The scene is Bethany six days before Passover. Jesus, the disciples, Mary, Martha, Lazarus, a man named Simon, and various other friends are at dinner. Lazarus is seated at the table with Jesus. Martha is serving. Mary comes in with a pound of pure nard, a costly ointment. She sits at Jesus feet and anoints them. The fragrance fills the room.
Let’s imaginatively go into Mary’s mind and heart to do some Ignatian contemplation with today’s Gospel.
Inside Mary of Bethany’s Mind and Heart
“I am so glad that Jesus came back to Bethany to celebrate my brother’s rising from the dead. It is such a wonder! Yet, I am also worried, very worried. We are only two miles from Jerusalem. Word is that there is a growing effort among the temple leaders to find a way to put Jesus to death. Raising my brother was the one-thing-too-many. They’ve been able to diminish Jesus’ influence and put down the idea that he is at least a prophet and maybe the Messiah. But raising someone who has been in the tomb four days—that’s evidence that Jesus is truly of God. He is the Messiah. If he is the Messiah, well, he is giving a very different picture of God the Father than the Pharisees give. Jesus spends his time teaching and helping. He cures illnesses and casts out demons. He spends time with people who are public sinners—and enjoys their company. He upholds the Law. He knows his Torah. But he says life in God is more than obeying the written down law. You must also give of yourself. Love God. Love others. Love others enough to sacrifice for them. While that is what the prophets have always told us, that is not what the Pharisees do. Jesus threatens them both publicly and in their consciences.
I’m glad, too, that Martha has other women to help her tonight. She smiled at me and said, ‘Mary, I know how you love to listen to Jesus. You don’t need to help me tonight. Sit and listen.’ That is exactly what I intend to do.
But how strange. This idea keeps coming in my head: use the vial of spikenard you have. Anoint Jesus with it. Here I am, sitting near Jesus and my brother, over in a corner, out of sight, listening. But I can’t pay attention. My mind keeps going to the vial of nard. I’m going to do it. I feel compelled to do it!….
And so, I did. I poured it on his feet and wiped them with my hair. What an intimate, bold thing to do! Another woman did it some time ago. I did it tonight. As I did, tears came. They were soft tears, but so many of them. They, too, fell on Jesus’ feet. As they did, I had this strong, deep sense that this was my last night with Jesus. I was doing the last loving thing I could. It broke my heart open.
And then, it was as if Jesus saw into me. He read my heart. I heard Judas say, ‘Why wasn’t this ointment sold and the money given to the poor?’ When Judas said that, I stopped and thought—should I have done that? But then, something deep within me said, ‘No!’ Then Jesus said, ‘Let her alone, let her keep it for the day of my burial.’
I spoke to Jesus tonight, but we didn’t talk. He read my heart. He saw into me. What a beautiful thing, that my friend Jesus saw into my heart—saw the fear and the love and how important it was to me to do this small act.”
Intimacy with Jesus
Whether you simply read today’s Gospel or entered imaginatively into Mary’s mind using Ignatian prayer, the Gospel today is about an intimate relationship between Jesus and Mary of Bethany. What, exactly, is intimacy? Two psychological definitions are “a state of extreme emotional closeness so that either person’s emotional space can be entered without discomfort” or “an affectionate or loving relationship with deep understanding of each other.”
According to those definitions, the Gospel scene today is definitely intimacy between Jesus and Mary. We probably all have some intimate relationships: spouse, child, parent, friend. Do we have an intimate relationship with Jesus? Can we imagine boldly showing Jesus love? Does it seem that Jesus can read our minds? Or that we can read his? What does intimacy with Jesus look like for me, for you?
That’s an important question.
The new Directory for Catechesis quotes St. Pope John Paul II, “At the center of every process of catechesis is the living encounter with Christ. ‘Accordingly, the definitive aim of catechesis is to put people not only in touch, but in communion, in intimacy, with Jesus Christ; only he can lead us to the love of the Father in the Spirit and make us share in the life of the Holy Trinity.’” (paragraph 75 in the Catechetical Directory, paragraph 5 in John Paul’s Catechesi Tradendae)
Pope Benedict XVI frequently said the same thing. I found this from when he visited Great Britain in 2010: “Not only does God love us with a depth and an intensity that we can scarcely begin to comprehend, but he invites us to respond to that love. You all know what it is like when you meet someone interesting and attractive, and you want to be that person’s friend. You always hope they will find you interesting and attractive, and want to be your friend. God wants your friendship. And once you enter into friendship with God, everything in your life begins to change. As you come to know him better, you find you want to reflect something of his infinite goodness in your own life.”
But How Does That Intimacy Happen?
In my therapy work someone once defined intimacy as “into-me-see.” What is into-me-see? It is saying: Let me let down my walls, my pretensions, so you see me. Let me be vulnerable to you—let you see more than the best. See the confusions and the worst, too. See all that with love. Into-me-see.
I remember years ago, when I would get upset about something, I would struggle with it by myself in the night, so that when morning came, I could pray about it without raging feelings or un-Christian thoughts. One night I just couldn’t get myself under control. Finally, I cried out to God something to the effect, “Lord, I’m trying to be good enough to talk to you about this, but I can’t get there!”
And then, first came a torrent of tears, then came laughter, as I realized that, OF COURSE, God had seen all of me as I lay tossing and turning. It would have been a better idea all along to have taken the whole distress straight to him to lead and guide me through! God finds it easy to into-me-see. He loves intimacy with me, even at my worst. Over time I have discovered, he takes my worst and cleans it up. I just have to be willing to CHOOSE to let him into-me-see. I have to get myself to his feet.
I’ve been struggling with something this past week, and, bluntly, not until I started writing this did I realize that I’ve been back trying to be better than I am, trying to fix some runaway feelings by myself, before I take them to God. Oh-oh!
Intimacy with God is a better idea!
Prayer:
Lord, with my will I say, “into-me-see.” I long for and need your intimacy. Give me the courage to let you in—ALL the way, to see all of me. Lead me, guide me, Lord.
Blessings to all for a Holy Week intimate with Jesus and for a joyful Easter!
