Sermon Transcript: February 23, 2025

Our scripture passage this morning comes to us from Luke, chapter 7. If that sounds familiar to you, it’s because this is our third straight week in Luke, chapter 7—we are squeezing all of the juice out of this orange!

Another thing that might be familiar to you is this story in general. But I offer a word of caution: although this is one of only a few stories that appear in all four Gospels, Luke tells it very differently than the others. So my instruction to you this morning is, if you recognize this story, forget everything you think you know about it. Set those ideas aside, because Luke’s version is very different—not just in details, but even in where Luke places it within the gospel narrative. Listen today with fresh ears.

I also want to clarify two points regarding the people we meet in this passage, as it can sometimes cause confusion. First, you’ll meet a man named Simon. You might think, “Well, we’ve met Simon before. We know Simon; he’s one of Jesus’ disciples.” But this is a different Simon—same name, different person. This Simon is a Pharisee.

Secondly—and this relates again to any familiarity you might have with this story—the woman in this passage is not Mary Magdalene. Luke specifically does not identify this woman, whereas other gospel writers, in their telling of similar stories, either name her or identify her as a prostitute. Luke intentionally does not. Therefore, we don’t want to immediately assume, based on the other accounts, that Luke means for this to be the same person. In fact, as I’ll discuss later, I believe Luke leaves her identity ambiguous for a very intentional reason.

With that context in mind, let us listen now to Luke 7: 36-50:

One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and when he went into the Pharisee’s house he reclined to dine. 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, 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 moneylender 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 many sins 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?” But he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

For the Word of God in scripture,
for the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

Who is she? Luke doesn’t really tell us. We are not told her name, only that she is a sinner. We are also not told whether she was invited to the dinner or if she is crashing the party. Did she sneak in or is she part of the household staff? Washing a guest’s feet was a common act of hospitality, the ancient equivalent of a coat check. It was customary for hosts to greet their guests with a kiss, have a servant wash their feet and maybe even anoint them with oil. This was what hospitality looked like in Jesus’ day.

So it is not so much the what that causes a scene, but the how and the who. It is not that she washes Jesus’ feet, but that she, a known sinner, does so with her tears, and dries them with her hair and uses costly ointment. It is the extravagance of the act, the familiarity, the over the top effusive nature of her behavior that draws the host’s attention and concern.

Jesus can tell Simon is silently judging them. We don’t need to believe Jesus has supernatural powers to read others’ minds, just that Simon is not able to hide his disgust. We all know that look, that feeling we get from someone to let us know they disapprove.

Sensing Simon’s disapproval, Jesus tells him a parable that is rather pointed. It is about a creditor and two debtors. One owes 500 times a daily wage, the other 50. When neither is able to pay the creditor forgives both debts free and clear. Then Jesus asks Simon which debtor is more grateful?

Simon gives the expected answer: the one who owed more. But shouldn’t both be grateful? Are there degrees to gratitude? Surely the one who was relieved of 50 times the daily wage is ecstatic too? How can we judge the difference between two levels of extreme gratitude?

But that is exactly what we try to do, isn’t it? We judge ourselves against others. We say things to ourselves like, Well at least I am not as bad as so and so. Surely I have things more together than this person or that person.

That’s what Simon and his other guests are doing. They might not always fulfill the commandments, but at least they are not like this woman, this well-known sinner. She has no business being at table with them, unless it is to wash their feet. And they project that world view onto Jesus, but Jesus sees things differently.

He says to Simon, hey, you are the one who invited me into your house, but she is the only one showing hospitality: 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.

Simon and his other guests assume she is performing these acts to show contrition, to beg Jesus for the forgiveness for which she longs. Likewise, most commentators view the woman in much the same way: she wants something from Jesus. This is the language of the world; quid pro quo.

But in his commentary on this passage, Joel Green points out that the parable Jesus tells Simon only makes sense if the woman has already been forgiven. The Gospels don’t purport to tell everything Jesus ever said or did. There are many events and scenes that go unreported. Green suggests that this is not the first encounter between Jesus and this woman. He suggests that Jesus has already told her that she is released from her guilt and from other’s judgments of her. Therefore, her act of bathing Jesus’ feet with her tears and drying them with her hair is an act of gratitude not one of shame. And after coming to her defense, Jesus merely reminds her of what is already true about her. She has already been forgiven.

The key in the narrative is when Jesus asks Simon, Do you see this woman? Do you really see her? Not as a sinner. Not as someone beneath you. Not as someone to be excluded. Not someone for you to judge. Do you truly see her for the child of God she is? As a fellow human being? Not as a means to an end, but as a person worthy of care and attention, and yes, love.

This cuts right to the heart of Christian community in my estimation. Where we put our judgments aside, our social filters of who is who, our quid pro quo mentality with every interaction. Christian community is where we truly endeavor to see each other as children of God, as fellow humans, each of us worthy of love and dignity. It is where we know we are forgiven. Where we respond in gratitude. It is where—and this is key—where we feel safe enough to take healthy risks, to perform acts of extravagant devotion.

The woman in our passage today felt safe with Jesus. She knew that unlike almost everyone else in her life—he was not going to judge her. Unlike so many others who didn’t even bother to see her, the real her, and not her reputation—she knew Jesus loved and cared for her, accepted her for who she is. She felt safe.

When we feel safe—when we know we are loved just as we are—it is the most powerful thing in the world. Free of judgment, shame, and guilt we can soar to our potential, we can become who God has always intended us to be: ourselves.

That is what we are called to be as a church: a sanctuary for all people. Unfortunately so many have been hurt and felt judged by the church. Too often the church turned a blind eye to this harm. We prefer churches that feel like cozy country clubs rather than safe port for the lost and the outcast. We want our own little kingdoms, not the kingdom of God.

But if we want to invite Jesus here among us then we need to offer him hospitality. And he is clear what it means to show him hospitality. To welcome him, we must welcome each other as we are. We are here to be one another’s sanctuary in a harsh and dangerous world. We are here to express our gratitude for the great love that God as shown to us, by showing great love to one another.

Friends, may we strive to have the faith of the woman at Jesus feat; to know that Jesus is Lord, and in him we are forgiven, we are safe, we are seen for who we are and for all that God intends us to be. Amen.