Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

All Sermons are © Copyrighted and may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the express permission of the author.

Party at Simon's house! Dinner party! Fancy party! Must be a spur-of-the-moment thing -- preparations being made so fast and furiously, Simon the Pharisee's servants running all over town, inviting "everyone who was anyone," buying lavish supplies of food, and new linens for the table, and wine, of course (the best wine!). It was a little place. Soon - very soon - word got around. Everyone knew that something big was coming down. A young teacher from Nazareth, something of a cause celeb at that time, had shown up that day in their town, and had drawn a big crowd - mostly young people, of course, starry-eyed, fawning, easily led. Jesus was all the rage. Some of the town's gray heads would have to go check him out. So it was that Simon the Pharisee went out to meet Jesus. Simon would make the initial assessment. Was Jesus really a prophet speaking for God, or was he just another corrupting, unsettling influence? Surprisingly, when they meet, Simon invites Jesus to dinner, but there is a method in his madness. He will invite others of the hoi-poloi to join them so they can all observe this young man, Jesus, and weigh in with their opinions.

Weather is almost tropical in Israel, so houses there are more open than they would be here. In Jesus' day wealthy homes had courtyards, and porches and breezeways. And when there was a party, or a wedding, or some other social event, in such a home, the ordinary folk would gather to see the celebrities. It was quite normal. They would mingle around outside the gate and look in, or stand on tip-toe to peer over the walls, or watch through unshuttered windows. The house might be surrounded with people. But only those who were invited could come in.

So the scene is set. Jesus arrives. The people buzz. Then come the sober religious leaders with their long robes, then the aristocrats, then the just-plain filthy rich. Simon greets each and escorts each to his place at the table. All is going well. But then a terrible, scandalous thing happens. The town whore walks in, walks right over to Jesus and falls down at his feet. ("What is she doing here? Who let her in? She's making a scene!") Actually, if they had bothered to notice, she is sobbing convulsively, and as her tears make wet the feet of Jesus, she lets down her hair and wipes them dry. She never says a word. We don't even know her name. But today, two thousand years later (!), we are still talking about what she did. If you only have five minutes to read the Bible, read this.

Simon is embarrassed, but also (in a way) delighted. He has his answer, this early in the game, and it's out in the open, for all to see. Jesus is not a prophet. If he were, he would know what kind of woman this is, and would not let her touch him, pollute him. But Jesus beckons to him. "Simon, what if a person owed $1,000 to VISA and $100 to MasterCard, and both companies, out of the kindness of their hearts, wrote and said, 'Forget it. Don't bother to pay?' Which company would he love most? And Simon, who hasn't quite caught on, states the obvious: "VISA, I guess." "Right. Forgiven much, one loves much. Forgiven little, one loves little.

Now, Simon, I hate to bring this up, but when I entered your house you gave me no water for my feet; you gave me no kiss of greeting; no oil to anoint my head (common courtesies), but this woman has washed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair, she has not stopped kissing my feet since she came in, and she has anointed them with ointment." And he says to the woman, "Your faith has saved you, go in peace."

Simon had planned the evening to take the measure of Jesus, but instead Jesus had taken his measure. Jesus had turned the tables on him. As this story turns the tables on its readers.

Let's invite Jesus to dinner. Maybe we'll "cheapy up" a little on the hospitality, but we'll maintain appearances. We'll pretend we are glad that he has visited our home. And then we'll measure him to see if he fits in our world, if he looks good on us, if he can do us any good. After all, there are lots of claims on our affection. Let him bid for us, with all the others. We'll decide. We'll run Jesus up the flag pole and see who salutes.

This is the mother of all self-delusions: that we are in the driver's seat, that we, and we alone, control our destiny. ("I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.") It's so preposterous! So out of touch with reality. We actually think of ourselves as perfect sheep, so perfect, so without-blemish, that we can pick from among many would-be shepherds. While, in truth, the real picture is like this: each of us is a lost sheep, out on some cold mountain, trying to make heads-or-tails of life, searching for the safety of God's flock - from which we have wondered away.. When the Good Shepherd arrives, and carries us home, it may seem to our perverted minds that we have chosen him, but (in fact) it is he who has come looking for us, and has found us.

I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew
he moved my soul to seek him, seeking me.
It was not that I found, O Savior true;
no, I was found of thee.
Thou didst reach forth thy hand and mine enfold;
I walked, and sank not on the storm-vexed sea.
'Twas not so much that I on thee took hold,
as thou, dear Lord, on me.

The woman who fell at Jesus' feet and wept knew that God had found her before she had found him. She had been lost, and was now found, had been dead and (thanks to Jesus) was now alive again. And that not by any choice or deed of hers. And all she could do for Jesus, her Good Shepherd, was to fall at his feet and love him forever. Simon did not understand his lostness, did not feel his need for forgiveness, but she felt hers. Simon was blind to his faults. He didn't think there was much in him that needed forgiving. He was darn near perfect - didn't need to love or to be loved. That's why he was so cheap with his hospitality and she was so generous with hers. Simon chose, instead, to be pious and righteous, and as such excluded himself from the grace of God. He was "the man who had everything." But she won the prize.

God's love tends toward extravagance, and our response should, too. God's love is often experienced first as a mighty wave, a tsunami of forgiveness. The past is behind us. Hallelujah! The slate is clean. We can begin again. It is love that leads us to forgive, but (Jesus reminds us) it is also forgiveness that leads us to love. "She has had many debts cancelled, Simon. And she knows it. That is why she loves me more than you."