It was shortly after Lazarus had been brought back to life.   His sister, Mary, lovingly anointed Jesus with oil.    The aroma of expensive nard filled the room.   I wondered why Mary was bestowing this honor on my boy.  The use of such oil was reserved for those deserving special honor.  It was also used for burial.

There was one in the room who thought it a complete waste.   Judas was the disciple who took care of the finances for the group, so it was like him to be thinking that way.  He said the oil should be sold for money to give to the poor.  Somehow I had the feeling that his concern wasn’t for the poor.  There was something about Judas that didn’t sit right with me.

The old prophesies started to fill my mind.  The prophet Zechariah had spoken about the Messiah coming from the Mount of Olives.  He spoke of him riding into Jerusalem on a lowly beast of burden – a donkey.  This wasn’t the warhorse you’d expect a great king to ride, but the Messiah wasn’t a warrior.  He would called the Prince of Peace.  I couldn’t help remembering stories of King David and his entry into the holy city.  He danced through the streets in triumph as crowds cheered.  Would my boy be welcomed in such a way?

It was the day before we were to go to Jerusalem for the Passover celebration.  He sent two of his followers out in search of the foal of a donkey, which he would use to ride into the city.

The scent of the aromatic oil filled the air.  I was starting to understand what was about to come.  My heart grew heavy, but I knew that it had to be this way.

The journey was now well underway.