Jesus,
I love an image –
Mary used a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume;
poured it on your feet
and wiped your feet with her hair.*
Every time I see the image,
I am filled with love.
Did you like the aroma of nard?
Why did Mary know you like the aroma?
This was not the first time Mary wiped your feet with her hair, right?
You didn’t seem surprised when Mary did such.
All your disciples didn’t seem to take care of you,
except Mary.
Your disciples knew you would die
but only Mary prepared for your burial.
Mary loved you,
perhaps looked like your lover,
but firstly, looked like your disciple.
Perhaps Mary thought so much about your death.
Mary knew
she always had the poor with her,
but she would not always have you.
So every minute she had with you was precious.
And you seemed to know Mary’s feeling.
So every minute you had with her was precious.
…
I continue think about the image.
Amen.
PTH
