June 2025

The Fragrance of Christ

Lisa Everett, Vice President of MorningStar.Charity

We opened the door of the sacristy and gingerly walked into the small church where a few dozen people from one of the poorest barrios in Havana had gathered. Word had spread and they were waiting for us to pray with them. At once my nostrils sensed the acrid odor—the accumulated scents of bodies that had not been bathed, clothes that had not been washed, teeth that had not been brushed. Far from the romantic notion of missionary work that my heart may have harbored in former days, here was the stark—and not so sweet smelling— reality. These humble, hidden people—men and women, young and old, with wounds which were obvious and wounds which were invisible to the eye—were there to receive from the Lord, through our touch, our gaze, our words, whatever He wanted to bestow on them that day. And we were there to see Christ and to serve Him in what Mother Teresa of Calcutta called the “distressing disguise” of the poorest of the poor. As Pope Francis would have put it, we were there to spread the fragrance of Christ.                                       

In a  moving address last August, Pope Francis emphasized that the fragrance of Christ flows from the fruits of the Holy Spirit, which are listed in St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control. “If we cultivate these fruits, and encounter these people,” the pope remarked, “without us realizing it, someone will smell some of the fragrance of the Spirit of Christ around us. Let us ask the Holy Spirit to make us more aware that we are anointed, anointed by him.” Pope Francis further pointed out that the very name “Christian” comes from the word “Christ” which means “anointed one.” Christians are those who have been anointed with the Holy Spirit and strive to bear into the world the fruits of His presence, spreading wherever they go the fragrance of Christ. This anointing first happens in the sacrament of baptism and is powerfully symbolized by the fragrance of the sacred chrism with which new Christians are anointed. In fact, “Christ” and “chrism” come from the same root word. If you’ve ever been to the Chrism Mass during Holy Week, you may remember that to make chrism, the bishop pours sweet-smelling balsam into a canister of olive oil, stirs it together, breathes on the mixture and then consecrates it with a beautiful prayer. Within a few minutes, the fragrance of the chrism permeates the entire church.                                                                                               

Pope Francis saw in the tender gesture of Mary of Bethany breaking the alabaster jar of costly aromatic nard and anointing the feet of Jesus, a model of how we are to spread the fragrance of Christ among the men and women of our time. “Mary of Bethany does not use the precious nard to beautify herself, but to anoint Jesus’ feet, and in this way she spreads the fragrance throughout the house. Indeed, Mark’s Gospel specifies that Mary, in order to anoint Jesus, breaks the alabaster jar containing the fragrant ointment (cf. 14:3). Evangelization occurs when we have the courage to “break” the jar containing the fragrance, breaking the “shell” that often closes us in on ourselves…. [T]he fragrance is not for beautifying ourselves but for anointing the feet of Christ, proclaiming the Gospel and serving the poor.”

There in that humble, little church that day we broke out of our comfort zone and had the privilege of anointing the feet of Christ, the least and lowliest members of his mystical Body. Our team, accompanied by a handful of Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity who lived among the poorest of the poor in their house adjoining the church, was stationed throughout the nave to welcome and to pray for each person who stood in line. At one point, a beautiful young woman with raven hair and ebony eyes approached my group. When I asked her how we could pray for her, the pain in her heart poured out on her lips. I opened my mouth and managed a few phrases of comfort in my less-than-fluent Spanish, but my mother’s heart sensed that words were not what she needed in this moment. So I opened my arms and embraced her, and she sank into my chest sobbing. I have come to see that “missionary work” is above all a ministry of presence. His presence mediated through ours. The presence of the Holy Spirit always brings healing in one way or another— sometimes physical healing, sometimes emotional healing, sometimes spiritual healing—and He did so that day as well. And the fragrance of Christ filled that small, simple church that afternoon among Havana’s poorest of the poor and left me forever changed.