The story in today’s Gospel reading is one with which we’re somewhat familiar. It shows up in other Gospel narratives, even if the characters are slightly different. All the same we are presented with much the same result: a woman with a less than savory reputation comes to Jesus while he is at table with important people. The woman throws herself on the mercy of Jesus, and even though the people around him are offended by the woman’s presence, Jesus receives her humility as a sign of her penitence, and accepts her fully.
There are a couple of ways we might approach this reading. One, of course, is from the point of this woman who comes to Jesus risking quite a lot. Not only does she bring expensive oil to anoint Jesus’ feet, but in doing so she crosses social and religious boundaries. So it’s no surprise when Simon the Pharisee says what he does about her reputation. All the same, this woman knew that Jesus could be found in that house, and she risked everything to be near him. Not even the religious authority, or social conventions could keep her away.
It’s really quite a lovely thing. For this woman, we can only guess at how she came to know Jesus’ reputation. Perhaps she heard something of what he taught in his travels—or maybe she witnessed one of his miracles—but for whatever the reason, she seeks Jesus. This woman’s longing is what Jesus then points out when he rebukes the Pharisees, and is exactly the reason he receives her gift of tears and oil as penance and satisfaction for her transgression. In the end, it was her response to God’s grace in Jesus which brought her.
As people who have responded to grace at some point in our own lives, it’s not hard to understand the woman’s reasoning for wanting to see Jesus. While none of us have had an experience quite like this, we nevertheless have had conversions in our hearts in response to God’s call to us.
But then we might ask ourselves where that zeal is today. What has happened to the person who could imagine nothing less than a full prayer life, and opportunity to discuss faith? It is true that we grow in spiritual maturity, but is there a chance that what we have settled into as spiritual maturity or religious modesty something more like complacency and safety? Could we ever imagine risking everything just to offer ourselves to Jesus Christ, now?
Then there is the other side of this story, which deals with Simon the Pharisee and his friends. It’s not surprising that they would recognize a woman with a bad reputation; they were the religious authority—they kept track of these things. However, in Simon’s judgment, he not only shows contempt for the woman, but Jesus as well—almost satirizing the prophetic ministry of Jesus. “Were this man truly a prophet, he would know that the woman touching him is a sinner—rabbis aren’t touched by sinners.”
While Simon is mostly right, what he misses in this moment is that this woman has offers is not only what Jesus would accept, but also what God requires—a contrite heart. But for Simon the Pharisee, and like anyone who is righteous in the sight of their religious observance, it is just too hard to see—to know whether or not this woman is for real. And more than social conventions, Simon knows the score—he’s been around long enough to know the people who will ask him for change to get food, and then buy a 40oz. Simon is probably well acquainted with every hard luck story and every down-and-outter in town. So, maybe it’s more than just the prickly hedge of social status and religious purity which gets him in trouble.
I know that this sounds familiar, because we see it here all the time. There’s no end to the phone calls and pleas for financial help without strings attached. People who would never darken the door of a church know that if they just go to the “C’s” in the yellow pages that they can find relief for their financial woes. And this is because the Church is a great target: people who say they believe in charity and good will and above all unconditional love.
But it’s not just the people who come looking for money. Maybe there are people who, while they might not have a reputation which precedes them, look different, dress different—perhaps they do not fit our framework for the “good Episcopalian type”.
My own experience in one particular Episcopal Church was like this. I know it’s a stretch of the imagination, but when I started attending the Episcopal Church I had long hair, wore sandals and jeans and t-shirts on Sunday mornings. In college, this was the norm—and there were a lot of us who were quite active in the nearby Episcopal parish. So when Charity and I moved back to Ohio after college, our first priority was to find a parish. After some searching, we found one that we felt had really good liturgy, and had a priest who seemed to have a real spiritual depth. He took to us, we took to him—but the parish had no idea what to do with me. Suddenly there was this new couple, and while the wife seemed nice, the husband really needed some work. No one but the priest spoke to us for a month or so—it was lucky that we liked the place, I guess, otherwise we would have been long gone.
Nevertheless, for all of my ‘not fitting their mold’, they later sponsored me for ordination, and here I am. How could they have known that I would discern my call to the priesthood with them? How could they have ever imagined that I would be their first ordinand put forward? Sure, there are still stories about how they “polished me up”, but the truth is that it was God who called us to be there, whether they trusted that or not.
What I think that all of us miss at some point is that God is always the one who calls us to be in community. Even more, sometimes we forget that Jesus really does have the power to forgive all of our debts, no matter how big, or how bad we think they are…
What is so powerful about the Church, as the family which Jesus has redeemed, we are a place where people only have to look in the “C’s” in the yellow pages to find relief for their financial woes. As debtors who know the score, we are a place for people who would never darken our door, but know that they can find help, no strings attached. And while we do need to be careful and discerning, we really must be a people who believe in charity, good will and unconditional love.
It’s a little easier to try and see ourselves as this woman who stops at nothing to come to Jesus—defying odds just to offer her gift. But if we understand Jesus as something of a mirror which shows us our true selves: is our reflection more like Simon the Pharisee? This isn’t judgment—after all, both debtors in the parable had been forgiven their debts. It’s just up to us to truly believe that Jesus is able and willing to truly forgive all our debts—no matter who we are…
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