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The speaker is discussing the significance of Palm Sunday and the Passion Narrative in the liturgy of the Church. They focus on the opening narrative in Mark's Gospel, where a woman anoints Jesus with costly perfume. This act is seen as a symbol of generosity and devotion, mirroring Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. The speaker encourages listeners to reflect on their own acts of love and to participate actively in the events of Holy Week. Greetings, friends. What a joy to share the Gospel. With the Palm Sunday Liturgy, we enter the week the Church knows to be holy above all others. We are brought through word, ritual, action and sacrament into the heart of the mystery of Christ, the Paschal Mystery. Our Liturgy provides us with two great narratives. At its beginning, we mark Jesus' entrance into the Holy City, Jerusalem, by proclaiming the Gospel of Mark, chapter 11, verses 1 through 10. In the Liturgy of the Word itself, we proclaim the Passion Narrative. Now on Good Friday, the Church reads a second time the Passion Narrative, but then always from John's Gospel. On Palm Sunday, it is that of the Gospel of the Year. This year, Mark, chapter 14, verse 1 through chapter 15, verse 47. Because of the great length of the passage, we will share together here only the opening narrative, which I hope will be fruitful in preparing our hearts to contemplate Jesus' act of love for us on the cross. Let's take a moment now to prepare our hearts to yield to the Gospel by quieting our inner selves. If you will, take a deep breath slowly in and slowly out. Come, Lord Jesus, allow Your Holy Spirit to bring Your Word to life in me. May I hear Your voice, Good Shepherd. The ancient prayer of Lectio Divina invites us, first of all, simply to read a passage from Scripture. By reading, we become acquainted with the Word and begin to open ourselves, this is so important, to the movement of the Holy Spirit carried on the words of the Gospel. On this Passion Sunday, we read from Mark's Gospel, chapter 14, verses 1 through 9. The Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were to take place in two days' time. So the chief priests and the scribes were seeking a way to arrest Jesus by treachery and to put Him to death. They said, not during the festival, for fear that there may be a riot among the people. When Jesus was in Bethany reclining at table in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of perfumed oil, costly, genuine spikenard. She broke the alabaster jar and poured it on His head. There were some who were indignant. Why has there been this waste of perfumed oil? It could have been sold for more than three hundred days' wages and the money given to the poor. They were infuriated with her. Jesus said, Let her alone. Why do you make trouble for her? She has done a good thing for Me. The poor you will always have with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them. But you will not always have Me. She has done what she could. She has anticipated anointing My body for burial. Amen, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her. The whole Passion narrative notice begins with an account of resistance and even aggression on the part of the religious leaders against the work of God in the person of Jesus Christ. This sets a vivid, contrasting image to that which will immediately unfold in the act of this anonymous woman, and ultimately in the persistent generosity of Jesus Himself pouring out His life for love of us. Indeed, this act of anointing, as Jesus Himself points out, is a prophetic act. It stands in the line of such gestures by the great prophets of Israel, and reveals to the open heart the inner meaning of Jesus' life. The oil, as well as that jar of alabaster, is costly, precious in the extreme. So much so, the biblical scholar Mary Healy says that it might have been a family heirloom. The oil is, Mark tells us very intentionally, spikenard, the oil we hear in the Song of Songs, chapter 1, verse 12, to be the perfume of the bride worn at the banquet of the king. Love for Jesus saturates the woman's act, even as the oil saturates the head of Jesus in anointing. That word for breaking the jar is literally to shatter. The woman has given her gift irrevocably. There is no taking it back. In what she does, we encounter generosity, the total pouring out of her gifts in love and devotion to Jesus. In her, further, we are called to see the disciple's authentic response to the cross of Christ. There on the cross, Jesus breaks, shatters his body for love of us to pour out the oil of the Holy Spirit. Eternal life, mercy is given to us abundantly and poured out upon our heads. We turn now again for a second time to read our Gospel passage. Notice as we do what stands out to you, become sensitive in the reading to that word or phrase or a sense being stirred up within you. We read again Mark 14, verses 1-9. The Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were to take place in two days' time. So the chief priests and the scribes were seeking a way to arrest Jesus by treachery and to put him to death. They said, not during the festival, for fear that there may be a riot among the people. When Jesus was in Bethany reclining at table in the house of Simon the leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of perfumed oil, costly, genuine spikenard. She broke the alabaster jar and poured it on his head. There were some who were indignant. Why has there been this waste of perfumed oil? It could have been sold for more than three hundred days' wages and the money given to the poor. They were infuriated with her. Jesus said, Let her alone. Why do you make trouble for her? She has done a good thing for me. The poor you will always have with you, and whenever you wish, you can do good to them. But you will not always have me. She has done what she could. She has anticipated anointing my body for burial. Amen, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her. We have come now to the second step of Lectio Divina, which is, after reading, meditation. In meditating we pause to chew, to embrace deeply the word, phrase, that movement of the passage that has spoken most powerfully to us. What is speaking to you at this moment? For me, the precious gift of this narrative as an introduction to the passion of our Lord is that it places a call upon me personally. How easy it would be to follow Jesus' suffering and death on the cross, His act of obedient love of the Father for us, simply as a spectator. This woman and her extravagant act, disregarding what others might say about her foolishness and recklessness, becomes a witness to the foolish, reckless love of Jesus Christ for us. My life is meant to be such a witness. And it makes me wonder, where are the foolish, reckless actions of generous love present in my life? How am I pouring out my life as a sign of Jesus' love poured out on the cross? This week we call holy is not a spectacle, not merely a marking of some great historical event. This is a participation reality. In following the Church's liturgies of Holy Week, we are being invited again to enter into the saving deeds of Jesus Christ, to be taken up by them, transformed in them, becoming one with Jesus in love of God and our neighbor. Friends, let me again invite you to continue to sit with this Gospel passage. Allow this woman and her extravagant love to become a lens through which you see Jesus and His love for you. Speak with Jesus about how this story affects you now. Before leaving prayer, be sure to intentionally place the word you have received deep in your spirit where the Lord might bring it growth throughout this Holy Week. And friends, it is a joy to share the Gospel with you.