Then the dark-browed Judas spoke, uttering this time the thought of all. "But, master, what will become of us if thou givest up thy life?"
A chorus of approval burst from all the disciples, "Ah, all our hopes would then be destroyed."
"Trouble not yourselves," said Jesus, "I have power to lay down my life and I have power to take it up again. This commandment have I received of my Father."
And lo, while they were yet speaking, Mary Magdalene silently approached Jesus, carrying in her hand a bottle of ointment of spikenard, very precious, which she poured over his head as she murmured but one word, "Rabbi." And Jesus also said but one word, "Mary," but his tone was full of tenderness and love.
As the perfume of the ointment filled the room the disciples spoke among themselves. "What an exquisite odor!" said Thomas, leaning past the others to look.
"It is real oil of spikenard, very costly," said Bartholomew.
Thaddeus added, "Such an honor has never been shown to our master."
But Judas could not contain himself. He growled from his distant seat, "To what purpose is this waste? The money might have been much better expended."
"Yes," said Thomas, "I almost think so, too."
Then Magdalene, heedless of the murmurs of the disciples, knelt down and anointed Jesus' feet and wiped them with her long black tresses. Jesus, after a little while, noticing the muttering down the table, asked, "What are you saying to each other? Why do you condemn that which is done only from grateful love."