Comments for Jim

Sunday, June 14, 1998

Jim Todhunter

"Loving Much, Forgiven Much"

Psalm 32; Luke 36-50

How are our sins forgiven? How does that really work? Perhaps a simple formula comes to mind. Here is God - lawgiver and judge. Here am I a sinner. The fact that I have sinned comes to my attention - either someone points this out to me, or perhaps my guilty conscience stirs up remorse. Now fully aware of my transgression, I seek out God. Abjectly crawling forward before his throne I confess my sin. God considers the content of my confession and the sincerity with which it is offered. God pronounces my sin forgiven, tells me what restitution is required, and I am called to go forth and not do it again. That's the process. In some Christian variations on this theme, our initial plea is directed to Jesus, who then gets God the Father's attention, and makes my case for me, smoothing the process. That is pretty much how it works. (Somehow in this I am reminded of the process we went through when my son got a speeding ticket in the State of North Carolina. But that's another story.)

The point of the story about Jesus and the story Jesus tells in Luke's Gospel is simply this: It doesn't work that way at all, everything I've said. It is really quite different.

How forgiveness of sin really works is shown in the story, which I would now like to look at more closely. Amid the throng of guests at the dinner party, there are three main characters: Jesus, Simon the Pharisee, and the woman. Who are these people anyway? Jesus is a totally uncredentialed wandering teacher who has gained quite a following. Simon is a wealthy, respected religious leader in his community. He knows how to draw up a good guest list and is skilled at the strategic art of entertaining. Jesus has been invited because Simon has determined Jesus is a prophet, therefore a highly prized guest to have. The woman is most likely a gate crashing prostitute. Luke refers to her as a woman of the city (a euphemism for prostitute). Also if a woman let her hair down in public, that was a sign that she was a prostitute looking for customers. Christian tradition has identified her with Mary Magdalene, though that is only conjecture.

What happens? Jesus is reclining at table on a low sofa in the oriental fashion, leaning on his elbow with his feet stretched out behind him. Without warning the woman comes in and standing behind Jesus bursts into tears, washes his feet with her tears, wipes them with her long hair, and anoints him. This is a traditional act of hospitality - but it is infused with such excess, such passion, such intensity, such gratitude. It is an act brimming with appreciation and adoration.

Simon the Pharisee, observing all this, mutters to himself a telling observation. He says "He must not be a prophet after all if he doesn't see what kind of person this woman is." In other words, "Doesn't Jesus see that this woman is of a different class altogether, does not belong here, is a sinner and therefore of a far different order of quality than, well, me and my fine guests. Boy, have I made a mistake."

Overhearing him, Jesus says, good rabb1 that he is, "Simon, let me tell you a story." So he tells the story of the creditor and the two debtors, one with the big debt and one with the little debt, but he forgives both. Now, I can just see Simon saying to himself, smiling through his teeth, "What does this story have to do with anything? The issue is how to get this woman out of here." Jesus concludes his story with the question "Which will love him more?" "Alright, I'll play along with you," says Simon to himself. "The one, I suppose, to whom he forgave more." "Excellent," says Jesus, "You make 'A"'.

Then Jesus lets him have it.

The message to Simon is unavoidable. This woman of the street, this lowest of the low, knows more about real hospitality and appreciation than you, master of etiquette and protocol. This low class person is putting you, a high class person to shame in what really matters. This is a stinging rebuke that lays bare all of Simon's hypocrisy, the self-serving nature of his hosting, his smug self-assurance, and even his self-delusion.

But, there is more. This is not just a lesson in manners. It is much more. Jesus says, and here's the point, "Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many (as everyone, including Jesus could readily discern), her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much..." You see this story is only indirectly about hospitality, class, or the status of women. It is really about how sin is forgiven.

Remember that little formula, the process I described at the beginning? Approaching the throne, confessing one's sins, etc. That is not the way it works. How does it work? Jesus has shown us. How was this very sinful woman forgiven? By loving much. Forget about the process, or the order. Simon understood all that It began this way. The woman realized that she was in the presence of God. We don't know exactly how. Maybe she heard Jesus preach. Maybe she figured out he was the Messiah. Maybe she had been told or sensed he was the Son of God. Maybe it was a desperate gamble. But the point is that to her Jesus wasn't just another interesting prophet to invite to supper to amuse one's guests. Somehow somehow she knew she was in the presence of the Holy, and she experienced healing. Her showering of attention on Jesus was in no way a begging for forgiveness, an abject groveling before the throne of grace. It was instead a totally enthusiastic and generous outpouring of adoration and gratitude - all the more passionate because she knew that he knew what a sinner she really was. "Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much." "But," Jesus adds, "one who is forgiven little, loves little." (It doesn't matter which comes first. The dynamic is one.) And turning to the woman Jesus says, "Your sins are forgiven." With these words he is not pronouncing absolution or waving some kind of cleansing wand. Instead he is stating an obvious fait accomplis. "Your sins have already been forgiven. Your expression of spontaneous adoration shows that. You couldn't do that if you were still in bondage to sin. You'd be like our friend Simon here, who doesn't get it at all. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace." we might add, incidentally, that the rest of the quests didn't get it either. They mutter "'Who does he think he is to forgive sins"

Do you see how this story turns the little religious formula upside down and inside out? The absolute and indispensable center of faith and forgiveness of sins is recognizing the Christ, discerning the presence of God, and responding to that presence with joy, adoration, and appreciation. In that recognition and response is healing and new life. And the depth of that joy, the intensity of that adoration, and the radiance of that appreciation is directly related to how much we have been forgiven.

How do we have this experience? Where do we find and encounter Chtlst? We find the Christ everywhere. We encounter the Holy One in each person we meet - even, as the story shows, the most unlikely. So be careful who you look down your nose at. We can even find the Christ in the most unlikely of places - in our own hearts. Before the prodigal son came home, he first came to himself. We may find the Christ in that inner person in each of us, that person we are not sure we can love or trust.

It is that encounter with the Christ, whether you call it a personal relationship with Jesus, or an experience of the Holy, or the divine entering our lives through interpersonal relationships, or the beauty of nature, or the experience of being loved and accepted in spite of ourselves - however it happens, it is that connection that becomes healing, empowering, transforming, liberating. And the feelings that it stirs are appreciation and adoration and joy. That is what the woman in the story shows us. The best saints are indeed made from the worst sinners. In that truth alone there is hope for us all. Amen.

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