To say that the dinner was a grand occasion would be an understatement. Lazarus’ entire family and all of his friends were gathering to celebrate his escape from death. And word had gotten around quickly. Crowds had begun to gather, hoping for just a glimpse of the living man. The chief priests had learned about it, too, and simmered in resentment of Lazarus’ powerful testimony.
Despite all the attention, Lazarus was not the one being honored. The sweet fragrance of pure ointment turned everyone’s attention to Jesus. The woman who had once sat at his feet to hear him teach was kneeling again to anoint him and prepare him for burial. The one with power over death would soon submit to it and overcome the world.
This umatched sacrifice makes Lazaruses out of you and me. At the font, our flesh died, and Jesus has raised us into disciples who cannot help but testify about our escape from eternal death and offer our living praise to him.
Of course, this doesn’t sit well with those around us. Much of it is content to gather around Jesus and speculate about who he is – a novelty, a source of wealth, a threat to power, a rebel against the establishment – but they are far less willing to believe in the king who has defeated death. That would nullify their self-decreed authority to put the Savior of the world into a category that serves the darkened heart. They cannot part with their earthly power, so they resent the risen. They are driven to the grim conclusion that Jesus and his disciples must be destroyed.
Like Mary, however, we know better. Death has been conquered by our king. While we live, there is no earthly treasure to spare in honoring him, no time wasted in learning his Word, no vigor misspent in praise, no glory squandered in washing one another’s feet. And when the time comes, we will follow our king into death, where his great miracle will be repeated yet again, and we will rise to the kingdom he has prepared for us.