“In Memory Of Her”
Jackson Snyder
In
Memory of Geneva Wyant S.
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The Imitation of
Christ
Matthew 5:3
“Happy are the
poor in spirit ...” (YLB) Luke 6:20 “Happy are
the poor ...”
(YLB)
She Loved The
Son So Much... Once upon a time there was a wealthy
man who lost his wife when their only child was young. An elderly nurse was hired to take care of the
boy, who lived only into his teens.
Heartbroken from this second loss, the wealthy father died a short time
later. But no will could be found; and
since there were no relatives, it looked as if the state would get his
fortune. The man’s personal belongings,
including his mansion, were put up for sale.
The old nurse had very little money, but
there was one thing she wanted. It was
a picture that had hung on a wall in the house – a photo of the boy she had
loved and nurtured. When the items were
sold, nobody else wanted the picture, so she bought it for just a few
dollars. Taking it home, she began to
clean it and polish the glass. As she
took it apart, a paper fell out. It was
the man’s will, and in it he stated that all his wealth should go to the one
who loved his son enough to buy that picture.
Caspar ten Boom: Once the occupation of Holland was underway
and the Jews began to suffer persecution, Casper, although quite old by then,
devoted himself to the rescue effort. He even attempted to get his own yellow
Star of David to wear, so he could identify with the Jews in their time of
trouble. He surprised Corrie by his comment when he saw the soldiers packing
Jews into the back of a truck: “Those poor people,” he lamented. “I pity the
poor Germans. They have touched the apple of God’s eye.”
Once Corrie asked one of the pastors if he
would be willing to take a Jewish baby. When she showed the child to him, his
only response was “No. Definitely not. We could lose our lives for that child.”
Casper had overheard the conversation, took the baby in his arms, and
commented, “You say we could lose our lives for this child. I would consider
that the greatest honor that could come to my family.”
(In the motion picture, The Hiding Place,”
Caspar tells the Christian minister something like, ““We love the Jews because
we can thank them for the two greatest treasures. First, a Book written by the
Jews. It is the Bible and we must thank Israel for it. Second, it got me
acquainted with my greatest Friend. He was a Jew. This Friend is my Savior.) Whenever any of his friends told him to stop keeping Jews in his home because he could be sent to prison, he would respond, “I am too old for prison life, but if that should happen, then it would be, for me, an honor to give my life for God’s ancient people, the Jews.” He did just that. From K Alan Snyder, “Corrie ten Boom: A Protestant Evangelical Response to the Nazi Persecution of the Jews.”
Psalms
22:14-18 (in the message)
Mark 14:1.
It was now two days before the Passover and the feast of Unleavened Bread. And
the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to arrest [Yahshua] by
stealth, and kill him; 2. for they
said, “Not during the feast, lest there be a tumult of the people.” 3.
And while he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat
at table, a woman came with an alabaster flask of ointment of pure spikenard,
very costly, and she broke the flask and poured it over his head.
4.
But there were some who said to themselves indignantly, “Why was the
ointment thus wasted? 5. For this ointment might have been sold for
more than three hundred denarii, and given to the poor.” And they reproached
her.
6.
But Yahshua said, “Let her alone; why do you
trouble her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 7. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you will,
you can do good to them; but you will not always have me. 8. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body
beforehand for burying. 9. And truly, I say to you, wherever the good news is preached
in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”
10.
Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief
priests in order to betray him to them.
11. And when they heard it they
were glad, and promised to give him money. And he sought an opportunity to
betray him.
We have been following Yahshua as he makes
his last journey from his homeland of Galilee up to Jerusalem, where he’ll pour
out his life for the world. It’s the
Spring of 33 A.D. The most important
observance, the Passover, and the Feast of Unleavened Bread, are to arrive in a
matter of days. Yahshua will die on the
day of Passover and rise on the Sabbath after.
He’s made that a surety. Now
Yahshua’s on the outskirts of Jerusalem, having taken residence in Bethany, a
suburb of the Holy City.
That Yahshua foreknew his future is proved
by his plain foretelling of what would happen earlier; but a special proof is
revealed by his cries from the stake: “Elohi, Elohi,
lama sabachthani?” “My El, My El, why
have you forsaken me?” Some
wrongly believed he was calling on Elijah to save him. Others to this day teach that his heavenly
Father had forgotten him. But disciples
know that, from the cross, he was reciting the 22nd Psalm in his
desperate agony – a song that also foretold of his torture:
Psalms
22:14. I am
poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax,
it is melted within my breast; 15.
my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and
my tongue cleaves to my jaws; thou dost lay me in the dust of death. 16. Yea, dogs are round about me; a company of evildoers encircle
me; they have pierced my hands and feet-17. I can count all
my bones-they stare and gloat over me; 18. they divide my
garments among them, and for my raiment they cast lots.
Horror
Inside
Yahshua’s heart must have been in a state
of emotional horror as he reclined at table with his host, Simon, the leader in
the local synagogue, and the rest of the company VIPs. They wondered why Yahshua seemed nervous, or
maybe just not his entertaining self tonight.
Though he’d told his followers time after time he would suffer, how
could it happen now, just when he’d achieved such glorious invitations
to dine with leading figures?
One soul perceived his discomfort. Just one.
A Nameless Woman.
She knew. Somehow, she
knew that this man, a good and innocent man, a man she loved
without reservation, would soon endure indescribable anguish for her sake – and
for the sake of the world.
Her
Compassion
She had compassion beyond mere words or
natural affection. What words could
possibly describe her deep moanings, groanings, cavernous intercessions –
floods of tears? And what
affection! Not mere pity; sacrificial
affection isn’t pity. True
compassion isn’t pity. Her diamond of compassion
had many facets. Empathy for
instance - endūring the exquisite pain of the other, suffering with and
within the suffering, hurting with the hurt, starving with the starved, being
nailed up with the crucified, dying with the condemned. Such empathy was hers.
Another facet was her action. This Nameless Woman not only feels,
but does: sharing in the other’s hardship, pouring herself out for the
other’s desperate need, doing whatever is within her realm of possibilities to
alleviate the suffering, knowing that when the pain of the Beloved ceases, so
might hers. The Nameless Woman knows
her Master’s on his trail of tears.
With the premeditation that starts with a broken heart, she does all
she can. She anoints him for
burial.
His
Compassion
No one in Simon’s house understands her but
one. Yahshua, who deserted glory, he
understands. He was born to save her
and her kind not because he was compelled to nor because it was his duty nor
because his coming would fulfill ancient prophecies, but because he felt
compassion for people despite what they felt for him.
Over and over, when Yahshua ministers to
the rabble by feeding, healing, forgiving, he tells his disciples exactly why
he’s pouring himself out for the worthless.
Time after time he explains, “I feel. I feel. I feel compassion for all these folks
(oclon)”
(Matthew 9:36,14:14,15:32; Mark
8:2, etc.).
In Bible language, this word “compassion” (splagcnizomai) denotes deep inner uneasiness – its meaning
isn’t unlike the cramping we feel in our bowels when we receive very bad news –
like when a loved one is diagnosed with a serious illness, or a close relative
dies. Our innermost parts are
throttled. We feel sick inside.
Yahshua sees the masses, and he knows of
their desperate living conditions and ultimate fate in the fires of
Gehenna. This is a terrifying end for
those whom he helped create. Now he’s
come to seek and save that which is lost!
He returns with good news! He
pities the wretches around him with all his being, yet he acts with all his
ability – all his living – for those Satan has exploited, enslaved and
molested.
He even has compassion for these gluttons
at table with him: they’re far more lost than the sinners outside, but they
won’t recognize it. He even loves his
betrayer – he came to seek and save him, too - yet Yahshua knows this man will
not be saved.
A Waste?
Yahshua’s short life often seems like a
waste, doesn’t it? Wasting time? Resources?
Casting pearls to swine? Helping
ingrates who don’t care a fig?
Yahshua owns the wisdom of the ages,
Yet he spends his wisdom
on those who can’t understand it.
Yahshua is well-endowed and lacks for nothing,
Yet he splurges all his
money on the poor.
Yahshua has influential friends who could make him king,
Yet he tries only to
impress the disinherited and untouchable.
Yahshua could’ve founded a new religion.
Yet he gives up his
aspirations for the unborn.
Though he could’ve summoned angels in the throes of his agony,
He chooses to be poured
out like water -
as though he is as
worthless and plentiful as water.
{pause}
Yet there are still those thirsty for him today –
They gather his dew from
the wind.
Kenosis – The Outpouring
But now, the Nameless Woman creeps into the
ruler’s house like a spirit and pours out HER life as a holocaust to him. She harbors the precious alabaster flask
filled with the blood-red ointment of the nard’s root,
·
So rare -
imported from far away India;
·
So valuable
- worth about $15,000 – a life’s fortune then;
·
So fragrant
– a potent perfume used to fuel youthful passions or disguise the disgusting
fumes of a rotting corpse.
Quickly, she breaks the fragile alabaster
and immediately the sweet, overpowering ambrosia wafts out, capturing the stale
air of the house. Standing behind the
reclining and soon-to-be condemned Savior, she pours the thick, red unguent
upon his head, and it slowly smears down his hair and face and onto his
shoulders, then to the floor like congealing blood. Bead after bead, it drips and drops. Dollar after dollar; denarius after denarius
(RSV); shilling after shilling
(ASV); pence after pence
(KJV)
– drop by drop, the
Nameless Woman’s comfortable life ekes forth from the alabaster flask.
Her future security, mite by mite,
Her rent for the next twenty years, drip by drip,
Her daily bread and bread for tomorrow, bead by bead.
Finally, even her fare back home is gone. All gone.
But the Nameless Woman cares nothing for
her comfort or lost wealth; for, even after careful consideration and
thoughtful financial planning, her life’s investment has now been redeemed
by purchasing what she considers the most important commodity of all – more
necessary than her welfare, more needy than her family, more pressing than her
future, more valuable than her own life.
She has anointed the Savior of the World for burial.
*
*
*
Wastefulness
“Why this waste?” cried the thief. “We could’ve received this as a donation for
the poor before she ruined it!
Three hundred denarii is a fortune!
Think of how many we could’ve saved with that!” he lied, and all
while the expensive red goop was slowly dribbling down the Savior’s beard.
Those who steal from Yahweh use good causes
to raise money, but they have their personal ministry at heart – which is often
themselves. In the minds of the
corrupt, money-worshiping bishops at the table, the woman’s prodigal
generosity was recognized as wastefulness. Covetousness set it, which is idolatry. These men, even disciples, worshipped another god that hour – a
god named “Stingy.”
Even the name of their town betrays a
stingy, penny-pinching attitude.
Bethany means “House of Poverty.”
It was poor not because there was no money; it was poor because
it was selfish. No seeds sown; no
harvest grown. Had these idolaters
known the Nameless Woman had such wealth, they would’ve surely had it. And I’m afraid if we’d been present, if we’d
known the value of the spikenard as they did, we might’ve agreed with the
thief’s assessment – what waste!
But the incident turned out for the good,
for, in the end, the Nameless Woman spent what was hers on what she
desired.
The Nameless
Granddaughter
We took the Nameless Granddaughter to the
beach years ago. She was only four
years old. We bought her a big bottle
of “Bubble Stuff” at the dollar store and gave it to her. It became her possession. We thought we might enjoy watching
her blow bubbles in the wind. We didn’t
think of what she might want to do with her possession.
We sat this Nameless Granddaughter in the
sand, opened that big plastic bottle of super-cheap Bubble Stuff and put the
bubble wand in her hand. We went back
to our beach chairs to watch the show.
When we’d just gotten seated, we beheld the Nameless Granddaughter
carefully set the wand down, pick up the plastic bottle of Bubble Stuff in both
hands then slowly and gleefully pour it all out, anointing the sand.
I was ridiculously upset – “Look what that
kid did! She wasted it all! I’m never going to buy her anything
again.”
Someone chided me –”What’s wrong with
you? It only cost you a dollar! You’re such a cheapskate. She did what she wanted to do with what
belonged to her, so what business is it of yours, anyway?” The rebuke was well deserved, for my would
had originated in the “House of Poverty.”
Happy Days
But doesn’t this exemplify the attitude of
so many? In comparison with the
Nameless Woman, we’re extraordinarily cheap, hording and reserved with our possessions
and wealth and love and compassion and worship and faithfulness and
selfhood. Be honest! We don’t want to pour out our valuable time
and space for our Savior and his work here in Bethany. How wasteful! Not enough time for that!
I can’t spare it! I might need
it! Somebody else might get it! My time’s about done!
This appears to me to be the general
mindset of many who grew up during The Great Depression in a House of
Poverty. If you had little or nothing
then and still feel pinched for every penny, every scrap of paper, every sliver
of soap, every pecan under the tree, every penny in the washing machine, I’ve
got great news for you! Listen!
The Great Depression is over!
It’s been finished for sixty years! Hurray!
♫ Happy days are here again! The sky above is clear again!
Let us sing a song of cheer again; Happy
Days are here again!
♪
Happy days
are here, that is, if you’ve left stingy little Bethany for the Kingdom of the
Beloved Son. “Even the poor are happy” here. Rejoice in Yahweh, and again I say,
Rejoice! You’ve got nothing to worry
about any more. Someone’s going to take
care of your every need.
A Nameless
Man
Consider the happy man who arose from
poverty six hundred years ago during the Black Plague. This particular Nameless Man became so
convicted that Jesus was poured out for him, then so compassionate
toward his suffering rescuer, that the Nameless Man decided to pour HIMSELF out
for the Beloved. He joined the
Brothers of
the Common Life in Holland. For the
next 70 years he dwelt in a cell of their dank monastery, dedicating his life
to copying holy manuscripts and praying that Jesus would visit him and tell him
what he should further do.
After many years in the cell, the Beloved
came from Heaven and visited his disciple there, answering his prayers and
petitions in person. Jesus visited the
Nameless Man often. Jesus was asked
many questions about discipleship, love, sin and sacrifice. And whatever Jesus answered, the Nameless
Man wrote down.
In one such interview, Jesus offers advice
for all who love him and desire to serve him.
The Nameless Man wrote as the Beloved dictated: “Sir,
Just as I of my own free will offered myself on the
cross for your sins with outstretched hands and naked body, so that nothing
remained in me that did not become altogether a sacrifice for you, so also
ought you every day to offer yourself willingly to me for a pure and
holy sacrifice with all your strength and affections, even to the utmost powers
of your heart. What more do I require
of you than to resign yourself altogether to me? Whatever you give aside from yourself, I care nothing for, for I
ask not for your gift, but for you.”
(Click for entire
manuscript.)
The Nameless Man poured out his long, long
life in a tiny cubicle as his gift to his Beloved. He lived in abject obscurity, unknown and unloved by others. But after his death, the manuscript that
recorded his visitations with the Beloved was preserved and has survived these
last 600 years to be cherished by every Christian luminary since, including our
founding fathers John and Charles Wesley, and yours truly. The manuscript’s title is
The Imitation of
Christ. The Imitation
has sustained unequaled popularity among religious classics all these centuries,
influencing a million believers, perhaps you too.
So much time, talent and money expended
by one solitary life – a long, long life – spent in little more than a
cave. But so much gained by the
believing world at his expense – and we still don’t even know his name.
*
*
*
Let Her
Alone!
Back in Bethany of Judea, in the House of
Cheapskates, the religious men at Simon’s table stridently rebuke the Nameless
Woman. The Scripture innocuously
reports, “They reproached her.” I can
just imagine what curses and names they directed to the dear lady. But Yahshua, his head and face enmucked in blood-red
goop, smelling like an expensive mortuary, shouted at them in the wrath of
his Father. “LEAVE HER ALONE!”
“This
woman is preparing my body for burial.
She’s done a beautiful
thing to me.
She’s given
everything she has.
And I tell you all
prophetically,
wherever the
good news is preached,
what
she’s doing will be told,
in
memory of her.”
My friend, so much has been given for us
and to us. Yahshua’s life’s blood, his
life’s ambitions, his life’s pleasures, have all been poured out like sweet,
expensive nard upon our heads. He’s
anointed us with the oil of his very being, he poured the container of his body
out drop by drop until there was nothing left.
That’s how much he loves us, as unworthy as we are. That’s how much he loves you
{and
name names}. And if he’s done all this, can we not find
it in our bowels to love him, to serve him, and to dedicate our miserable,
impoverished lives to him – and find true happiness at last? He asks not for our gift, but for us.
For
Communion
(Optional)
Long centuries have passed. Though she remains nameless, yet we once
again remember this woman beloved of Jesus, as all believers of all ages have
remembered her. Shall we dedicate our
lives to the Him – in memory of her? Amen.
Beloved - when you see the redness of the
communion wine, will remember the red spikenard ointment that was poured out
upon Yahshua by this dear woman.
Beloved - when you behold the brokenness of
your bread, will you remember the anointed Savior’s life’s energy poured out
for you? Beloved - when you once again pledge to pour your life out for your Lord and Savior, will you do so today in memory of her?
March 29, 1995,
Updated July 17, 2004 |
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