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Luke 7:36-50
Stephen A. Hamilton Wright
First Presbyterian Church, Wausau, Wisconsin June 13, 2010
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Jesus loves everybody. Jesus loves everybody. No one is left behind. At the same time, almost everyone loves Jesus, or at least we think we do. Maybe what we really love are our own ideas of what Jesus is. Once upon a time, a very prominent person named Simon invited Jesus to dinner. Simon was a Pharisee, part of the slightly liberal leaning wing of the Jewish establishment. That’s right—the Pharisees took a moderately progressive view of theology and social issues, and they did so thoughtfully and seriously. They were usually willing at least to consider new ways of thinking. Pharisees and Presbyterians would generally get along well. So Simon thought it would be a good idea to sit down and figure out what this new rabbi causing all the buzz was all about. But then the real Jesus actually shows up. He answers the invitation to visit a leading citizen, who has confused and perhaps questionable motives. That’s when the confusion starts, and it starts because Jesus loves everybody.
We do not love everybody. We tend to sort people by their sins. We think a lot about sin. We all love Jesus, of course, or at least we think we do. Everybody does. That’s where the trouble starts, because if we really love Jesus, we have to love the rest of his family, which includes sinners. Everybody sins, of course, but we’re talking about the really bad ones, right? But Jesus loves even the worst ones. That was a real problem for the Pharisee host, because in that day, when prominent people got together, custom allowed the less prominent to come in to discuss business or ask for favors. Most people didn’t abuse the custom; they respected social boundaries and probably wouldn’t reach more than half a rung above themselves. Certainly, no woman would come in to such an event to do business with a man. But this day, a woman in the city, a woman from the streets, came in to find Jesus. The Pharisee might have imagined that he was doing Jesus a favor, pulling His status up a bit by including Him as an honored guest, and raising his own status by landing Jesus for his own dinner show. Suddenly, though, the tables are turned. A woman from a lot lower class than Jesus steals the show by showering personal attention that borders on erotic. Simon, the host who wanted to show off Jesus, finds himself demoted, so he starts calling names. Jesus is no prophet, he tells himself, because obviously he doesn’t know what kind of woman this is—she is a sinner. That’s no secret, by the way—both the narrator and Simon call her sinner. Jesus agrees, at least that she has been a sinner previously; He says that her sins were many. The difference is that he is willing to let that part of her identity slide away, and see her in a new light. Simon is not so willing to let go, and it is hard for us, too. We are skeptical about whether people really change. It is hard for us to see past sin.
Jesus wants us to think about forgiveness. He wants us to think about love. Instead of fixing on sin, He wants us to start from the other side. Can we feel the difference? Instead of starting with judgment and sin, Jesus leapfrogs straight to love and forgiveness. He knows about the woman washing His feet. He knows that her sins have been many, and he says so. But His agenda is love, not guilt, and therefore His starting point is forgiveness. He will forgive 100% of sins, for 100% of the people, 100% of the time. The woman comes to Jesus because she feels His love. She might not understand that she is already forgiven before her own demonstration of devotion, but for her, Jesus is life. Simon is like a person running for office, in government or the church, in that he wants to be seen as a supporter of Jesus and have Jesus supporting him. For the woman, there is no such calculation, only a passionate outpouring of pure gratitude. When Simon mumbles to himself about Jesus’ failure to understand the character of the woman, Jesus answers in a way that continues to lower Simon’s status. First, Jesus assumes the role of teacher. “Simon, I have something to say to you.” Simon acknowledges the switch: “Teacher,” he replies, “speak.” Then Jesus tells about a lender and two borrowers: one owes about $30,000, and the other $3,000. The lender cancels both debts, so, Jesus asks, which borrower will love him more? Simon answers with tight lips: “I suppose the one for whom he cancelled the greater debt.” Of course. The backhanded good news is that Simon is not doing so badly; he does not have as much to be forgiven. The bad news from his point of view is that his more carefully controlled way of life does not earn higher status in God’s eyes. Jesus does not start out by sorting people according to their sins or lack of them. Jesus starts by forgiving.
That lets us look hard at ourselves. Take a hard look. The place Jesus starts gives us room to consider whether we are actually doing that well. If we take this opportunity for honesty, most of us can legitimately say that we do alright, at least on the big things. For most of us in this congregation, if we have been in trouble, it was by mistake instead of habit, and we generally recover our good status. At the same time, many of us have thoughts or feelings that do not make us proud. Most of us could be more generous, and some much more, with money, time, and attitudes toward others. We could make more time to volunteer. We could do better toward family and friends. After he opens the subject of forgiveness, Jesus invites Simon to see his own behavior in the mirror of the unnamed woman at Jesus’ feet. “Look, Simon, you invited me here as an honored guest, but you did not bother with the basics of hospitality. But what you lacked in hospitality, she has more than made up—not just water for my feet, but her tears, and her hair instead of a towel; not just a formal kiss on the cheek, but kissing my feet continually; and not ordinary olive oil for my head, but costly ointment from an expensive jar, again for my aching feet. Simon, don’t you think you ought to crank it up a little?” Do we need to crank it up? Do we really welcome Jesus into our lives? I don’t mean wearing crosses and sprinkling our talk with religious phrases, but instead the way that Jesus demonstrated: loving neighbors, welcoming foreigners, getting over attitudes that divide our culture in so many ways, and giving genuine help to people who need it, no matter what political party we generally choose. Simon was trying to have Jesus in His life without changing anything or risking anything. It doesn’t work that way. Take a hard look at Jesus. Look hard at us.
The story takes us back to forgiveness. We go back to forgiveness. The story starts because a woman with many sins in her life comes to show her love for Jesus, and it ends with Him stating explicitly that her actions arise out of gratitude: “. . . her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; for that reason she has shown great love.” It has already happened, and somehow she seems to have sensed this; at least she knows that with Jesus forgiveness may be possible. Now He makes it explicit to her: “Your sins are forgiven.” Be clear about this: it was not because of her actions in Simon’s house that she gains favor. Jesus already made that clear. Her dinnertime demonstration was the result of her freedom, not the cause. What Jesus says now is to remove any doubt from her mind. Now the other guests speak for the first time in the story, scandalized that a human being would dare to forgive sins. In their minds, only God is able to do that in the full and complete sense. But Jesus cares little for the limitations of human custom. “Your faith has saved you;” He continues, “go in peace.” Again, it is not her tears and kisses and ointment that brings this pronouncement. Rather, she had heard about Jesus sometime before, and decided that His way of compassion and mercy was her opportunity to be changed. Because of Jesus, she could stop being the woman of the streets, and become a person whose life overflows with gratitude. She is saved, not just in a spiritual sense, but from shame, humiliation and a dead-end existence right now, in the way she lives every day. That is what true forgiveness does: it opens up for new possibilities, even completely transformed life. After the prayer of confession each week, we are called to believe the good news that in Jesus Christ we are forgiven. That means that relationships can be repaired and renewed, not only with God and with Jesus, but with all people. This story ends with forgiveness, because that is where life begins.
Is there room for Jesus in our lives? That is, is there room for the real Jesus, the one who forgives everybody, and calls all people to forgiveness and reconciliation? With Jesus, the offer is 100% off, every day. Do we have room for that kind of love?