Go In Peace

One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. ³⁷And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. ³⁸She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. ³⁹Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.” ⁴⁰Jesus spoke up and said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Teacher,” he replied, “Speak.” ⁴¹“A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. ⁴²When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?” ⁴³Simon answered, “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.” And Jesus said to him, “You have judged rightly.” ⁴⁴Then 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 bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. ⁴⁵You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. ⁴⁶You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. ⁴⁷Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” ⁴⁸Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” ⁴⁹But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” ⁵⁰And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Luke 7:36-8:3

“Go In Peace”

If you’re my friend on Facebook, you might have noticed that most of my posts over the last two weeks have either been pictures about my dg or posts about our Auburn women’s softball team—this is for two reasons: number 1. I am so proud of these amazing young women who have been tough and fun and fierce, women who have fought their tails off and made us all so proud; and 2. For a very different reason—the news of the world over the last two weeks has been so overwhelming and depressing that I’d rather focus on something happy and joyful. In the past two weeks, our news has been overtaken by some very hard, sad, and challenging stories, stories which have prompted much-needed conversation and thought, stories which have also left us trying to discern when it is appropriate to call another person out gently as opposed to leaving another person bent over with shame and oppression, stories which have prompted folks to be incredibly judgmental of each other and others’ motives, stories which have encouraged to call out another person’s sin without realizing our own. And then there are stories like ours today of 50 people slaughtered in Orlando, stories that leave us simply stunned and heartbroken.

There was the little one who somehow got away from his mom at the Cincinnati Zoo, either climbing over or falling through the gorilla exhibit. Folks all over the internet quickly blamed his mother, saying she had not paying enough attention, sending her death threats, forgetting the time they had spent with children, forgetting how easy it is for a child to let go of your grasp. People blamed the zoo folks, cursing them for their action of killing the gorilla, not even stopping to think about what an awful decision it must have been for the staff that loves their animals so much.

Two other stories about violence and sexual assault by college athletes have also dominated our news stories over the last two weeks, stories which caused collective anger and frustration—the story of a football player at another SEC school who will only sit out one game even though he violently assaulted a woman; the story of a swimmer in California who will only serve a few short months after sexually assaulting a classmate of his, and of his father who seemed to only care about the damage caused to his son instead of the life-long damage caused by his son to a young woman who may never be able to sleep a whole night again because of the assault she relives over and over again. I am heartbroken for these women, who won’t see much justice for the awful things done to them. I felt myself angry with the older men and institutions that are very guilty of enabling these younger men to hurt again. And I felt myself angry with the young men for being so stupid and thoughtless and violent, for forever changing another person’s life. But I also found myself hoping that somehow they are able to realize what they did, the damage it has caused, found myself hoping that they will find a way to seek redemption and forgiveness.

And I probably shouldn’t get started too much about our presidential election—about the hateful words used and the insults being hurled, about the tirades being thrown, about the violence that has erupted at rallies on both sides of the aisle, about the awful things we say on social media about the folks who dare disagree with us because of course we think we are right and everyone who doesn’t agree with us is wrong. Here’s what I inevitably end up thinking: “Our children are watching us. And what they are seeing is not good.”

All of this has left me wondering about the nature of sin. It has left me asking questions about shame—when shame is good and helpful, and when it is so overwhelming that it leaves us only with tears and desperation. It has left me wondering how to call out the racism and sexism and the violence of the world while also recognizing and acknowledging that I am just as prone to sin as the people and institutions causing these things. And all of this has left me pondering the very perplexing nature of God’s grace given to us in Jesus Christ. I have come with all of these questions to our Gospel lectionary reading for today, and I’m honestly still thinking about what it says to us about sin and shame and grace and love. This is one of my favorite passages of Scripture, and one that is challenging for us all. Please know that, as I attempt to muddle my way through this reading today, I’m still thinking, pondering, wondering what it means for us all. And I fully recognize that my interpretations will change as I fully take in what has happened in our country over the last few hours-the worst mass shooting in our history.

But here’s what I do think for this moment, for this day. This story tells us so much about the nature of sin and the affect it has on our lives, tells us about how much forgiveness granted can do for us. We are told from the second line of this story that this woman is a sinner. Can you imagine that being your name and identity, imagine what your life must be like if that’s how everyone knows you, if that’s what they call you? Sinner. Can you imagine the shame this woman must carry? The story doesn’t tell us what sins she has committed, but they are what identify her, and Jesus tells us that she has many. It is obvious that this woman, whatever she has done, is weighed down by her sin, brought down by constantly being called “sinner.” Whatever she has done, whatever sins she has committed and the way those sins wear on her and cause the community to react to her and shun her—all of those things have broken her, broken her to the point of desperation. She has no choice but to find Christ wherever he is, to take her chance and come into a dinner party to which she is clearly not invited, to kneel down in tears and cry onto Christ’s feet, crying so much that her tears clean the dirt off of them, drying those tears with her hair, begging for help. She asks for forgiveness with her actions as she cleanses Christ’s feet. Just as the waters of baptism claim us with the promise that we are cleansed, her actions are a plea for that same cleansing. No words are needed as her actions reflect her desire to be cleansed, to be redeemed, to be free and forgiven. And Christ grants her all of those. She has so often been named as a sinner, and now she is named as faithful. Named as forgiven. Can you imagine how freeing that must be for her? This woman is given new life by Christ, and she is a new creation who can now go in peace.

We also learn a great deal about judgment in this story, both our own judgment and Christ’s. We are told from the very beginning of the story that the dinner party is being held at the home of a Pharisee, the temple leaders who are known to strictly observe the law, the ones who are quick to call out others when they are not, the ones known to be self-righteous and sanctimonious. Simon sets the table for the people gathered and invites Christ to join them, which is lovely. He never expects a sinner to join them, a woman who has broken many of the religious laws, so much so that Simon judges her and would never even think about inviting her in. But she comes anyway, and Jesus welcomes her. Instead of recognizing this woman and celebrating the fact that this might be her only chance for redemption, Simon judges her instead—and in doing so, judges Christ: “’If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.’” In one fell swoop, Simon proclaims judgment not just on the woman, but also on Jesus for even acknowledging her. I think it’s important to note here that Jesus doesn’t walk into the house and immediately call Simon out for the sin of not extending hospitality to him. Instead, Jesus waits for Simon to commit the sin of being judgmental all on his own. And then Jesus proclaims judgment—he says,

Simon…Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven, hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.

In saying this, Christ reminds Simon the Pharisee, who deems himself to be the most righteous one around, that judgment and the lack of hospitality are just as much of a sin as any sin the woman has committed. Jesus waits for Simon to commit a sin, then for Simon to make it worse for himself as he calls out someone else for her sin before he ever proclaims a word of judgment on Simon. And Simon never gets it. The woman does, but Simon does not. She knows she has done something wrong and she acts for forgiveness, but Simon doesn’t. He never understands the need to ask or act for forgiveness. And the woman is the one who is proclaimed as faithful, the one who is given peace. Jesus reminds us here to be slow to judge, to recognize our own sin, to be quick to open our hearts and minds and homes to those who are weighed down and shameful and heavy and desperate as they recognize their own sin, as well.

Finally, I don’t think it’s an accident that this story places us around a table, around a feast where folks are invited to eat and drink. Although we are never told who else besides Christ is invited to Simon’s table, we can imagine that it’s the religious leaders like Simon who are invited, the ones who dress like him and speak like him and believe like him. We might imagine that Simon doesn’t invite much dissension or disagreement or diversity to the table. Simon doesn’t want his dinner party to be open and accessible, and he would never take the opportunity to invite those who have been deemed by their community as “sinners” to the feast. And I imagine that most of us, if not all of us, in this room would feel the same way. When I think about the news stories of our last two weeks, I think—I know—I would have a very hard time inviting men who are guilty of violent assault and sexual violence to sit next to me at the table, next to any woman I love at the table, certainly next to my niece at the table. And I certainly couldn’t invite someone who takes his anger our with an assault rifle at my table. I have to acknowledge that my dinner party might look very much like Simon’s because I don’t want to admit that I am a sinner, too. And I certainly don’t want to admit that God’s forgiveness probably extends to the very folks for whom it would be impossible for me to forgive. In a few minutes, we will sing the words, “For everyone born, a place at the table, abuser, abused, with need to forgive.” Those are some pretty tough words to sing.

But, friends, the wonderful, challenging, and awe-inspiring lesson that we learn from our Scripture today is that Christ’s table will always look very different from what our own might look like. As hard as that is to hear, it is very good news for us to hear. The woman knows she has sinned, and sinned greatly, but Christ still welcomes her and welcomes her need for forgiveness and grace. She falls to his feet and weeps on them and cleans them with love, with desperation, with hope-and out of great faith. And she is saved and forgiven, made well and made whole. She is given a new way to live, as our hymn says. She is forgiven and invited to Christ’s table. And so are we. Thanks be to God.