In this section you can find a daily commentary on the Gospel of the Day.

Sunday 28 March 2021

Passion Sunday – Year B

Word of the day
The Gospel of Mark 14:1 - 15:47

Spikenard

An extract of a root belonging to the Valerian family found in Crete and at high altitudes in the Himalayas and Tibet as well as in India, spikenard has an sweet, intense perfume and it is well known for its light amber or reddish color. An essential oil, it is obtained by crushing the stems of the plant and processing them using steam distillation. Indian spikenard is one of the first fragrant materials utilized in ancient Egypt and was cited in the Bible in the Canticle of Canticles. Known since ancient times as a scented unguent, spikenard is a balsamic oil, also called lovers' unguent or love oil.
While He was in Bethany reclining at table, a woman used an extraordinary quantity - a Roman pound, roughly equivalent to 325 grams - which she poured on Jesus' head. In those times 33 deciliters of nard oil cost approximately 300 denarii, a sum with which one could buy 10 slaves and corresponded to a year's salary for a court dignitary or an army official.
Some of those who were present, and even some of the disciples, were indignant and outraged  at her wasteful gesture. For the mind it was an illogical, useless, discontinuous gesture. For the mind it was a pathetic waste, an unbearable injustice seeking revenge.
The oil goes down. It slides down slowly through his scalp and hair falling onto his face, stroking and gleaming on the veins of his neck reaching his shoulders. Where gravity is incapable, the agile delicate touch of the woman's hand does the rest. Every part of that body, every inch of his face and skin must be covered by that reddish transparent, precious, fragrant veil. And where the oil cannot arrive, its aroma and perfume must.
No part of that skin, of that body must be left out. The ointment and aroma must cover the body and the skin of the Holy of Holies, the Lord of the Universe. Everything, everything must be anointed because He is the anointed one, completely anointed, the Consecrated One, the Loved one of the Lover and there will be no other defense besides that anointment or besides the splendor of his divine beauty. The anointed One must be completely anointed because he has no armies or arms and he will have no other protection than the veil of nard. The anointed one has nothing other than the anointment of the Father, he does not raise his voice, he does not draw an arm. There is nothing other than the transparent, scented, rare, precious veil of nard to defend him from mankind and Satan's limitless violence.
Let her alone, don't make trouble for her, don't stop her hands, don't bother her, don't disturb her praises, don't damage the aroma. The spikenard drips down, it does its job, it covers every pore of that skin.
In a few hours the skin of my Lord will have no other defense, no other armour, no other covering, no other protection. There will be no protection against the nudity, the pushing, and the chains.
The skin of the Lord will have no defense besides that transparent, sweet oil, an imperceptible, transparent veil to protect from all the evil and violence that will come.
God is like that. Love is like that, Beauty is like that. Life is like that. That is how evil, stupidity and death  are  opposed, by means of a veil of transparent light and intoxicating fragrance that covers everything. Only for eyes that see and hearts that contemplate.
There is no other defense for pulses and ankles against the chains and the ropes. There is nothing but unguent and sweet fragrance to cover the face from blows, to defend aganst spittle, and the soldiers  who tear out his beard. Throughout the land there are no hands, eyes, words to defend or protect that head and that skull from the crown of thorns if not that veil and those drops of unguent.
The woman knows what no one else does, she loves in a way no one on earth does. The woman covers the body of the Lord with an extraordinary quantity of unguent just as the violence and the evil that break out against that person are wild and out of control.
Oil as an armor against countless blows that break, tear, bite, devastate, destroy. Oil and aroma against a scourging that in every place rips, tears, breaks, plunders skin and life, blood and breath.
An armour of unguent and of sweet perfume, is that what you thought of and wanted for your only Son, oh Father? And who can stop the tears in the face of so much grace and beauty?
An armour of oil of spikenard to cover and defend your Loved One from men's evil and anger. Drops of oil to stop rivers of blood, a veil of unguent on the ears to protect against cursing and insults. Unguent against a court gone crazy, perfume and fragrance to defend from a people who after thousands of years of religion and faith in a single God cry out: We have no king but Caesar (John 15:15).
A veil of nard on his face to defend the eyes, the nose, and the countenance of my Lord from the terrible impact with the stones of the road at every fall. A veil of unguent to defend and protect hands and feet from the nails, from the blows of the hammer, to protect from the rage that was so pointed and violent in those men who the Consecrated One had come to save.
An extraordinary quantity of precious nard for an extraordinary clash with violence, ferocity, evil, ignorance of all human history concentrated in those instants.
A clash in which the Evil one had permission to use all of the arms and armies in his possession and the Consecrated One could only use his unction, his being a Messiah of Love, the fragrance of his forgiveness, the splendor of oil in the light of the sun and of his divinity, his habit of nard.
And there was a clash. Oil, blood and tears ran together along the wood until they met with mud and stones. They slide down and Mary gathers, dries, contemplates. There was a clash. And death won. The breath of life was torn from My Lord,  the Lord of the eternal Spirt, the giver of vital breath, and he let it be. And there was a clash. The Consecated one died in his mother's arm. And there was a clash. There was massacre and death but there was something in the air that never ceased to be. It was at Gethesemani, it was in the tribunal, it was in the nostrils of Peter and Pilate. Something in the air never ceased to be, it continued in the midst of curses and spitting, the smell of a prison's rot and the acrid smell of blood, of all that blood. Something in the air never ceased to be, and it was impossible not to smell it during the scourging. It was there, everywhere, and seemed all the stronger when the blows were harder, it seemed stronger and to emanate in the air. There in the air, invisible and powerful, in the face of Pilate and Herod, in the crush of the crowd and in the dust of the way of the cross. It was impossible to cover it us even with the smell of blood and of death andestroy even the devil was helpless to suppress it.
It emanated from that cross and it could be smelled all the more when the wind blew, it filled the nose and lungs, it suffocated the mind, and made the heart and the earth tremble. Something in the air never ceased accompanying the Anointed One and the assassins: the Innocent One and the torturers. The aroma of that anointment accompanied the Lord everywhere always. Wherever Jesus went, the aroma preceded and followed, it was impossible not to smell it, everyone smelled it, it entered all noses and all lungs.
And no one could do anything about it. The perfume could not be expunged, it could not be wiped out, it was like a consecration.
The women knew, the Anointed One knew, the Father knew. The aroma of unction, the fragrance of life and of beauty has never ceased one instant to invade the earth and hearts. In the hair and clothing and the fingers of firends and enemies. A fragrance that cannot be destroyed or imprisoned or erased or nailed down. Perfume that friends and enemies of Jesus took home whether they wanted to or not. The Mother has her hands and heart full of it, she carresses her Son and in him all children and as all mothers she recognizes that face now irrecognizable, that body whose aspect is no longer human, she recognizes it by its odor, its aroma, the fragrance of unction. The irrepressible perfume of life and the invincible aroma of the resurrection.
Nard perfume forever.