“Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preached
     in the whole world, that also which this woman hath done shall be
     spoken of for a memorial of her.”—­Matt. xxvi. 13.

“It was that Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped
His feet with her hair.”—­John xi. 2.

“There is something touchingly fraternal in the momentary pleasure
which He (Christ) appears to have taken in the gift of the
alabaster box.”—­Austin Phelps.

“Her eyes are homes of silent prayer,
Nor other thought her mind admits
But, he was dead, and there he sits,
And He that brought him back is there.

“Then one deep love doth supersede
All other, when her ardent gaze
Rose from the living brother’s face,
And rests upon the life indeed.”
—­Tennyson.

That is an impressive picture drawn by Saints Matthew and Mark, of a scene in Bethany, where an unnamed woman brought a flask of ointment which she poured on the head of Jesus, thus exciting murmuring and indignation against her, who was defended by Him, with assurance of perpetual remembrance of her deed.

Yet a comparison of the accounts of these two Evangelists with the story given by John, suggest the thought that he was not satisfied with the picture.  His remembrance of the things that happened before and after that scene, his friendship for the family of Bethany, his understanding of the Master’s feelings and thoughts, his sense of justice to himself and to his fellow-disciples, the omission of an important figure in the grouping, and especially his tender sympathy for the unnamed heroine of the story—­these things demanded in his mind additions and re-touchings to make the picture complete.

Let us imagine ourselves before him while he is reading the manuscripts of Matthew and Mark, long after they were written.  He tells us of incidents, unmentioned by them, that enlarge and make clearer our view of the scene.  We note the impressions we may suppose were made on him at the time of the event, and were still fresh in his old age when he tells the story.

“I remember distinctly”—­so he might say—­“this scene in Bethany, both what these two writers report, and what they do not.  The hour was drawing near when my Lord must die.  So He had told me; but somehow I did not understand that this must be.  It seems strange to me now that I did not, as well as one of my friends did, who realized the nearness of the sad hour.  I had arrived with Him at Bethany ’where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom He raised from the dead.’  It was a great joy to meet again the friend whom I had welcomed from the tomb.”