by esther robinson
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Like a rescue dog, Mary suddenly sensed something strange. “My seventh sense says he is likely to be killed.” She closed her eyes to ward off this dreadful thought and heaved a sigh. Although she forced herself into concentrating on the domestic chores yet that thought kept slashing the shores of her mind. Repeatedly she rebuked. “Get out of me you fearful thought.”
Just then a secret messenger arrived. “Mary! You are invited for a very special get-together with the Boss today. Quite a prominent crowd is expected. A trail of his followers may not allow you to meet him in person. Therefore, arrive at our usual place near the seacoast today as soon as possible. A few more are still left in my list. I ought to convey this message immediately. Therefore, good bye for now and hope to see you at the meeting point.” Having spoken at a stretch, the messenger vanished leaving Mary lost in thoughts.
“The Boss is coming? Dear me! I just now thought of him. A hundred thousands yearn for a glimpse of his calm countenance. Yet, a handful aristocratic traditional big heads unaware of his authority remark his lowly birth into a family of craftsmen considering him as a revolutionary figure call him ‘rebel’. I cannot take him for granted. The time is now. Let come what may. Something keeps telling me that he is not going to live for a long time from now on this earth. He is special to me. What shall I, after all a woman do? His party men have done nothing worthy for him as far as I know. I should do something, something unique before he is physically no more.
What if men say that I have done something traditionally wrong? Perhaps they may call me a spendthrift – a ring in the snout of a pig. It truly took years of hard work to buy this coveted brand of costly foreign product. Let the world not know precisely about all these personal facts pertaining to me. Away with you worthless worries. The world need not appreciate my work. People will surely criticize me sharply. I care a damn for they are mere mortals breathing through their nostrils. My first best is always for my Boss. I feel deep down that my Boss will understand the melancholy in my heart.”
With this thought, she opened a casket buried in a crevice. She took the flask close to her heart, felt the fragrant fluid within without opening it. A bubble appeared in the bottle and disappeared feeling her hug. Her eyes became wet. Once again the intuitions came alive. “Mary! He is going to be brutally killed very soon. Just like this bubble he will disappear. Prepare him for the burial.” Tugging it in the folds of her flowing raiment, with tears welling her eyes she hurried down the lane to meet her Boss in the house of Simon the leper.
She broke open the bottle and poured the oil on the head of her Boss. A soothing aroma arose and started spreading across the whole house. It attracted everyone’s attention to the Boss at the table and Mary at his feet. As expected, many of His followers were indignant while others did chop her heart into pieces like a butcher with their words. However, the Boss perfectly understood the contents of her heart.
Peace and panic together reigned causing tears to trickle down her cheeks. Very shortly, her intuitions did come true. They mercilessly murdered him. For three days panic controlled peace but the Prince of Peace conquered death. Thereafter, Mary knew He is the Everlasting One. The immortal intuition bid adieu never to come again.
Mary silently spelled out those golden words itched in the tablet of her heart and they ricocheted. “Why trouble this woman? She has done good work for me. The poor with you remain always, but I you do not have always. She has done what she could. She has come beforehand (by an intuition) to anoint My body for burial. She will be remembered wherever I am spoken about.” Matthew 26:6-13; Luke 14:3-9
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