Thirty Coins

Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus' honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with Him.

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus' feet and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray Him, objected, "Why wasn't this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year's wages." He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

"Leave her alone," Jesus replied. "It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of My burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have Me."

(John 12:1-8)

.

Trust made me His money-keeper.
Trusting Him, I dug in deeper,
Till He met the woman-weeper.
Ointment could have been much cheaper!
Compassion threw our funds away.
I wouldn't give them the time of day,
But He met every one someway.
And I felt like a stowaway.

Thirty years, He walked our land.
Thirty times, I tried to stand.
Thirty coins, placed in my hand.
Toss them all in no-man's land.

He should have broken Caesar's yoke.
He could have sent some holy smoke.
He might have stopped them with one stroke,
But we've become a common joke.
I wonder: is He who He said?
Can wars be won without bloodshed?
Or are His teachings all misread?
Can someone rise up from the dead?

Thirty years, He walked our land.
Thirty times, I tried to stand.
Thirty coins, placed in my hand.
Toss them all in no-man's land.

I'll tell them now; I have no doubt.
Perhaps a trial will flush Him out.
Perhaps the council is devout.
But wait! Why doesn't He cry out?
The scorpion is poised to sting.
A hammer's raised and starts to swing.
Could it be, He is the King?
Have I missed out on everything?

Thirty years, He walked our land.
Thirty times, I tried to stand.
Thirty coins, placed in my hand.
Toss them all in no-man's land.