Scented oils and perfumes were used in ceremonies setting apart someone chosen by God, like a king or priest. Hebrew kings weren’t crowned at their coronations, but rather anointed with sacred oil that had been perfumed with costly spices. The scent would mark the person with a sort of invisible “crown,” and by this unique fragrance the person would be recognized as belonging to God in a special way. An example of an anointing ceremony takes place in 1 Kings 1:38-40 when Zadok the priest places Solomon on a mule and anoints him with fragrant oil from the temple, marking Solomon as King of Israel. He is then paraded through the city streets as the people rejoice and cry out, “Long live King Solomon!” The scent of the oil would have marked everyone’s minds with the image of their king being exalted among his people.
Let’s keep these two Old Testament examples in our minds as we transition forward, but first we need to make sure we are all on the same page. God’s Word, the Bible, is a cohesive story. We know from scripture that God is unchanging, so we should not be surprised to find many parallels between the Old Testament and New Testament; it’s the same God in charge. The Lord Almighty didn’t take a break to come up with a Plan B since His attempts at redemption through the law didn’t pan out. God’s plan of redemption spans the entire breadth of the story, from creation to His second coming and final victory. Understanding this, let’s continue this aromatic adventure into some New Testament scripture.
There is mention of a specific event of anointing in multiple gospels that will prove itself much more profound upon further study than we might gain from a cursory glance. In John 12 Mary of Bethany anoints Jesus with a large quantity of a very expensive perfume; it reads:
Six days before the Passover, Jesus therefore came to Bethany, where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. So they gave a dinner for him there. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those reclining with him at table. Mary therefore took a pound of expensive ointment made from pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (he who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this ointment not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” He said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it. Jesus said, “Leave her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of my burial. For the poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me.” (John 12:1-8 ESV)
Nard was an expensive ointment imported from northern India and used for anointing. The amount Mary possessed would be valued at roughly an entire year’s wages for the average laborer. John focuses on the anointing of Jesus’ feet, while in Mark and Matthew it tells of her anointing his head. Considering she probably had about half a liter of perfume, she apparently had plenty to anoint both. The scent was so aromatic it scented not only Jesus, but the entire house was filled with the fragrance. Judging by its expense, it’s unlikely many in that house would have ever encountered the smell of pure nard before. This bouquet would have been indelibly stamped into their memories as the scent of their beloved teacher.
This anointing takes place “six days before the Passover,” likely making it Saturday evening since Passover began Friday evening at sundown. The significance of this is magnified when we consider what happens the next day. That Sunday begins what we traditionally refer to as Passion Week, specifically “Palm Sunday.” In John 12: 12-15, Jesus rides into the city mounted on a donkey as crowds of people shout, “Hosanna!” and refer to him as, “the King of Israel!” Just as Solomon had ridden through the streets to riotous rejoicing of his kingship, Jesus is celebrated by His people and proclaimed king, though they do not yet understand that He would not be the political and military leader they were expecting. He would usher in leadership marked by servant-hood and sacrifice, and, though he would wear a crown of thorns later, He was already wearing the “crown” of nard, the scent surely lingering beyond the evening before. Paralleling Solomon’s coronation, Jesus would have smelled like royalty. However, the scent of royalty was not the only aroma wafting from Jesus’ robes during that triumphal entry.
Though it may seem obvious to us now with thousands of years of hindsight to our advantage, in John 12 verse 16 we are told that the disciples didn’t understand the depth of many of the events unfolding around them until they could be understood in light of the crucifixion and resurrection. Jesus is referred to as the “Lamb of God” in multiple places throughout scripture. We know he was the perfect sacrifice. The Greek terms “euodia” and “osme” are used often in the Greek translation of the Old Testament when referring to the aroma of a sacrifice pleasing to God, for example, that wonderful fragrance of Noah’s sacrifice which pleased the Lord to place the rainbow of covenant in the sky. Osme is also the term translated “fragrance” in John 12 describing the scent of the perfume filling Mary’s home. How fitting that the scent of Christ leading up to the crucifixion would be that of a pleasing sacrifice. That not only would we be preserved from death by worldwide flood, but fully saved from death for eternity.
What do we smell like to God? Do our lives give off a pleasing fragrance? I believe we can gain some wisdom in exploring what I consider our “spiritual sense of smell.” I had a friend in high school, Nick, who was an anosmiac; he was born without a sense of smell. He would have one of my friends and I help him shop for cologne. Why would he even bother wearing cologne when he couldn’t smell it himself? Simple: girls. He had heard girls like guys who smell good and he wasn’t about to loose out on any opportunities because he didn’t know how to pick a good cologne. After purchasing it, my friend and I realized we also needed to make sure he knew how much was an acceptable amount to wear… He trusted our judgement as girls to which scent we would be most attracted to. His best friend, however, had a different job. He had the job of telling Nick if he stunk. Nick was an athletic guy, so he trusted his best friend to let him know if measures needed to be taken beyond cologne. It seems to me that sometimes we need friends we trust to let us know if we stink, too.
God will place people in our lives to alert us when our spiritual lives smell less like the wonderful beef barbecue of sacrifice, but perhaps more like that cow’s manure. Sin stinks. If we don’t know God’s word and its instruction for our lives we can be spiritual anosmiacs; not realizing how offensive our odor is we continue living our lives in selfishness or bitterness or hypocrisy or pride and don’t understand why no one wants to be near us. Sometimes we know we stink, but, just like spending time in a barn full of manure, we become so accustomed to the stench we don’t even notice it anymore. We know not to gossip, and at first we’re sensitive to speaking about others only in ways which are gratifying to all in the conversation, but soon we’re sharing others’ struggles and sin behind their back and calling them “prayer requests.” We tell “white lies” to our spouse or our kids or friends so we will appear in the best light. (As Katie the maid in the classic movie Meet Me In St. Louis would say, “A lie’s a lie. Dressin’ it in white don’t help it.”) Or perhaps our particular stink comes from areas in our lives we desperately try to keep hidden. Sins of temptation we give in to and swear it will be the last time, so many times we begin to not smell the rotting of sin in our souls any longer. We attempt to behave righteously with wrong motivations. Rather than longing to please God with our service we seek recognition and praise from others. In Isaiah 64:6 it says, “all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.” The ESV translation takes it even farther to say, “all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment.” Think a minute about what a “polluted garment” would smell like… That’s right, think back to the diaper story. When we attempt to do right things apart from God we give off a seriously foul odor.
So, apparently I stink. Bad. Can this festering stench of sin be removed? Absolutely. Obviously, the first thing we need to do is take a bath. Titus 3:5 says, “he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit…” We know that when we attempt to earn God’s favor on our own our “righteous” deeds give off the smell of a “polluted garment,” but right here it says that in God’s great mercy we can be washed to the point we are actually regenerated (made new) and His Spirit can dwell in us. We are saved through the pleasing sacrifice of Christ’s perfect life marked by service, leading to his undeserved, shameful death upon a cross. Just like the Old Testament sacrifice, only now in a complete and everlasting form, Christ’s blood is poured out to cleanse sin. This is more than I can wrap my mind around, but truly we can be perfectly clean.
After being fully cleansed through the acceptance of Christ’s sacrifice, I would imagine we’re at some sort of smell base zero. We’re neutral. Malodor removed, but I don’t want to just not stink. I want to smell great. I want to smell like the best smelling person ever. Obviously, I want to smell like Jesus. In John 12, after anointing Jesus, Mary wipes his feet with her hair. This act holds many layers of significance considering Jewish women rarely unbound their hair in public and points to an expression of Mary’s complete and passionate devotion to Christ, as well as her humility in placing herself at His feet. We can only smell like someone through close proximity to that person. My husband instantly knows when my kids have been spending time with my mom because her signature perfume scent clings to them after they’ve been dropped off at home.
How can we “smell” like Jesus now? If we cursorily dissect Mary’s actions we can glean some spiritual insight. First, Mary gave Jesus what was probably one of her most valuable possessions, possibly her dowry. We don’t have to have something expensive to give Jesus, but what is something that is precious to us that we can entrust to Him? Something we have been holding onto in our hearts, unwilling to give it up? A spiritual gift we know we have, but aren’t using? Resources we’ve been blessed with, but aren’t generously blessing others with? After anointing Jesus, Mary wiped his feet with her hair. There’s a couple applications we can pull from this. As was mentioned previously, it was not normal for a woman to have unbound hair in public. I see this as a very intimate act that Mary would “let her hair down” for her Savior. Christ invites us to have both intimacy and transparency with Him. We can stand before Him exposed for what we really are, not hiding behind pride or vanity or self-righteousness. Sometimes it’s when we’re at our most vulnerable that we experience Him for who He really is as well. Mary’s posture before the Lord is one of humility. She’s not standing above Him bestowing a gift and then blessing herself with it. She uses all of it on Him and then soaks up some of the excess. May we spend ourselves fully on the work the Lord has put before us; using our gifts to bless others, pouring ourselves out for them holding nothing back.
Truly, then we must have an aroma that is most pleasing to our Savior, who held nothing back, but poured Himself out for us. It is then, when we have humbly given our all to Jesus that we smell most sweet. 2 Corinthians 2:14-15 says that, “through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing…” Lord, help us live lives perfumed so pleasantly with love for You pouring out into our love for others that everyone around us would be drawn closer to the ambrosia of life effusing from our Savior. Amen.
Still need to learn how to correctly credit sources within a paper, but until then, here’s my sources for this post:
Bible, English Standard Version Study Bible
Sitting at the Feet of Rabbi Jesus: How the Jewishness of Jesus Can Transform Your Faith by Ann Spangler and Lois Tverberg
John Courson’s Application Commentary, New Testament
This is my favorite post so far.