Aemilia Metella Interviews Mary of Bethany

Sunlight streamed through an open window, and the gentle breeze brought the smells and noises of Larnaca Harbour into the bright and cheerful room. I sat on the edge of a couch nursing a cup of wine, wondering about the woman I had come to see. Despite interviewing many women, I was nervous to meet one of the most famous and influential of those first disciples.

As the years go by, there are fewer women and men who walked and talked with Jesus left alive. Recording their stories and experiences before we lose them has become my mission. I have waited a long time to interview one of the women who anointed Jesus’s feet, but more of that later, and I’ll let her tell you what happened. The door opened and a tall young man entered. He held the door open and placed a hand gently on a woman’s elbow to guide her towards a chair.

“Hello,” she said. “You must be Aemilia.”  

I stood and returned her smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mary, and it’s an honour to interview you.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “No, the honour is mine. I’ve read many of your interviews and feel privileged to belong to your list of exceptional women.”

The young man helped her to sit and crouched down in front of her. “Do you need anything, Grandma?” He asked in a raised voice.

“No, dear. And there’s no need to shout. I’m not deaf.”

He turned to me and smiled. “Despite her protestations,” he said, “she is deaf, and you’ll have to speak up. If you need anything, just ask.”

Mary patted his hand. “He’s a good boy, but tends to make a fuss.” He smiled and raised an eyebrow before leaving the room. “Now, what can I do for you?” Mary asked.

All the stories I’ve heard of Mary tell of her youthful exuberance in following Jesus. The woman in front of me was now deaf and needed help from her grandson. Wrinkles stood out on her forehead, and her creased hands showed a lifetime of love for her family and community. Her dedication and bravery had not diminished with the years, and I suspected the youthful exuberance had not waned either.

“Mary!” I leaned forward and spoke loud and clear. “My readers want to know about the day you anointed Jesus, but first, can you tell me how you met him?”

Her eyes closed, and a smile played across her face. When she opened them, they twinkled with the memory of that day.

“The day began like every other, unbeknown to us that it would be the day which would change our lives forever. Along with my brother, Lazarus, and sister, Martha, we lived together in a house in Bethany, near Jerusalem. Our parents had died, and it was just us three. Martha, the eldest, and still the bossiest, was sweeping the dirt from the courtyard as Jesus passed by, and she invited him in for refreshments. The moment I saw him, I knew …”

She closed her eyes and became quiet, and I wondered whether she had drifted off to sleep. “Mary, what did you know?”

“I knew there was something special about him, but none of us then knew who he really was. The knowledge of that only came later. Martha was shocked that I sat with the male disciples, and I sneaked right to the front to sit next to Jesus and looked up at him. Later, Jesus took my sister’s hand and invited her to sit with us.”

“Tell me about the night of the anointing.”

“That was much later, and before I tell you about that, I need to go back to the day Lazarus died. Losing my lovely brother was the worst day of my life. He was only nineteen, and I was seventeen and felt the grief deep inside my bones. When he got sick, Martha wrote to Jesus to ask him to return and heal him, but he delayed, and Lazarus died. We felt abandoned, but that was a lie. Jesus arrived four days later, and we could hardly believe it when he gave us back Lazarus from the dead. Oh, I could talk about that for ages, but I’ll skip forward a bit.

“Words were not enough to say thank you to Jesus and show how grateful I was and still am. Slowly, an idea formed in my mind, and I knew what I must do. To raise the money, I sold some of the jewellery saved for my dowry and bought a glass phial of spikenard. It was very expensive but worth it. On the evening of the next Sabbath, I knew what I had to do.”

She closed her eyes once more and continued to tell me about that evening. “The lamps lit up the courtyard and cast shadows around the walls, and the gentle breeze blew the leaves from the vine above our heads. I took the phial in my hands and carried it into the courtyard.”

Mary held out her hands, as she had all those years ago, and in her memory, she was there in Bethany. I dared not breathe in case I brought her back to the present.

“The disciples at Jesus’s feet moved to one side as I walked forward, and all was silent, except for the sound of the birds. Jesus did not utter a word but waited for me.” In one graceful move, she knelt and put the imaginary phial on the ground. “I knelt in front of him and took off his sandals.” All the time she was talking, Mary mimed what she did that evening. “His feet were calloused, but they were the most beautiful feet I’ve ever seen. I picked up the phial and took out the stopper, and the smell of the spikenard filled the house. I emptied half onto his right foot, rubbed it in, and dried it with my hair. Then, taking his left foot, I poured the spikenard out to the last drop and dried that one too.

“There wasn’t a sound until one discordant voice spoilt the atmosphere. It was Judas who thought I’d wasted money, but Jesus was having none of it and told him to leave me alone. Jesus said that what I’d done would never be forgotten.”

Her hands lay still on her lap as tears ran down her face and slipped off her chin.

“No one knew that evening, but that was only six days before he died, and that it would be the last Sabbath we spent together. It was not only in gratitude that I anointed him, but it was to prepare for his death and burial. Without his death, there would be no life.”

The years fell away, and she looked like the seventeen-year-old girl she once was.

“Aemilia!” her voice brought me back to the present. “Pass me the wooden box lying on the shelf.”

I stood, and wiping my eyes, took down a plain brown wooden box and, kneeling, offered it to her.

“Open it,” she whispered.

I held my breath, not even daring to hope what it contained. The lid opened smoothly and lieing on a bed of white cloth was a small green glass phial. The lingering smell of spikenard tickled my nose.

“You can take it out.”

My hands shook as I picked up the precious phial. Light from the window danced on the green and blue of the glass, and I breathed in the presence of Jesus.

“When we had to flee in a hurry, Martha said we could only take our most important things with us. I had nothing more precious than that small bottle, and I carried it all the way from Bethany.”

I have interviewed many women, and each one has left me with a sense of themselves and how important their faith is to them. But nothing has touched me more than hearing Mary speak of that evening. Taking hold of the glass phial took me to Bethany all those years ago, and I wondered what I would have done in Mary’s place. Like Mary, we are all grateful to Jesus, and we must do what we can to express our thanks to him for all he has done.

The gospels tell us four stories of women who anointed Jesus. Read my blog Who Were the Women Who Anointed Jesus.

My novel, Leaving Bethany, tells the story of Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet, but from Martha, Mary’s sister, point of view. Read the book, if you want to know how I imagined their lives before and after this story, and discover how they ended up in Larnaca.

If you liked this interview join my mailing list for a free eBook of The Aemilia Metella Interviews.

Mary of Bethany Washes Jesus’ Feet by Iain McKillop. Image Copyright. Used by permission of the artist

Estall by Pixabay

Her dedication and bravery had not diminished with the years, and I suspected the youthful exuberance had not waned either

I poured the spikenard out to the last drop

The years fell away, and she looked like the seventeen-year-old girl she once was

I breathed in the presence of Jesus

Naples National Archaeological Museum, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons