The Aroma of Life and Death Text: John 12:1-11
Introduction: Two Dinners, Two Kingdoms
We come in our study of John’s gospel to a dinner party. But this is no ordinary meal. This is a gathering dense with theological meaning, a moment where two kingdoms, two economies, and two ultimate loves collide in one room. The air in this house will be filled with a fragrance, and that fragrance will divide the world. To some, it will be the sweet aroma of life, of worship, of self-forgetful love. To others, it will be the stench of waste, of irrationality, of death.
The scene is Bethany, a town whose very name means "house of affliction," but which, through the power of Christ, has become a house of life. Lazarus, a walking, breathing miracle, is sitting at the table. He is Exhibit A of the central claim of the Christian faith: that Jesus Christ has conquered death. And because of this, Bethany has become a fault line, a place where the tectonic plates of Heaven and Hell grind against each other. In this one small house, we will see the worship that God loves, the hypocrisy that God hates, and the murderous envy that characterizes the world.
This passage is a diagnostic tool. It forces us to ask ourselves what we smell when we see true devotion to Jesus Christ. Do we smell the beautiful fragrance of worship, or do we, like Judas, start doing the math? Do we see a heart poured out in love, or do we see a balance sheet that doesn't add up? How you answer that question reveals everything about the kingdom to which you belong. John is showing us here, just six days before the Passover, that the central issue of the world is the worship of Jesus Christ. Everything else is a footnote.
The Text
Jesus, therefore, six days before the Passover, came to Bethany where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. So they made Him a supper there, and Martha was serving; and Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table with Him. Mary then took a litra of perfume of very costly pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of His disciples, who was going to betray Him, said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” Now he said this, not because he was concerned about the poor, but because he was a thief, and as he had the money box, he used to take from what was put into it. Therefore Jesus said, “Let her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of My burial. For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me.” Then the large crowd from the Jews learned that He was there. And they came, not because of Jesus only, but that they might also see Lazarus, whom He raised from the dead. But the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death also; because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and were believing in Jesus.
(John 12:1-11 LSB)
A House of Life (vv. 1-2)
We begin with the setting, which is everything.
"Jesus, therefore, six days before the Passover, came to Bethany where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. So they made Him a supper there, and Martha was serving; and Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table with Him." (John 12:1-2)
John sets the clock for us: six days before the Passover. The Lamb of God is making his way to Jerusalem to be sacrificed. But His path runs through Bethany, the home of his friends. And John reminds us immediately of the central fact about this place: this is "where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead." This is not incidental information. The presence of a resurrected man at the dinner table changes everything. It is a loud, defiant declaration against the kingdom of death. The supper they are having is a celebration of life, a feast in the face of the tomb.
We see the familiar characters. Martha was serving. This is her gift, her mode of worship. She is not rebuked for it here as she was earlier. There is a time for sitting and a time for serving, and both can be done in faith. And Lazarus was reclining at the table with Jesus. Imagine the conversations. Imagine the sheer, glorious oddity of it all. Here is a man who had been dead for four days, long enough for the stench of decay to set in, and now he is eating dinner. Lazarus is a walking sermon. His very presence testifies that Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life. He doesn't have to say a word; his breathing is an argument for the deity of Christ.
Extravagant Worship (v. 3)
Into this scene of life and fellowship, Mary brings her worship. And it is breathtaking.
"Mary then took a litra of perfume of very costly pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume." (John 12:3 LSB)
Mary's action is one of shocking, glorious extravagance. A "litra" is a Roman pound, about twelve ounces. The perfume is pure nard, an expensive aromatic oil imported from India. John tells us it was "very costly." Judas will shortly put a price tag on it: three hundred denarii. A denarius was a day's wage for a common laborer. So Mary is holding a year's salary in a jar. This was likely her dowry, her life savings, her entire future in a bottle.
And what does she do with it? She doesn't dab a little on His wrists. She pours it all out on His feet. This is an act of profound humility. She anoints His feet, the lowest, dustiest part of His body. Then she does something even more scandalous for a woman of that culture: she lets down her hair in public and wipes His feet with it. This is an act of utter self-abandonment. She is not calculating. She is not thinking about what people will say. She is overwhelmed with love for the one who raised her brother from the dead, and she is giving Him everything.
Notice the result: "the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume." True worship is never a private affair. It always has a public scent. When a believer offers their life, their resources, their future, their all to Jesus, it creates an atmosphere. It changes the room. It cannot be hidden. This is the aroma of Christ that Paul talks about in 2 Corinthians, an aroma of life to those who are being saved, and an aroma of death to those who are perishing. And we are about to see that principle on full display.
The Economics of Hypocrisy (vv. 4-6)
The sweet fragrance of worship immediately provokes the stench of hypocrisy. Judas speaks up.
"But Judas Iscariot, one of His disciples, who was going to betray Him, said, 'Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?' Now he said this, not because he was concerned about the poor, but because he was a thief, and as he had the money box, he used to take from what was put into it." (John 12:4-6 LSB)
Judas sees this beautiful act of worship and immediately translates it into cash. He is the first cost-accountant of the church. His objection sounds so pious, so reasonable, so concerned with social justice. "Think of the poor!" This is the language of the religious fraud in every generation. He cloaks his greed in the language of compassion. He weaponizes the poor to attack genuine worship.
This is a timeless tactic of the enemy. Whenever a church wants to build a beautiful sanctuary for the glory of God, someone will stand up and say, "Think of how many poor people we could feed with that money." Whenever a believer makes a significant, sacrificial gift to the kingdom, someone will cluck their tongue about what a "waste" it is. But this is the logic of Judas, not Jesus. It is a piety that has a spreadsheet for a heart.
John, writing with inspired hindsight, gives us the inside scoop. He pulls back the curtain on Judas's heart. His concern was not for the poor, but for the purse. He was a thief. He held the money box, and he had been skimming off the top. What he saw in Mary's act was not a waste of resources for the poor, but a waste of an opportunity for him to embezzle more. His feigned compassion was a cover for his corruption. This is a permanent warning to the church. The man who is most vocal about "social justice," but who has no room for costly, extravagant worship of Jesus Christ, is a man you should watch very, very carefully.
The Lord of All Priorities (vv. 7-8)
Jesus's response is swift and decisive. He defends Mary and, in doing so, teaches us a crucial lesson about priorities.
"Therefore Jesus said, 'Let her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of My burial. For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me.'" (John 12:7-8 LSB)
First, Jesus says, "Let her alone." He protects her from the cynical, sanctimonious criticism of the religious bean counter. He honors her love. He sees her heart. Then He re-frames her action. She was keeping this perfume for the day of His burial. Whether Mary fully understood the prophetic nature of her act, we don't know. But Jesus did. He knew He was days away from the cross, and this anointing was a preparation for His death. Mary's love-gift was a funeral rite for the King.
Then comes the famous line: "For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me." This is not, as some have twisted it, a dismissal of our obligation to the poor. Jesus is quoting Deuteronomy 15, which commands Israel to be open-handed toward their poor brothers. His point is not that we should ignore the poor, but that there is a right ordering of our loves and priorities. The immediate, physical presence of the Son of God is a unique, unrepeatable moment in history. Worship of Him takes precedence over everything. You cannot claim to love the poor, whom God made, if you do not first love the God who made the poor. All our service to others must flow from our worship of Him. To reverse the order is to fall into the trap of Judas, turning Christian charity into godless humanism.
The World's Response to Life (vv. 9-11)
"Then the large crowd from the Jews learned that He was there. And they came, not because of Jesus only, but that they might also see Lazarus, whom He raised from the dead. But the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death also; because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and were believing in Jesus." (John 12:9-11 LSB)
The fragrance of what is happening in Bethany spreads. A crowd gathers. They come to see Jesus, but also to see the main attraction, Lazarus, the man who came back. He is a celebrity, a living curiosity. And his testimony is potent. Because of him, many were abandoning the corrupt religious establishment and "were believing in Jesus."
And how do the chief priests, the guardians of Israel's faith, respond to this undeniable display of God's power? Do they repent? Do they investigate? No. Their response is pure, distilled evil. "They planned to put Lazarus to death also."
Think about the satanic logic of this. Their solution to the problem of a man raised from the dead is to kill him again. This is the wisdom of the world. This is the logic of fallen man. When confronted with a miracle that shatters their worldview and threatens their power, their only response is to try and stuff the evidence back in the tomb. They cannot refute the miracle, so they decide to murder the evidence. This reveals the heart of unbelief. It is not a lack of evidence. It is a hatred of the light. They loved their positions, their power, and their darkness more than they loved the God of life. And so, they plot to murder not only the Giver of Life, but the man who was living proof of His power.
Conclusion: Whose Logic Do You Follow?
So we are left with two responses to Jesus Christ, embodied in this house in Bethany. On the one hand, you have Mary. Her logic is the logic of love. Her brother was dead, and now he is alive. The only sane response is to give everything she has to the one who did it. Her worship is total, extravagant, and beautiful. It is the fragrance of life.
On the other hand, you have Judas and the chief priests. Their logic is the logic of the world. Judas sees worship and calculates the financial loss. The chief priests see new life and calculate how to kill it. Both are offended by the sheer reality of who Jesus is and what He has done. Theirs is the stench of death.
The question this passage leaves us with is simple. When the fragrance of true worship fills the room, what do you smell? When you are confronted with the reality of new life in Christ, a changed heart, a transformed sinner, what is your response? Do you rejoice and pour out your own life in gratitude? Or do you get out your calculator and start complaining about the cost? Do you see the glory of God, or do you see a threat to your own little kingdom?
Mary's worship prepared Jesus for His burial. But that burial was not the end. Because of that burial, and the resurrection that followed, we can now be like Lazarus. We can be brought from death to life. And the only proper response to that miracle is to live a life of Mary-like worship, holding nothing back, pouring out our all for Him, filling the world with the fragrance of the knowledge of Christ.