Much Forgiveness, Much Love
Proper 6C
Luke 7:36-8:3
6/13/10
Lorraine Ljunggren

        Most of us are familiar with Leonardo DaVinci's mural “The Last Supper.” In it is a long banquet table covered by a white table cloth looking much as one would expect the head table at a formal wedding to look today. In the painting Jesus and twelve people are sitting behind the table on which plates and bread are scattered about.

        Well, it is very unlikely the meal in today's Gospel reading would be portrayed in that way had a sketch artist been present in Simon the Pharisee's house. From everything I have read about the customs of mealtimes in Jesus' day, the host and the invited guests would, instead, be reclining around a low table. Because food was eaten with one's right hand, Simon and Jesus and the others would probably be leaning on their left elbows so that they could dip their bread into the bowls or platters containing the food. If we think about this arrangement and the probability that several, or many, guests are present, their feet would need to be pointing away from the table so the food would be within easy reach of each guest.

        It is into such a setting that an unnamed woman enters. Luke's Gospel includes many stories in which women play a major role and this one is no exception. We are told only that she lives in the city and that is a sinner – we are not told the nature or source of her sin. Historically many have tried to guess or project onto the woman a particular line of work considered sinful, but the text does not tell us.

        It is important to note that when the woman hears among her acquaintances or learns accidentally that Jesus is going to eat at Simon's house, she shows up. The doors are probably already open to the street. Any passer-by can see the meal taking place. But that she specifically comes to a house in which Jesus is eating is significant. It certainly could mean that the woman has already encountered Jesus, perhaps has already benefited from his teaching or his ministry of healing. That would also explain her willingness to violate customs of propriety by entering a house uninvited, interrupting a meal populated by men unrelated to her, of uncovering her hair in front of them, and by touching Jesus with her hair and anointing him.

        Her emotions must be running high and, if she is afraid of the potential consequences, we cannot tell that from her bold and loving actions. That the ointment she brings is in an alabaster jar tells us that whatever her life's story, she has the means to bring to Jesus a gift valued by the world's standards. It ends up points to a gift valued far beyond any worldly measure.

        The woman's profuse tears which fall on Jesus' feet could be a sign of gratitude or could be a plea for forgiveness. We are not told directly how Jesus interprets her need until near the end of the story and even then there are unanswered questions.

        Of course, Simon is stunned at the woman's presence and that she would dare to touch one of his guests, interrupting their conversation and their meal. But, we would be just as stunned if something such as this happened in our homes. We would likely think to ourselves what Jesus perceives Simon is thinking. We would be even more out of sorts when told our hospitality is lacking and having it pointed out that some stranger with a bad reputation who barges in has provided greater hospitality than we.

        But, in the midst of this, Jesus' prophetic reputation also seems to be at stake here, at least from Simon's perspective. But, as the story unfolds, it seems pretty clear that Jesus' prophetic reputation is in great shape – the parable he tells Simon is right on, causing the Pharisee to reluctantly give an answer which hits home. The point of the parable is unmistakable. 'The one to whom little is forgiven, loves little and vice versa. The one to whom much is forgiven, loves much and the one who loves much forgives much.'

        Then, as if to bring closure to the entire event, looking into the woman's tear-stained face, Jesus says so his host and all the guests can hear “...[this woman's] sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love.” (Lk. 7:47b)

        I can't help but wonder if, when finally Jesus says directly to the woman, “Your sins are forgiven,” that he says it for the benefit of those gathered for the dinner. I keep thinking that the unnamed woman comes in already knowing God's forgiveness and that her love made visible by her tears, in her anointing and kissing of Jesus' feet are her way of thanking Jesus, of thanking God from whom abundant forgiveness is always ours because God's abundant love is always ours.

        “Simon and his guests have so much and are willing to risk so little. To love is to risk.” To forgive is to risk. “And the guests are willing to do neither one. And in the end theirs is the greater sin in need of forgiveness.” (J. Melnyk, sermon 6/13/10)

        Franciscan priest and popular writer, Richard Rohr, says: “It is a mystery we are dipped into. Two-thirds of Jesus' teachings are about forgiveness. A good third of Jesus' parables are about forgiveness, directly or indirectly. Forgiveness has nothing to do with logic. It is the final breakdown of logic. It is a mystical recognition that human evil is something we are trapped by, suffering from, and participating in. It calls forth weeping, humility, and healing much more than feverish attempts to root out the evil. The transformation happens through the tears much more than through threats and punishments.” (Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer, New York: Crossroad, 2003)

        The unnamed woman of Luke's Gospel seems to know this. It is beyond logic that she does what she does when and where she does it. Jesus' forgiving response is beyond logic in that day and time and culture. Jesus' forgiving response is beyond logic in our day and time and culture as well. Jesus' generosity in forgiving often leaves us as surprised as those who originally surround him. But, then, much of Jesus' ministry is beyond logic, defying what we call the laws of nature by miraculous signs or through the wisdom which comes from his words formed either into parables or into everyday conversations, in his willingness to welcome the ministry of women and in seeking out those persons whom others pass-by or scorn.

        That we are all trapped by human evil or that we suffer its consequences seems clear enough. The challenge comes when we are its source – when our individual or collective thoughts, words, and actions, or our persistent apathy or inaction cause suffering to others. When we look at war and violence, at our abuse of this planet and our greedy consumption of her resources, whenever we stand silent in the face of hatred or bigotry or greed, we are culpable – silence is, after all, consent. And, it seems pretty clear that threats and punishment don't work – just watch the attempts to re-regulate industries once they have been de-regulated or watch how individuals and corporations jockey to avoid taking responsibility for their actions.

        Truth be told, the whole human race is in need of transformation. Perhaps it does begin with our tears, with our owning up to the fact that the evils around us break our hearts, leaving us wondering what we are to do. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who helped bring into being the Truth and Reconciliation Program in South Africa, provides us with a model of how to work through suffering caused by others in hopes of making reconciliation possible.

        Love and forgiveness are the only path forward. Love and forgiveness help bring about, first of all, our transformation, freeing us to be a transforming power and presence in our world. Our world and her people long for us to acknowledge our grief, to willingly shed tears for the suffering all around brought on by evils intended or unintended, including our own. Our world then needs us to show forth in concrete ways how the love of God which dwells in our hearts empowers us to forgive or to begin the hard work of forgiveness.

        “Theologian Marcus Borg maintains that the primary metaphor for [the] Gospel…is 'for the hatching of the heart.' He says that the heart is like an egg with a shell around it. If what is within is to live, the egg must hatch, the shell must break, the heart must be open. If it does not break, the life within dies and becomes stagnant…

        “Simon the Pharisee had heart trouble. Was his heart 'hatched' that night by the actions of Jesus and the woman [of the city]? Did the parable stab at his heart and crack it open? His response is never mentioned. One can only guess.” (H. King Oehmig)

        What we can take with us into our daily lives is the point of this Gospel story: “…whoever loves much is forgiven much...[and] whoever is forgiven much loves much.
As long as the human heart is engaged and receiving the light of God's love and forgiveness…amended life is possible.” (H. King Oehmig, 6/13/10) Amen.
        

©2010 Lorraine Ljunggren