containing perfume of pure nard. This was not a diluted fragrance; it was the real thing, and Mark emphasizes it was very costly. Nard was imported from India, making it an extreme luxury. The woman doesn't just open the jar; she breaks it. This is an act of finality. The vessel is destroyed; the entire contents must be used. There is no saving some for later. This is an all-in act of worship. She then pours it over His head, an act of anointing. Kings and priests were anointed. This is an act of acknowledging Jesus' royal status, but as we will see, it is more than that. It is a beautiful, uncalculated, uninhibited act of love and adoration.

4-5 But some were indignantly remarking to one another, “Why has this perfume been wasted? For this perfume might have been sold for over three hundred denarii and given to the poor.” And they were scolding her.

The response from some of the disciples is immediate and harsh. The word is indignantly. They were genuinely angry. Their objection is framed in the language of fiscal responsibility and social justice. "Why this waste?" They had already done the math. Three hundred denarii was roughly a year's wages for a common laborer. Think of the good that money could do for the poor! Their logic is impeccable from a worldly standpoint. It is the kind of reasoning that sounds wise and prudent in a church finance committee meeting. But it is spiritually blind. They did not see a King being honored; they saw a commodity being squandered. And their indignation spills over into action: they were scolding her. They rebuked her for her worship. This is what happens when pragmatism trumps piety. The worshiper is always an offense to the utilitarian.

6 But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you bother her? She did a good work to Me.

Jesus intervenes immediately. His defense is threefold. First, a command: "Let her alone." He shields her from their criticism. He is her defender. Second, a counter-question: "Why do you bother her?" He turns the tables, putting the accusers on the defensive. Their "bother" was not righteous concern; it was harassment. Third, He redefines the act. They called it "waste." He calls it a good work. The Greek is kalon ergon, a beautiful or noble deed. It was not just good in a moral sense; it was beautiful. It was fitting. And notice the object of the work: "She did a good work to Me." Worship is directed at a person. Their proposed charity was an abstract good ("give to the poor"), but her worship was a concrete good rendered to the Son of God Himself.

7 For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have Me.

Jesus is not being dismissive of caring for the poor. He quotes Deuteronomy 15:11, affirming that ministry to the poor is a permanent obligation for God's people. His point is not about the importance of the poor, but about the uniqueness of the moment. There will be countless opportunities to serve the poor. But the opportunity to anoint the physical body of the Son of God before His death was a vanishingly small window. He was about to be taken from them. Jesus is forcing them to recognize the eschatological significance of His presence. He is the central reality of history, and there are moments when honoring Him directly must take precedence over all other duties, however important they may be.

8 She has done what she could; she anointed My body beforehand for the burial.

This is the heart of Jesus' commendation. "She has done what she could." This is not faint praise. It means she gave all that was in her power to give, according to the opportunity she was given. Then Jesus gives the ultimate interpretation of her act. Whether she fully understood it or not, her anointing was a prophetic preparation for His burial. In just a few days, His body would be broken, and there would be a rush to anoint Him properly after His death. But this woman, in an act of worshipful love, has already done it. She has performed the rites of burial on a living man, because that man was about to die for the sins of the world. She treated Him as the King He was, even as He was headed to the cross.

9 And truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what this woman did will also be spoken of in memory of her.”

This is one of the most remarkable promises Jesus ever made. He elevates this woman's private act of devotion into a permanent part of the gospel message. The gospel is the good news of Jesus' death, burial, and resurrection. And Jesus says that wherever that story is told, her story must be told alongside it. Why? Because her act is a perfect illustration of the gospel's proper response. The gospel demands more than intellectual assent. It demands a response of lavish, sacrificial, wholehearted worship. It demands that we see the infinite worth of Christ and give Him everything, without calculation or reservation. She is the first person to truly respond to the passion of Jesus, and so her memory is forever enshrined in the message of that passion.

Application

The lesson of Bethany is a perennial one for the church. We live in a pragmatic age, an age of efficiency and return on investment. The spirit of the disciples is alive and well, and it often masquerades as wisdom. We are constantly tempted to measure our spiritual lives with a calculator. We ask, "What is the most efficient way to evangelize? What is the most cost-effective way to run the church? How can we get the maximum impact for the minimum outlay?" These are not necessarily bad questions, unless they cause us to forget the one thing that matters more than anything else: the supreme worthiness of Jesus Christ.

This woman teaches us that true worship is gloriously inefficient. It is extravagant. It breaks the jar. It does not hold back. It is not concerned with the scolding voices of the pragmatists. It is concerned only with Christ. We must ask ourselves if we have this kind of love. Do we give Christ our best, or our leftovers? Is our worship a calculated duty, or a heartfelt outpouring? Do we break the jar for Him? This could be our time, our talent, our treasure. The specific application will differ for each of us, but the principle is the same. Christ is not worthy of our spare change; He is worthy of our all. He is worthy of the broken jar. And when we give it to Him, He does not call it waste. He calls it a beautiful thing, and promises that the fragrance of that worship will fill the whole house.