"Do You See This Woman?"
"Do You See This Woman?"
Sermon
preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, O.A., Rector
St.
Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
June 12,
2016; Proper 6, Year C, Track 2
Episcopal
Revised Common Lectionary
(Luke 7:36-8:3)
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. And 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. She 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.
Now 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." Jesus spoke up and said to
him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he
replied, "Speak." "A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed
five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled
the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?" Simon
answered, "I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt."
And Jesus said to him, "You have judged rightly." 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 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." Then he said to her, "Your sins
are forgiven." But those who were at the table with him began to say among
themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?" And he said to the
woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
Soon
afterwards he went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the
good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, as well as some
women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called
Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod's
steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their
resources.
______________________________
This woman makes me nervous. I grew up in a polite home.
There were things you just didn't say at the table. There were so many things
you just couldn't do at the table. Crying was one of those. If you needed to
cry, you left the table. And in all the years of sitting at dinner tables, in
my polite homes or in the homes of other similarly polite friends, never has a
woman come to our dinner table, washed a diner's feet with fine ointment and
tears, wiping and drying them with her hair, weeping and openly displaying powerful
emotions and deep, vulnerable feelings. People like that just don’t show up at my
dinner parties. I don't know what I would do if that happened. I probably would
be just dumbstruck, as it appears the host Simon is in this story.
I think I can understand a bit of what Simon may have been
going through. As Luke sets the story, we are early in Jesus' ministry. Jesus is
stirring up some notoriety in some of the villages. He has received mixed
reviews in his hometown Nazareth, where some were amazed at the authority of
his speech. But there were others who were offended that he performed no
miracles, and he even seemed to insult his own people, talking about the
ancient prophets Elijah and Elisha performing miracles for the benefit of foreigners.
There are stories circulating about Jesus' healings and exorcisms in Capernaum,
and stories from other villages where he supposedly cured a leper and a
paralytic. Back in Capernaum it was said that he healed the Roman Centurion's
slave and raised a widow's only son from death.
His teaching was inspiring some. "Blessed are you who
are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, …who
weep now… But woe to you who are rich, …[and] full. …Woe to you when all speak
well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets."
Bold words. Challenging teaching. Is Jesus the real thing? Or is he just another
in a long string of religious charlatans? Simon wants to know.
Simon is a member of the party of the Pharisees. Most of us
would be comfortable with the Pharisees. They were the nice, polite, proper
people in town. They were the religiously observant, like us. After all, we're
the ones in church today, aren't we? Not like those other sinners in
Fayetteville, doing Lord-only-knows-what out there. Simon was like us; a good
person. A curious person. He heard about the new, controversial rabbi, so he
invited the young teacher to dinner. In a nice, comfortable setting around a
richly laden table, Simon and his friends could get to know the new rabbi, ask
him questions, decide where Jesus fits in the scheme of things. Is Jesus worthy
of acceptance and respect, or is he false, flawed, unworthy. It is a night for discernment.
So everyone was in their proper place. Simon, the host. His
excellent friends, respectable people worthy of the table of an important
Pharisee. And the object of interest, the oddity – Jesus, the new, young rabbi
who was making waves. I imagine they thought that this dinner might be Jesus' opportunity
for his big break. If he made a good impression on this group, he could improve
his reputation and maybe even gain some important patrons. It was probably not
an oversight that Simon and his domestic staff didn't offer to wash Jesus'
feet. Jesus was more like the night's entertainment than the guest of honor. So
they settled in to the various courses of food for a promising evening.
And then the nice, respectable comfort of a well-ordered
dinner party got upended. The woman with the alabaster jar. Unnamed, unwelcome.
Luke describes her as "a woman in the city who was a sinner." It
wasn't hard for her to walk in. Great meals in those days were held in an open
courtyard, easily seen and easily accessed. A meal like this was a public
event. And the guests reclined in a leisurely manner around the table, so their
feet were extended behind them. She walks right in, keels beside Jesus, pours
fragrant ointment over his feet and lets down her hair. Scandalous behavior! Especially
in the Middle East with its careful customs protecting inappropriate touch and
the covering of women's hair.
Imagine the scene as she kisses his feet and caresses them
with her hair. I'll bet the conversation stopped cold. It began to feel
uncomfortably hot in there. Some of the diners reached for water, or wine. Did
they look? Or did they avert their eyes? You know, Jesus never made things easy
on people. I can imagine him catching Simon's eyes and fixing his gaze on his
host as this woman weeps and kisses and wipes his feet.
Simon's carefully prepared party has devolved. He's angry.
Now he knows; Jesus is no prophet. If he were, he would have known what kind of
woman this is. No prophet would allow such outrage.
Essayist Debi Thomas says, "Simon needs Jesus to remain
'a prophet,' and the woman to remain 'a sinner.' His own identity – 'a
Pharisee' – depends on every other identity at his table remaining fixed. But
this is exactly what the woman unhinges when her body enters the room. With her
hair, her tears, her touch, she forces each guest back into his own skin. With
her more perfect, more radical, and more offensive hospitality – a hospitality
attentive to mind, soul, and body –
she confronts everyone in the room with their common humanity."[i]
Jesus challenges Simon:
"Do you see this woman?" No, Simon has never seen this woman, except
within his comfortable categories of identity. Simon? Pharisee. That woman?
Sinner.
"Do you see this woman?" Jesus challenges Simon. Look
at her! She is just like you! Except that she is capable of loving
extravagantly. "Do you see this woman?" She is just like you! Except
that she is full of the extravagant freedom that comes from rejoicing deeply
that you are forgiven, loved and free. "Do you see this woman?" She
is not just a category in your comfortable schemes of Pharisee, prophet and
sinner. She is God's own beloved child, and she feels it deeply enough in her
bones that she can express her loving gratitude extravagantly in her body. Simon,
you can't do that, can you?
No, I can't do that either, Simon. I'm an Episcopalian. We
do things decently and in order. God bless us.
But I hope I can see that woman whenever she appears to us as
she does in so many guises in our 21st century. I hope I can see
her, and not just leave her in those categories of judgment that blind me,
those identity boxes that we put others into, those identity boxes that we put
ourselves into. I hope that when I see her I can smile and be glad at her
extravagant expressions of passionate gladness, and not just be embarrassed or
judgmental.
And one more thing. As I pray and as I live, I hope I can
express in my quiet, Episcopalian way some of the passion that I know is there in
my body – the passion of gladness for the forgiveness and love that makes us
all free.
_______________________________
The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and
celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.
For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and its life and
mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373
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