Monday, February 11, 2013

Luke 7:36-50


Dear Luke,
Know that you are constantly in my prayers, friend, and I believe that you will come to see the light of faith shining truly in your life.  I don’t pretend for a moment that this is an easy process for you, but I see the earnestness of your struggle and I believe that God will lead you in the right direction.  The lack of peace in your life is the devil fighting for your soul, but he has been defeated, as we will discuss later, and his death throes violently claim many in this world who turn from the truth of God.  I don’t say this to strike fear into you, but know that your decision matters, and that there is a sense of urgency to it.  This side of heaven, we will never know everything about Jesus, but I believe that we know enough to commit our lives to him, and that what we will discover beyond the moment of death will overwhelm us—it will be as though we had been given only a taste of the richest honey ever, and after our death we will be lead into a chamber filled with it, and we shall laugh like children at the realization of how little we knew.
Jesus came to open our minds to God’s mission here on earth.  In the words and works of Jesus, we see God reaching out in love to those who are separated from him.  It strains the Pharisees’ understanding of him, but many who felt excluded from Judaism rejoiced at being welcomed into the family of God by a man filled with tender forgiveness.  It’s interesting to pair this next account of Jesus with the story you had related—I find that his harsh words contrast sharply with his gentle actions here, but I believe that different people need to hear a different message.  What Jesus preaches to one crowd is not displayed in the same way to the next individual.  Jesus reserves his harshest words for those who presume to know him best, while gracious displays of love are offered to those who are the farthest from him.  I believe, Luke, that the words I would hear from Jesus are different than the words you would hear.  The message of repentance and grace would be the same, but he would speak differently to me, a lifelong follower, than he would to you, a seeker.  Those of us within the church are often guilty of giving all of religion a bad name, the very reason that many, like you, avoid the church at all costs.
In this latest account, Jesus is eating in the home of a Pharisee, sitting at the Pharisee’s table.  Jesus seemed willing to eat with almost anyone, and it’s a wonderful counterbalance to those who seem to forget that Jesus was constantly sharing a meal with anyone who invited him.  These meals must have been rich in discussion, and it’s hard to imagine anyone eating with Jesus and not being converted to following him!  I know I am idealizing the scenario, but how could you not be overwhelmed by the man’s presence and wisdom?
At this particular meal a woman, known to be a sinner and rumored to be a prostitute, brought an alabaster jar of ointment to the house and stood behind Jesus weeping, her tears bathing the feet of Jesus, and the woman knelt to dry them with her hair.  While doing this, the kissed his feet and used the ointment to anoint them. 
It must have been a moment played out in silence, some too shocked to speak while others feared breaking the beauty of the moment with their words.  I can picture Jesus, receiving this woman’s tender devotion with a calm demeanor, being able to see the love within her heart and desperately hoping that so many others would worship God with the same passion.  The woman herself must have been filled with any number of emotions, from devotion and love to fear of rejection.  I doubt that she had too many concerns for the household’s opinions on her act, for this was a woman probably accustomed to harsh words and rude glares from the town’s elite.  She was there for Jesus, and the rest of the world could have fallen away at the very moment and I doubt the would have noticed.
The Pharisee, thinking his words were safe if he muttered them to himself, believed that if Jesus were truly the prophet that many claimed him to be he would know exactly where those hands, that heart, that were before him had been.  The Pharisee clearly had an incomplete picture of Jesus, for he believed that the woman’s condition of sin would make Jesus think less of her, to be ashamed of her.
Jesus spoke up to the Pharisee, and I can envision the whole household straining forth to catch his words.  I wonder if the woman listened out of fear for a rebuke.  Jesus, as he so often does, tells a story about two debtors who owe money to the same creditor.  One owes fifty days’ worth of wages, while the other owes five hundred.  Neither could pay their debts, and in response the creditor graciously forgives them both.  Jesus then looks the Pharisee in the eye and asks which one loves the creditor more.
The Pharisee answers the question clearly, even if he doesn’t grasp the meaning just yet.  He replies, “Probably the one who owed the creditor more.”
Jesus nods in affirmation, then turns to the woman.  She might have been afraid at this point, but the words of Jesus calm her fears, while perhaps stoking them in the Pharisee.
“Simon, this woman used her tears to bathe my feet and her hair to dry them, after you gave me no water for my feet.  No kiss was forthcoming from you, and yet my feet have been bathed by her kisses—indeed, she has scarcely stopped kissing them.  My head received no oil from you, and yet my feet have been anointed by this woman. Her many sins have been forgiven, and so she has shown great love.  Little love often comes from those who do not have much to forgive.”
While the Pharisee was doubtless reeling in shock at all of this, Jesus looked the woman in the eye and told her that her sins were forgiven.  If anything else was said by him following this exchange, it was probably lost at the table, for immediately all seated at the table began to wonder just who this was that forgave sins.  I wonder if Jesus was amused our saddened by the questions that were asked.  Perhaps he had hoped that others would come forth in love, and instead they were too busy debating his identity.  When the conversation died down, Jesus spoke just to the woman, “Go in peace, for you are saved by faith.”
This woman, whose debt of sin was onerous upon her, was released by her faith, not her actions.  Her actions did, however, demonstrate her great faith in Jesus.  The Pharisee and others gathered around the table seem to be more interested in debating the question of Jesus rather than taking the steps to follow him, and their self-righteousness is a constant obstacle to their discipleship.  Jesus reaches out to all and some respond.  I find it amazing the different types of interaction he has with people at different levels—here, in this story, his interaction between the Pharisee and the woman take place at different levels at the same time, and yet each hears something just for them.  Jesus knows that the Pharisee’s faith in himself is an obstacle, while the woman has no obstacles left—she has come to worship. 
It is my hope that the church would stop building our own obstacles and come to Jesus with hearts broken by our own sin, that we might be healed and sent forth in Jesus’ peace.  Instead, we seem to be more focused on debating the question of forgiveness and the place of the woman.  It is painful, and I understand why so many have thrown their hands up.  Just like the woman, however, there is hope for us yet.
May the same peace reign in your heart, Luke, as you seek your place around the table, or at his feet.
Sincerely,
Theophilus 

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