The room is crowded. Such is Jesus’ reputation that when Simon, a member of the Pharisee sect in Nain and its richest member, invites him to dinner everyone shows up - even those not invited. It’s a warm night and along with Simon’s other guests, some of the local-yokels find places to sit on the window ledges if only to see the famous miracle-worker maybe work his magic. After all, just a few days ago, he had wonderfully interrupted the funeral procession of the widow’s son and recalled him back to life. Perhaps tonight he will turn water into wine again like he did up in Cana to everyone’s delight and amusement.
The guest of honor reclines at the table waiting for the meal to be served. The room is generally abuzz with before dinner conversation and pleasantries. No doubt the mistress of the house can be heard hurrying along her servants who are busily putting the last touches on the fare they are about to serve. And then the room goes abruptly quiet.
Somehow the town whore has slipped in unnoticed into the small crowd that fills Simon’s dining area. That would be outrageous enough were it not for what she does next: she touches him. She is overcome with emotion and her tears fall like rain upon Jesus’ feet. She then has the temerity to let down her hair in public - a thing a Jewish woman, trolop or not, knows not to do - and kneels down and dries his feet with her long tresses. And the third thing she does tops all the rest of her indiscretions: from within the folds of her robe, she draws out a bottle of expensive perfume, no doubt purchased from her earnings, and anoints his feet. The fragrance fills the room. It would be a sweet and tender moment were the atmosphere not already tense with ire and indignation. It is only the presence of Jesus that holds back the storm.
Into this silence, Jesus begins to speak. He addresses his host and conversationally tells him a story. "Two men owed the same banker money. One owed him 500 silver coins, the other 50. The banker, however, cancelled both debts. Who’s happier?" It’s not a trick question. "Umm...I suppose the man who owed 500?" "You’re right," Jesus concurs but then he turns the table on his host and gets highly personal: "You see this woman? I showed up at your house and you could not be so polite as to offer me water for my feet but she supplied what was lacking with her tears. You did not greet me with the traditional kiss of peace on my cheek but she has showered my feet with kisses since her arrival. You gave me nothing to freshen up with and she has upstaged you with her generosity and welcome by soothing my feet with perfume. Those who have been forgiven much, love much. But those who have been forgiven little, love little."
As a person who has spent most of his life in church, this saying of Jesus bothered me for quite a long time. I mean, I was raised in church, I have never known a time in my life when I was "away". I’ve never been drunk nor high. And the only woman I’ve ever been with I’ve been married to for the last 22 years. I try to be a good person, am nice to my neighbors and always hold a door open for a woman if she happens to be entering a building at the same time as I am. What sins I have been forgiven of would be very little indeed. At least, this is what I used to think. Until one day while thinking on this passage, a light went on and I got a glimpse of the great irony that is contained in this story. Here is this unlearned woman whose life has been steeped in sin and degradation surrounded by all these guys with theological degrees and religious habits and she is the only one who has a clue of her utter need for the mercy of God. They may look pretty good on the outside but the intents and attitudes of their hearts are as wicked and perverse as the lifestyle of this woman they despise. Yet this is hidden from them because they are looking at their sin as they esteem it, not as God does.
I was 20 years old when the light went on. For a very brief moment I was given a glimpse into my heart as God sees it and was shocked by its darkness and gripped by my utter need for his grace. That’s how it is with us mortals - before we can get the Good News we need to get the bad news about ourselves first. Only then do we realize that we owe the banker at least 500 silver coins, if not more.
The night ends abruptly but with a benediction and a blessing for the one uninvited guest of the evening. "Woman, your sins are forgiven you. Go in peace." This is the blessing that all such penitents receive when enlightened by the reality of our bad-ness we grab "aholt" of the love and acceptance of God that is only found in Jesus.
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