Then the mood changed. The laughing and loud talk had gradually diminished until it ceased altogether. Lazarus' sister, Mary, stood behind Jesus, and, as if in a dream, she broke open a bottle and poured its contents over his head. In waves the musky fragrance of nard invaded the room.
Most of the onlookers were embarrassed--for Jesus, for Mary, even for Lazarus as host. Judas' reaction, however, was more beyond embarrassment. He..was..furious. His eyes filled with disgust and he blurted out in a loud whisper to no one in particular, "What a waste! If she wanted to DO something she could have sold the nard and put the money in the treasury. But this?!..." And while Judas clucked and shook his head, the Magdalene watched from her vantage point in the corner, and knew the words he said didn't match the itchy fingers he hid in the folds of his cloak. Momentarily, she wondered why Jesus kept Judas as a disciple, even honoring him with the responsibility of the treasury. However, in the midst of these thoughts her attention was riveted to what Jesus was saying.
she will always be remembered."
The Magdalene shuddered in the chill, and noticed others doing the same. What did he mean, "burial?" His popularity with the people had never been greater.
Yet in her heart she knew he spoke the truth, and filled with an inexplicable sadness, she stared into the fire's dying embers and quietly wept.