John Webster writes that, “Holy Communion proclaims the Lord’s death as it testifies to, points to, indicates, what was done once when Jesus the Servant of the Lord was put to death” (Confronted by Grace, 76). Correspondingly, Matthew 26:1-30 highlights Holy Communion’s formal installation by Jesus, and concludes with a hymn and a shift of scene toward the Mount of Olives. The balance of chapters 26 and 27 enact Jesus as our sin bearer as the events of Gethsemane, Jesus’ arrest, trial, crucifixion, death, and burial transpire.
The Communion section (26:1-30) begins with Jesus predicting His death in connection with Passover and with the religious leaders’ plot to kill Him (v. 1-5). It ends with Jesus sending disciples to prepare the Passover meal and with the subsequent institution of the Lord’s Supper (v. 17-30). It is implicit throughout this and in light of the impending crucifixion, that Jesus is presented as the new Passover lamb, who would die as the perfect sacrifice for His people (cf. Jn. 1:29; 1 Cor. 5:7; 1 Pet. 1:18-21). Yet, in this context, it is interesting that sandwiched between the Passover-Communion narrative of verses 1-5 and 17-30, are two notably opposite accounts of how a couple of individuals appraised the Savior.
A Woman
The first account is of a woman in verses 6-13. She came to Jesus at a home in Bethany “…with an alabaster flask of very expensive ointment, and she poured it on his head as he reclined at table” (v. 7). John’s gospel identifies the woman as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead (Jn. 12:3). Matthew, in contrast, leaves the woman unnamed and focuses instead on her lavish act toward Jesus.
The cost of her act is astonishing. Matthew says the flask contained “very expensive ointment” (v. 7). Both Mark and John add that the ointment was of “pure nard” (14:3; 12:3 respectively). Since nard was imported from India, it’s likely that this was a valuable heirloom passed down for generations (Keener, Matthew, 618). As to its cost, again, Mark and John give more detail, appraising the nard at three-hundred denarii, which is equivalent to a year’s income for most workers (Mk. 14:5; Jn. 12:5). Further, Mary’s act of pouring out the nard on Jesus evoked immediate indignation from the disciples for being wasteful, since the money fetched by its sale might have helped the poor (v. 8-9). Yet, Jesus defended the woman as having done “a beautiful thing” (v. 10), in preparation for His burial (v. 12), and it will not be forgotten. For, Jesus says, “Truly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her” (v. 13). Years ago, J. C. Ryle penned a beautiful pastoral thought on this verse: “The deeds and titles of many a king, and emperor, and general, are as completely forgotten, as if written in the sand. But the grateful act of one Christian woman is recorded in one hundred and fifty different languages, and is known all over the globe. The praise of man is but a few days. The praise of Christ endureth forever (Expository Thoughts on the Gospels, 1:348).”
It is also worth noting that Mary’s deed was not in an effort to secure God’s favor or deliverance but, rather, out of gratitude for it. Mary was already a believing and grateful follower of Christ, whose brother Jesus had raised (cf. Jn 12). Thus, Mary comes not to earn something but to give something—namely, through the pouring out of the costly flask; she lavishes her love and gratitude upon Christ. Mary (the unnamed woman in Matthew) valued Jesus greatly. But Judas did not.
A Man
Intriguingly, in juxtaposition with Mary is Judas. The text states, “Then one of the twelve, whose name was Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, ‘What will you give me if I deliver [Jesus] over to you?’ And they paid him thirty pieces of silver. And from that moment he sought an opportunity to betray him” (Matt. 26:14-16). The contrast between Mary and Judas is stark.
First, while the woman (Mary) is left unnamed in Matthew, to the effect that she appears in even more strikingly humble terms—yet, in contrast, her foil is a named and prominent man. Indeed, the text identifies him as Judas and as “one of the twelve” (v. 14). Second, though both sections deal with money: the woman acts in unselfishness. For, she willingly and joyfully poured the costly ointment upon Jesus, which necessitates that in doing so she has forfeited the opportunity to use it merely for herself. While Judas, on the other hand, is clearly motivated by self-centered greed. This is evident in Judas’ going to the priests with the question, “What are you willing to give me to betray Him to you?” (v. 15, italic added). It is corroborated further by the fact that Judas had charge of the common apostolic money bag, but being a thief; he would pilfer from it (Jn. 12:6).
A third contrast appears in the value that each of these individuals placed upon Jesus. For Mary joyfully deemed Christ as worthy of the very best she had to give, her three-hundred denarii. While Judas, we are told, betrayed Jesus for “thirty pieces of silver” (Matt. 26:15). Grant Osborne estimates the silver at one-tenth of the ointment’s value, as well as the fulfillment of Zech. 11:12-13 (Matthew, 956). Yet, more telling than the bare cost disparity is the matter of the heart. For it is striking that the amount Judas is offered and accepts to betray Christ is the price one would pay for a slave, who had been accidently killed (cf. Ex. 21:32). Consequently, Michael Wilkins aptly suggests that the thirty pieces of silver is “a way of indicating a paltry amount” which reflects, “the insignificance of Jesus in the minds of Judas and the chief priests” (Matthew, 830).
C. S. Lewis wrote that in Shakespeare’s play, King Lear, is a character with such a minor role that Shakespeare doesn’t give him a name. He simply calls him the “First Servant.” Other characters around him are Edmund, Regan, and Cornwall, his master. In the scene, these named men wickedly conspire to blind old man Gloucester. When the First Servant sees this taking place, however, he will have none of it. In a flash, he draws his sword and points it at his master. But Regan stabs the First Servant dead from behind. Lewis notes that this is the First Servant’s entire scene, “eight lines all told.” So if an actor wanted to land a part in King Lear, the First Servant is not the role they would hope to act. “But”, says Lewis, “if it were real life and not a play, that is the part it would be best to have acted (The World’s Last Night, 104-05).”
In Matthew 26:1-30, we find the Holy Communion narrative. Here the Son of God is portrayed as our Passover Lamb. In the remainder of this gospel, Jesus is then physically “…delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification” (Rom. 4:25). His people are saved by grace through faith in Him (Eph. 2:8-9). Also, in Matthew 26:6-16, we have how two individuals appraised Christ: Judas, who acted in greed and appraised Jesus as insignificant; and a believing woman who lavished love and gratitude upon her Deliverer, esteeming Him worthy of her very best.
Like Shakespeare’s unnamed “First Servant”, so the woman in Matthew is unnamed. And as the First Servant’s part is “eight lines all told”, so the Matthean woman’s part is eight verses in all (v. 6-13). But, more importantly, to respond to Jesus in heartfelt love and gratitude for His person and redemptive work, is always “the part it would be best to have acted” – both then and now.
As we come to Holy Week and celebrate Christ’s redemptive work through Word and sacrament: may it inspire a renewed awe in us for our great King. And through it, may the Holy Spirit kindle a fresh passion to serve Christ in love and gratitude. For, from a cup of cold water (Matt. 10:42), costly ointment (Matt. 26:7), and widow’s small coins (Mk. 12:42-44), to thanksgiving, loud shouts, songs, praise, honor, worship, and glory (Ps. 33:1-3; Rev. 5:11-14)–He is worthy of all.
Dean Landry is Sr. Pastor of Indian Valley Faith Fellowship in Harleysville, PA.
