The Women of Jesus

If this man knew who this woman was, he wouldn’t let her touch him, thought the old Pharisee Simon. 

He looked at Jesus and then glanced at the woman. 

Was this man really a prophet?  Wouldn’t he know the kind of woman who was touching him?  A sinner, and of the worst kind no doubt.  This man could not be a prophet.  Surely, if he were, then he’d know.  He can’t be a prophet.  How can he not know? 

He was grateful to Jesus for healing him of the leprosy that had plagued him for years.  He was grateful to the Master for restoring him to the community, even though some still called him Simon the Leper.  But there must be something impaired about the Master’s perception.  How can he not perceive the kind of woman touching him?

Disdainfully Simon regarded her.  Even though she was his niece, she repulsed him.  He felt nauseated by the scene that was unfolding before his eyes.  Mary was kneeling on the floor before the Master’s feet, quietly but pitifully shedding tears.  She had unbuckled the Master’s sandals and had placed both his feet on the ground.  Her long black hair had swung forward, partially blocking her face. 

Simon looked around him, he hoped that no one had seen her.  What an embarrassment!  What the Master must think of him to harbor such a woman!  He felt he had no control.  It was his house.  My God, the nerve of the woman not to know her place!  Didn’t she know that this could be the Son of the Most High God.  And here she was touching the Master in a way that seemed sexual to Simon!  Now she was kissing his feet!  This was his house for goodness sake, how dare she!

Simon shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, hoping to get her attention.  She didn’t look at him.  She didn’t look at anyone.  She was using her hair to wipe away the tears that were falling on his feet.  She reached for an alabaster box that was beside her on the ground.  The strong fragrance of the spikenard filled the room.  She began anointing the right foot of Jesus.

Simon was beside himself.  He ran his hand through his hair, and gave Lazarus, his nephew, a desperate look.  Lazarus was seated beside Jesus, and was aware of her ministrations to him.  Lazarus raised his eyebrows at Simon and smiled.  Simon was happy that the Master had raised Lazarus from the dead.  It had brought honor to his household, but sometimes the boy did get on his nerves.  Simon sighed.  Lazarus will be of no help.  Martha!  Where was Martha?  He looked around the room, and caught a glimpse of her heading back to the kitchen.

“Martha!”  He practically shouted.