Third Sunday in Pentecost

Year 3

June 17, 2007

Gospel:

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.

As most of you know, I’ve been moving.  I waited until Friday morning (I’m a procrastinator when it comes to moving) to move the last piece of furniture out of my garage apartment.  It’s an imposing piece, the prototype from a collection of fifty rift cut white oak desks that my woodworking company built a decade ago as part of the restoration of the Texas State Capitol project in Austin.  The desks are exact replicas of tables built more than a hundred years earlier by craftsmen incarcerated in the Texas prison system and designed for use by 19th century Texas state legislators.   The lowest of the low, crafting furniture for the most esteemed in the land.

This desk is my most prized physical possession, not just for the gracefulness of the turned legs or for the pleasure it gives me to run my fingers across the satiny finish, or even because of the bank of memories it holds, but because this desk is the place where I now ply my trade.  My computer usually sits atop the desk and I craft sermons, compose emails, talk on the phone, plan my days and dream of what All Saints’ is becoming. 

The desk is too big to move by myself, so just as I’ve done with every move, I enlisted the aid of a day laborer.  For reasons that aren’t clear to me – perhaps because of the economic prosperity of northwest Arkansas – or perhaps for other reasons, there doesn’t seem to be a designated place in Bentonville where workers gather to seek a day’s employment.  So I decided to try the Salvation Army. 

At the front desk I asked if someone was staying there who might be interested in helping me move a heavy piece of furniture.  In a few moments, Robert, 40ish, tall, strong, and with an enormous girth and a gentle smile, emerged from the day room and asked, “Are you needin’ some help?” 

I explained what I had in mind and he said, “Let’s go.”  As we road along together in the cab of my pickup, Robert filled me in on his life.  He had, it seems, “hit a rough patch” and was having a little trouble pulling out of it.  As we talked, I learned that the rough patch seemed to have extended over most of his life – a troubled childhood, a few scrapes with the law, a little time in prison, a history of drug and alcohol abuse, and now despite a spotty driving record – the hope of getting a job as a truck driver.  “I seem to kind of live my life a week at a time”, he said. 

We went upstairs to my apartment and I showed him the task at hand.  He looked over the piece of furniture, gliding his calloused fingers across the rubbed lacquer finish. Nodding appreciatively at the complexity of the turned legs, he turned to me and said, “That’s a bad boy desk.”

And then something extraordinary and unexpected happened.  As we picked up the desk and guided it through the apartment, down the winding stairs, and onto the truckbed – I noticed that Robert treated my desk with more gentleness and care than I could have ever imagined possible from a man so unaccustomed to kindness.  He was a man that had emerged from a brutal world with rather remarkable sensibilities.  I invited him to join us at All Saints’ and though he might appear some Sunday morning, I doubt it, - because Robert wasn’t, as he explained, “much of a church goer.”

The world, I think, would look on this man as a sinner.  And he was, no doubt, broken, as we all are. But I’m drawn to this kind of man, maybe because I too am broken and I naturally identify with the sinner.  Or maybe it’s just my reading of the gospel. But these categories of sinner and Pharisee are not really so neatly divided.

I can get pretty smug reading a Christ story like the one we found in Luke today.  Ones in which the Pharisee gets his comeuppance.  There seems some justice there and I like it when Jesus comes down on the side of justice.  Jesus praises the sinner for the love she shows and gives Simon the Pharisee a lesson in humility.  I want to say, “Now you’re talking, Jesus.  Give it to those hypocrites.”

But then, it’s when I catch myself feeling smug, cheering Jesus on, that I’m caught up short and wonder if maybe, I might be acting a little Pharisaic myself.  To begin with, let’s look at where Jesus was when the woman bearing the Alabaster jar of ointment appeared – he was having dinner in the home of Simon the Pharisee.  Jesus very appearance at the home of a Pharisee and his willingness to accept a dinner invitation indicated a mark of respect for his host. 

I have to ask myself if I am as willing to extend respect to the Porsche-driving Wal-Mart executive, whose daily decisions fly in the face of my view of what constitutes gospel.  Am I being as judgmental as the Pharisee when I withhold compassion from the rich sinner and freely give it to the poor?  While Jesus, throughout his life, showed a marked preference for the poor, he also showed compassion and love for those in positions of power and authority. 

And to whom is this parable directed?  Jesus says 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”.

Simon, the Pharisee, is not being dismissed, but taught the ways of love.  The parable isn’t told for the benefit of the woman who anointed Jesus with oil, but for the benefit, the spiritual growth of the Pharisee.  It is a reminder that Jesus teachings contained the twin messages of justice and love.  His intent in telling the story was not merely to condemn, but to illustrate for the Pharisee a new way of being.

In this gospel reading from Luke, Jesus took a situation that exemplified a religious-political issue of the day (who should eat with whom, what was considered orthodox and acceptable behavior) and turned it upside down.  When the Pharisees criticized Jesus for his failure to correctly judge the woman, Jesus responded by telling a story that shed new light on issues of economics, debt, and forgiveness.  The story was designed to capture the imagination of his listeners and provide them with a new way of seeing the world.  He offered them a fresh perspective – one grounded in God’s economy – where the currency is love.

It causes me to wonder how Jesus would respond if he found himself in the midst of a debate over immigration reform.  How much credibility would he give arguments about the economic impact of new immigrants or where he would weigh in on the side of how much documentation a worker must provide in order to feed his family?

Or in examining the war in Iraq – would Jesus’ observations take into account our desire to keep gasoline prices low? Our governments desire to establish permanent military bases in the region? Or would his evaluation of the war’s progress be measured by how much love and compassion and forgiveness we have offered.

I’m guessing that Jesus, using a yardstick of grace would, time after time, come down on the side of love and peace and forgiveness - extending an offer of hope to sinner and Pharisee alike.  We, all God’s people, are beneficiaries of God’s mercy.  The same grace that was freely given to us, we are to extend to others, the rich and the poor alike.