2 Pentecost C
Luke 7:36-8:3
June 13, 2004

The summer months are a great time to entertain, don’t you think? The warm weather brings with it the opportunity to gather with friends and family for backyard barbeques, picnics and other casual meals. The food somehow tastes better outside, and everyone seems more relaxed and able to enjoy each other’s company. And that’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it? The people we choose to share good times with are ultimately more important than the food we gather to eat. And so we’re careful about whom we invite, choosing those whom we like—those who both like us, and who are like us.

Back in the days of Jesus, the rules of table fellowship, that is, who ate with who, were very strict. Only those with the same religious background and social standing ate together. It was a way of establishing boundaries between groups of people, and of maintaining the social hierarchy. Strict rules of hospitality applied. Invited guests were shown that they were welcome when the host greeted them with a kiss, offered them cool water to refresh their hot, tired feet, and anointed their heads with oil.

Today’s Gospel text finds Jesus as the invited guest at the home of a man named Simon, a Pharisee.  Nothing about that seems out of the ordinary. Both Jesus and Simon were observant Jews. They shared the same religion, and the same dietary regulations. As a Pharisee, Simon was considered an expert on the Law, and was thought of as a very religious person. Jesus was a religious person, too—a teacher, whose reputation had earned him the title of Rabbi. So we have what appears to be a proper dinner party, where two religious leaders, seemingly very much alike, are gathered together for a meal. Then something happens, that shows us how different they really are.

An uninvited guest appears on the scene, a First Century party crasher. She is described as “a woman of the city” and “a sinner”. We can assume that she was a woman with a bad reputation, though Luke doesn’t tell us what her sin is. He lets our own sinful minds fill in the blank, jumping to the same kind of conclusion that Simon the Pharisee does when he observes the woman’s behavior.

What began as a proper dinner party takes on a different tone as this “woman of the city” weeps at the feet of Jesus. She uses her tears to bathe his feet and lets down her hair as a towel. She continues by kissing and anointing his feet. You have to admit that it is rather shocking behavior. Simon the Pharisee, being a very religious person, immediately passes judgment on the woman—labeling her as a sinner. Then, in a stage whisper to the others at the table, he passes judgment on Jesus, too; “If this man were really a prophet, he’d know that this woman is a sinner, and wouldn’t allow her to touch him.”

I’m guessing that Jesus heard Simon’s remark as well, because he responds with a parable that brilliantly exposes Simon—who fancies himself as a righteous judge—for what he really is—a phony and a sinner.

 Jesus tells the parable of the two debtors, one who owed a creditor 500 denarii, and the other who owed fifty denarii. Remember that a denarius is about a day’s wages. So the guy who owes 500 is in deep—to the tune of about a year and a half’s wages. Neither of the debtors is able to pay, and instead of charging them a late fee or throwing them in jail, the gracious creditor forgives their debts. Cancels them. Amazing.

Now Simon is asked to interpret the parable. Which of the two, Jesus asks, will love the creditor more? Well, that’s not too hard—the one who owed the most. The one who has been forgiven the most. That’s the answer you or I would give. And it’s the answer Simon the Pharisee gives.

Jesus then turns to the woman who has shown him such love. She knew her sins were many. And she acknowledged her need for forgiveness.  Because her debt was great, she lavished great love on the one who forgave her debt. Simon must be feeling pretty smug by now. So far, he has pointed out to his other guests that Jesus is unlikely to be the prophet people say he is. And he has proclaimed his righteousness under the Law by pointing out that the righteous do not allow sinners to touch them. Now he has answered Jesus’ riddle correctly, and it looks as though Jesus is implying that because the woman showed him such love, she must be like the debtor in the parable—the one who had the greatest debt. She’s the one in the room who is the biggest sinner. Well, Simon is in for a surprise. Jesus is on to him.

Why do you suppose Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus the Itinerant Preacher to dinner? Was it because he respected Jesus as an equal, as someone who belonged at his table? Somehow I don’t think so. I think he invited Jesus in order to make a fool out of him, and in the process, made a fool out of himself. I don’t think that Simon really welcomed Jesus, because as Jesus points out, he failed to show the hospitality required of hosts—remember, honored guests are to be greeted with a kiss, have their feet washed, and be anointed with oil. Simon, the righteous Pharisee, did none of these things for Jesus. Instead, a woman whom Simon labeled as a sinner performed the duties of a gracious host. Now who is the greater sinner? The one who acknowledges her sin and seeks forgiveness, or the one whose own self-righteousness blinds him to the fact that he even IS a sinner?

The parables of Jesus demand a lot of those who hear them. They are not the simple teaching stories that they appear to be. Rather than teaching morals or ethics, they often convict those who think that they are more moral or ethical than others. Parables often judge the judges.

Parables demand that we put ourselves into the story, and try to figure out, based on our own behavior, which of the characters we would be. I’ll tell you who I’d be. I’d be Simon the Pharisee. After all, as your pastor, I’m supposed to be a religious expert. But then again, the Pharisees were not priests—they weren’t ordained by the religious establishment. They were instead pious lay people, like all of you—so perhaps you could be Simon in this story. You’re the ones who got out of bed this morning and came to church. You are, after all, good at being religious.

And so let me put it to you, as Jesus put it to Simon; how does it feel to encounter the graciousness of God, the grace of a loving forgiving God, when that gracious is showered not on the religious, but on someone who is a sinner, an outsider, not one of us?  Grace is amazing, as we love to sing. Yet when God’s grace is shown towards someone else, it can be maddening. The word grace is a sweet, beautiful word. Yet when that word is laid on someone whom we consider ourselves superior to, some sinner, well—how does grace sound now?

Those of us who are good at being religious are also good—probably too good, at judging those whom we consider to be less religious, or less deserving of God’s grace than we are. That was Simon the Pharisee’s mistake. And in judging the woman who came to Jesus, admitting her sin, he exposed his own.

God’s grace is downright offensive to those who think it belongs only to them. That, perhaps is what makes it so amazing.

Like Simon the Pharisee, today, as every Sunday, we have invited Jesus to dinner. What kind of hosts will we be as he joins us at the Communion table? If we wish to welcome him, then we must welcome any and all who wish to join us at the table, as Jesus excluded no one. This is not just a meal for the religious elect, but is a meal meant for sinners being forgiven.

As Jesus demonstrated at the house of Simon the Pharisee, grace is not some doctrine to be believed—rather, it is a feast to be received, a party to which the outcast are invited, a gift to be received with empty hands. We come to the table as graced sinners, everyone of us with a great debt to be forgiven. May our response to God’s amazing grace be like that of the woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and dried them with her hair—an outpouring of love and gratitude to the one who stoops down to save such wretches as us. AMEN

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