While I was studying toward ordination about 15 years ago, I wrote this poem, based on Mark 14:3-9. I was very moved by Mark’s account of the woman who anointed Jesus’ head, and Jesus’ support of her despite criticism. I came from an Anglican Diocese which still does not ordain women priests, so was seeking ordination in the Diocese of Adelaide, and I was inspired by the courage it would have taken this woman to take this priestly and prophetic action in a culture that did not empower women for religious leadership. Seeing in the lectionary that one of the Passion gospels for this Sunday started with the anointing, I remembered writing this poem and how much it meant to me at the time.
Fear and silence suggest a gesture to be traced in the space beyond. There at the table where I had no place, I shall break open, pour out and give, share with him all that I have; there at the table honour his body as though at an altar; there at the shared meal, foretell his absence, prepare him for the grave. At the crack of dawn and doom, at the once sealed mouth of the tomb, priest and prophet, I stand between two worlds, crossing the line, profligate with what I bring, turning upside down the rites of honour, anointing a king in a leper’s house, accepting a suffering messiah, God’s son in one about to die. My silence would leave him unacknowledged: this fear offers me no choice but to act on what I know. Here I proclaim, for his sake, my love without words, my grief without song. Fear and silence will not stay my hand or keep him from hearing me into gospel memory. Though I speak no name and have no voice, it is Jesus who calls me beyond myself, beyond my accustomed place. Lift up the vessel about to be broken; arise! arise and walk!
Barb, poet priest 
A powerful poem and one of my favorite stories — the “she will be remembered” is also the basis for “do this in remembrance” a few days later.
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Ironic that “she will be remembered” but her name is not mentioned, and that anointing his head turns into perfuming his feet in other versions – regarded as more lowly and feminine no doubt. So often, Mark’s gospel is more radical and surprising; i’m glad we are in the year of Mark.
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