Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 2126
“She has worked a good work upon Me.” Matthew 26:10.
STUDY carefully the story of the enthusiastic Christian woman who poured the alabaster box of very precious ointment upon the head of our ever-blessed Lord and Savior. Honored as that action is by the universal Church of God, it did not escape criticism among the religious people of her own day. The disciples censured her but Christ defended her—and in the course of His vindication of her He said, “Why trouble you the women? For she has worked a good work upon Me.” There is no reason for troubling gracious men and women—and specially no cause for so doing when their work is good and is done for their Lord. Yet are there plenty of critics around us this day and we could spare a few of them from our own immediate neighborhood. They are only able to worry us so far as we think of them and therefore we will let the wasps alone and feed upon the honey which flows from the lips of our Lord Jesus.
Observe that this woman had worked a good work—good in intent and good in itself. Her Lord said so and His verdict ends all debate. Observe especially that her good work was a good work upon the Lord Jesus. It was of no immediate benefit to anybody else nor was it meant to be. “This ointment might have been sold for much and given to the poor.” So Judas and the other disciples said. The 500 pence which it would have produced might have been spent on bread and so have fed many poor people. But she expended it on Jesus and meant that it should all be used in His honor and that only.
Poor or not poor, she thought only of Him. The ointment might have been used for certain purposes at festivals, or otherwise, and so have been more or less beneficial to a number of persons—but on this occasion the benefit was to the Lord alone—and she meant it to be so. On this account the practical philanthropist called it, “waste.” Is anything wasted which is all for Jesus? It might rather seem as if all would be wasted which was not given to Him!
This box of precious ointment was all for Him. Other persons in the room might smell the sweet perfume but that was not what the grateful woman aimed at—she intended all the sweetness for Jesus—it was a good work worked upon Him. The woman’s thought was that she would honor the Lord. Her only intention was to show her reverence for Him—and provided He should be pleased with her deed, she would be perfectly content—though no one else might be gratified. Her first and last thoughts were for the Lord Jesus Himself.
We know from another Evangelist that she broke the alabaster box. Was there need for that? Not in order that the ointment might be poured forth. She might, we should suppose, have opened the box in a less hasty manner. But the manner of a gift has frequently as much in it as the matter of a gift. She broke the box to display her eagerness and to show that the choicest thing she had was not good enough for Jesus. She banished every notion of economy when she thought of her Lord. If she had possessed 10,000 times as much, she would have given it all to Him and have poured it out without a thought!
She did not count her offering a lavish expenditure—she would have made it lavish if it had been in her power. She would have no saving of pots and calculating of pennyworths when He was in the case—there should be no trace of stinginess in her homage to her Lord. It was, therefore, as necessary that she should break the box as that she should pour out the ointment, for she wanted to show that she loved her Savior immeasurably—and she wished to express to Him, as best she could—her intense veneration of Him and her ardent affection for Him. Had some of us been there, we might have called it eccentricity, or fanaticism, or precipitancy, or waste. But she did not care what onlookers might have to say—her only consideration was what Jesus might think. To please Him was the height and range of her ambition. Happy woman, to have reached this gracious absorption!
The good work which she performed was, far beyond her own thought, a most appropriate one. Love is ever wise. Jesus was a King. He had ridden through the streets of Jerusalem in triumph. The multitude had strewn branches in His path.
They had saluted Him with hosannas. They had done much by way of coronation, but they had not anointed Him. Why this omission? She will anoint Him if no one else will. Her hands shall bring out the perfumed nerd and pour the precious ointment upon the King of Israel! He was a Priest, too, and especially a pardoning Priest to her. She recognized His sacred priesthood—but the oil that fell on Aaron’s head had never, literally, fallen upon the head of Jesus and therefore she must anoint Him plenteously till the oil not only ran to the skirts of His garment, but filled all the house where they were sitting.
As King and as Priest she will take care that He is not without a costly anointing. Moreover, it was customary to anoint pilgrims for their refreshment at the end of a long journey when they came into the house. The host on this occasion had neglected this act of courtesy. It was most suitable, then, that when this great Lord of Pilgrims, whose path had been weary and woeful and had, at length, nearly ended His years of travel in this thorny wilderness—it was, I say, most suitable that He should receive refreshment from the woman’s hospitable hand. Weary and worn was He and she would gladly anoint Him with the oil of gladness. Though others had rejected Him, she anointed His head and acknowledged the way-worn Traveler as the noblest Guest earth ever entertained!