Monday, March 04, 2013

Sonnet: John 12:1-8

When last they'd met, death's stench had filled the air--
Great weeping, shock, the mood at Lazarus' tomb;
So now they host a joyful dinner where
Perfume's aroma permeates the room.
But soon this scene is one of rank commotion
For Mary's gift of pouring costly oil
Is seen by Judas not as pure devotion
But rather as a waste of time and toil.
What Judas, blind by greed, can never treasure
Is value in a Lord who dies to save.
God's grace in Jesus knows no human measure;
Her act foreshadows Easter's empty grave.
             O precious Christ, we strain to give what's due:
             The sum of all our days poured out for you.

© Phillip Martin, 2013