Lent 24: Wednesday in Holy Week: Unnamed Women

There was a certain moment when it was pointed out to me that many--most--of the women in scripture are unnamed.

I don't know why I'd never noticed that before. I suppose I had been stuck for a while on all the Marys... gosh, there are a lot. Of. Marys.

Mary Magdalene, of course. (Not a prostitute. For the record. Premier witness to the resurrection, and a woman to boot.)

Mary the mother of Jesus. (Probably should have mentioned her first?)

Mary of Bethany, also sister of Martha. (Not the same as Mary Magdalene. Also not a prostitute.)

"The other Mary" (from Matthew's resurrection account). We know she's not Magdalene, and she's most not likely an "other" if Jesus' mother. She might be....

Mary the mother of James. (From Mark's and Luke's resurrection accounts.)

Mary (actually, the Aramaic version of Maryam/ Miriam) was the most popular name for women during the New Testament period.

So, lotsa Marys.

But back to my original point: there are many, many women in (both testaments of) scripture whose names we never know. And for a long time, I assumed that it was because they were not considered important enough to remember.

On Wednesday of Holy Week, one anointed Jesus.

While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” ~Mark 14:3-8

There are four accounts of Jesus being anointed in scripture, three of them in Bethany, where Jesus often stayed. And yes, there is an account of Jesus being anointed by Mary of Bethany, but: the woman in this story is not identified as Mary; and the woman in this story anoints Jesus' head, whereas Mary anoints his feet.

It is Holy Week. Of course, she doesn't know that in the same way modern readers of the New Testament know it-- the context from start to finish. But she may well know that Jesus made somewhat of a splash riding into Jerusalem-town on a donkey a couple of days ago. She may well know that, since then, he has both raised a ruckus in the temple by throwing out the money-changers and dove-sellers, AND by preaching/ parable-ing provocatively there. Jesus is certainly aware of the the perilous position he finds himself in.

Is it possible that this unnamed woman is, too? Does she know she may have just this one opportunity to give him a precious gift, to express her appreciation for him, to show him love?

Is it possible she is, indeed, anointing him for his burial?

I have been thinking about those times when we say our last goodbyes. Five years ago this month I flew to Wyoming on Easter Monday to see my dad for the last time. I didn't know that for certain. But I did know the likelihood of another such trip, even within the same year, was unlikely. And he was failing... anyone could see that. The difference in his condition since I'd last seen him (five months earlier) was significant. My brother and sister-in-law and niece and nephew were caring for him perfectly, beautifully, loving him with everything they had, but death was coming anyway, as it does.

Death comes. Sometimes we are well aware of that fact, and other times we are caught by surprise-- shocked, even.

I have been thinking about this nameless woman who anoints Jesus, much as the celebrated anointing in Psalm 133:

How very good and pleasant it is
    when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
    running down over the collar of his robes.
It is like the dew of Hermon,
    which falls on the mountains of Zion.
For there the Lord ordained his blessing,
    life forevermore.

Jesus is among friends. He is experiencing, possibly, that unity of kin... that feeling of oneness we have in perfect company, when the food and the wine and the conversation and the smiles are all real and unforced and joyfully shared. It is blessing forevermore. Even unto death.

The unnamed woman is celebrating the moment, a moment which may or may not precede a death. (It does.) And maybe her lack of a name isn't, as I once suspected, about her being considered unimportant, or not worth recalling. Maybe her lack of name allows us to name her as we need to-- to see ourselves in her, to see in her the ones we love.

Today I'll call her Patricia. Today I'll pray that I have the nerve and the wisdom to show love extravagantly the next time I have the opportunity, at a moment which may or may not precede a death. But a moment which will, nevertheless, be blessed forevermore.