Luke 7: 36 One of the Pharisees asked him to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table. 37 And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment,
The two verses above set the scene for what may be the most beautiful and heart-wrenching encounter in our Lord’s sojourn among his creation. It’s an encounter that teaches us about love, and sacrifice, and how to bring a meaningful offering to God. I’d like to give you more of an introduction, but the power of the story is in its telling – so let’s jump in.
Jesus is invited to dine at the house of Simon the Pharisee. It’s not clear from the account where Simon lived – Galilee in all likelihood, maybe Capernaum – but it doesn’t matter. The first thing we notice – and over which we may puzzle a little – is that a woman of the city, described flatly as a sinner, simply walks into the dinner, unmolested. That may seem weird to us. But, Luke tells us that she had learned that the Savior was there, and – in the days when common houses had no great gates and locks – nothing barred her from entering upon the occasion. Often better houses had courtyards and it may have been that Simon was holding this meal in the courtyard of his home. In any case, she comes with intent, having the purpose in her heart to bring an offering to Jesus; something costly, something precious. Jesus, for his part is reclining at table according to the way and custom of the time and place, perhaps with his feet behind him.
38 and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment.
Upon entering the house and coming upon her Lord, she does something that perhaps even she, with all her sincere intentions and preparations, could not have anticipated. She completely falls to pieces. Have you ever done this? You go into a situation with high emotional potential thinking: I’ll do this. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Then, the moment arrives. And, you’re just the exact opposite of fine.
The text says she was standing behind him, but that doesn’t last. She immediately sinks to the ground, overcome; and sobbing so profusely, so unrestrainedly, that she begins to wet the Lord’s feet, with her tears. Imagine it. So, she’s washing his feet and wiping them with her own hair, kissing them and anointing them with the ointment. She has interloped upon and interrupted Simon’s dinner for this, even if things aren’t going at all according to her original imaginings. And, it’s all very shameless and awkward and cumbersome and spontaneous – and genuine. It’s a mess. But it’s an honest, heartfelt mess.
39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.”
It’s here that we begin to feel the contrast between our respectable dinner host and this sinner woman from the city. Let’s focus on this for a minute. Simon, we imagine, as a member of the Pharisaical order, was surely a meticulous observer of the Mosaic Law. We’re certain his offerings were wholly religious – well-planned and executed, accurate, appropriate, and impeccable. Nothing beyond or in addition to that. Nothing like we see from the woman, nothing spontaneous, flowing from a heart that is broken – or full of love and thanksgiving; nothing that recognizes sin or pleads for grace. So, he sits in judgment of this woman and her unsightly display. The only thing he sees is a sinner making a spectacle – and a rabbi who could not be a prophet, because, if he was, he would be telling her – to go away.
And then we turn again to the woman, who enters upon the presence of her Lord with an offering, and collapses into a pool of weeping and service – no matter that the gift was base, no matter that her deportment was inelegant, even ragged. And Jesus, we’ll come to see, loves it. Alexander MacLaren writes this of the woman and her offering: “It is little she can do, but she does it. Her full heart demands expression, and is relieved by utterance in deeds. The deeds are spontaneous, welling out at the bidding of an inward impulse, not drawn out by the force of an external command. It matters not what practical purpose they serve. The motive of them makes their glory.” Continue reading the account:
40 And Jesus answering said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” And he answered, “Say it, Teacher.” 41 “A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” 43 Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.” 44 Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. 46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. 47 Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” 48 And he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” 49 Then those who were at table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” 50 And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
It’s interesting that Luke points out that Jesus answered Simon. It’s not recorded that Simon said anything at all. But our Lord knew his thoughts and responded by telling him of a moneylender who cancels the debt of two borrowers, one who owed little – and one who owed much. He ends by asking Simon to identify which debtor would love the moneylender more. Simon’s answer betrays the reluctance of a man who has been made to pronounce reproach on himself. The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt. I suppose. Literally I take it… It’s then that Jesus turns from him and casts his gaze upon the woman, although he continues to address Simon. Do you see this woman? Did he? Simon’s prejudice – and his self-affirming pride – had not allowed him to see the beauty of what she had done, nor the love that gave it birth.
Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, Jesus says to his host, “for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” Note carefully what our Savior does here. Her great love is given by Him as the reason for her forgiveness. And, the forgiveness of her great debt of sin – is given as the reason – for her profound love. See how that subtly, but beautifully, circles back on itself, as love and grace intertwine? Again, MacLaren: “Her love and her forgiveness were mingled with each other in mutual interchange. She loved because she was forgiven; she was forgiven because she loved. Her faith and her love were one; it was ‘faith working by love’ (Galatians 5:6), and the love proved the faith. Spiritual things do not admit of the clear sequences of earthly things.”
So, we pity Simon, who is not rebuked for his exercise of precise religion, but because his religion was loveless, callous, and judgmental. We marvel at the woman, who found her Lord, determined to serve and adore him, even if that service came with the employment of her tears, and the cost of some external dignity. We see the love of Jesus as he unreservedly welcomed her offering, even though – and perhaps more so because – its full expression was accompanied by sobs, and the fumbling imperfection of pure, intense emotion. And, we feel this story. It is as raw and touching as it is helpful. Pope Gregory I wrote this, “As oft as I think over this event, I am more disposed to weep over it than to preach upon it.”
When you read this account, you may not always identify with either the woman or the Pharisee. You’ve been forgiven a massive debt of sin, but you may not constantly feel that as acutely as did the woman in this instance. You may have lived a life of piety and careful religious observance, but it has rarely, if ever, manifested itself in the kind of cold dispassion and judgmentalism we see expressed here by Simon. The beauty and power of this story, however, is how it reminds us of God’s magnificent love for heartfelt sacrifice – and the way it leans on us to examine ourselves. Then, it firmly ushers us away from Simon – and it nudges us gently towards the woman.
We know this: precision is good, obedience is necessary, but love is the foundation of all we do for our Savior. Without it, no offering we bring to him, no matter how precise, will be accepted. And, any services offered our Savior in truth, and flowing from the pure overflow of our gratitude and adoration, will be received by him – with joy – our own inelegant fumbling notwithstanding. This we learn from the woman, and from our Lord. The motive of them makes them their glory.