Saturday, June 11, 2016

"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.

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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.



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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

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