Freed by Forgiveness

The Reverend Luther Zeigler
Emmanuel Church
June 16, 2013

“Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love.”  Luke 7:47

Jesus is in town, and so, Simon, one of the Pharisees, decides to throw a dinner party.   We don’t know from the text whether Jesus is the guest of honor, or just one guest among many.  There is a hint, however, here and elsewhere throughout Luke’s gospel, that the Pharisees are always a bit dubious about Jesus and his ministry, and are looking for opportunities to check him out more closely.  Simon’s invitation to Jesus may well be motivated by a desire to get to know this young rabbi a bit better, to size him up, to see what he is all about.

The Pharisees as a group were, we know, defined by their attentiveness to righteous living.  They take seriously God’s commandments.  And they have a grave concern that, as the Hebrew people come to be increasingly surrounded by foreigners who do not share their beliefs – people like the Greeks and Romans –  obedience to Torah will begin to erode.  As a result, the Pharisees are known for their insistence upon upright living, observance of the Sabbath, and adherence to dietary laws and purity codes. 

We can fairly presume, therefore, that Simon and his friends are concerned about some of the rumors swirling around town about this young rabbi, who has been seen in the company of tax collectors, lepers, and other unsavory types.  Whatever abilities this Jesus may have to preach and teach, Simon has to be disturbed by this rabbi’s growing reputation for hanging out with the wrong crowd in seeming disregard of appropriate social boundaries.  And so, you can only imagine how shocked Simon and his friends must be when Jesus permits the unnamed woman of our gospel story today to greet him at the door of Simon’s house with such an over-the-top welcome. 

It was a customary practice of hospitality at the time for hosts to have a basin of water by the door so that guests who had traveled dusty roads in bare feet or sandals could wash their feet before entering.  The woman apparently notices Simon’s failure to provide Jesus with the requisite basin.  Here, then, is the first irony of the story.  Simon the Pharisee, the righteousness police, has neglected to offer his guest the hospitality of some fresh water so that he can wash himself and be clean.  It takes a so-called ‘sinful woman’ to make amends for Simon’s oversight.

But the woman does much more that merely wash Jesus’ feet.  Luke tells us that she stands “behind him, weeping, and be[gins] to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair.  Then she continue[s] kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.”

It is hard to overstate what a scandalous scene this is when judged by the norms of the times.  First, it is improper for a single woman to approach, let alone touch a man.  Second, first century Jews would have found as bizarre as we do that the woman would then bathe Jesus’ feet in her tears and dry them with her hair, an act that is at once extravagantly emotional and embarrassingly intimate.  And third, while anointing a person on the head or upper body with oil was appropriate in certain circumstances, anointing another’s feet with oil in a situation like this had no precedent in Jewish culture or ancient literature.

All of which is to say that Simon reaction is understandable.  This is a shocking scene that explodes all human standards of propriety.  But what’s worse, this woman has, shall we say, “a history.”  In Simon’s words:  “If Jesus truly were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is touching him – that she is a sinner.”

Over the centuries during which this story has been interpreted, scholars have speculated that Simon’s words suggest the woman was a prostitute, that her sin was sexual in nature, and many have further speculated that she is in fact Mary Magdalene.  The text, however, is ambiguous about both points.  The nature of her sin is not explained, and her identity is not disclosed.

Moreover, as we learn from the parable contained in the next set of verses, Simon is dead wrong when he assumes that Jesus did not know that this woman was a sinner.   Jesus explains to Simon what is happening in this way:  “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 will love him more?”  Simon correctly responds, “the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.”

It turns out that the woman’s extraordinary show of hospitality to Jesus is not some lascivious display of a prostitute, but rather a very genuine outburst of love and gratitude in response to Jesus’ willingness to forgive her past when others would not give her the time of day.  Simon and his crowd think this is a story about social propriety and moral boundaries.  Jesus and this unnamed woman, on the other hand, are pointing us to the deeper reality of transformed living and loving that comes with practicing real forgiveness.  Verse 47 is the key:  “Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love.”

The practice of forgiveness lies at the very heart of the Christian life.  Because we are a forgiven people – deeply loved by God notwithstanding our faults and frailties – we are called to reflect that very forgiveness by forgiving others. 

Many people, though, fail to appreciate the full power of forgiveness and its potential to transform.  The aim of forgiveness is not simply to wipe the slate clean, so that a person can start afresh.  The ultimate aim of forgiveness is to draw us back into relationship, with each other and with God.  Notice again what Jesus says:  “her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love.”  Not “hence, she gets a fresh start.”  Forgiveness is more than mere reprieve; it is an invitation to respond in love so that relationship can be restored.  Sin separates us from each other and God; forgiveness reconciles us with one another and draws us closer to God.

This is the ultimate irony of the story:  Simon thinks that the sinner is the woman, when in fact the real sinner is Simon.  He is the one who has trapped himself in the lonely world of judgment and exclusion.   He is so eager to condemn others for their transgressions, and pat himself on the back, that he fails to see God even when God is staring him in the face.

For the truth is that we fully experience God only when we stop judging, acknowledge in all humility our own brokenness, and open ourselves to the transforming power of forgiveness that leads to restored relationship.

As a University chaplain, I spend a lot of time counseling young people about their relationships.  And while there are many keys to a healthy relationship with another person, the ability to give and receive forgiveness is near the top of the list.  This is why our Book of Common Prayer, in its wisdom, places the following prayer at the center of the marriage rite:  “Give the couple grace, dear Lord, when they hurt each other, to recognize and acknowledge their fault, and to seek each other’s forgiveness and yours” so that “their life together” may be “a sign of Christ’s love to this sinful and broken world, that unity may overcome estrangement, forgiveness heal guilt, and joy conquer despair.”

What this prayer emphasizes, among other things, is that true forgiveness is more than just the words “I’m sorry”; it is more than just a momentary act of letting go of a grudge or hurt; it is more than just the feeling of a burden lifted.  It is in fact a practice, a craft, a way of life that has to be cultivated over time so that it becomes a part of who you are as a person, as a couple, as a community.

In these past few days, many of us have been keeping in our prayers that great leader of South Africa, Nelson Mandela, as he lies weak in a hospital bed, perhaps nearing the end of his long and rich life.  I mention Mandela because he, more than any other political leader of our times, has demonstrated an understanding of the transformative potential of forgiveness. 

Those of you who know something about South African history, or saw the great film, Invictus, will remember how Mandela changed the course of a nation through a bold and very public example of forgiveness. The movie takes place in South Africa in the mid-1990s, just after Mandela’s election as the country’s first black president.  Many of the whites at that time — most of them Afrikaner nationalists still attached to a system that kept their black compatriots poor, disenfranchised and oppressed — brace themselves for payback as Mandela assumes power.  Quite a few of the president’s black supporters expect it, too, as their due after decades of brutality and humiliation under apartheid.  But Mandela knows that score-settling would be both wrong and a disastrous course for a new and fragile democracy.

To the dismay of loyalists in his movement, Mandela is preoccupied not with exploiting his new political muscle, but with finding a path of enduring reconciliation with the people who hate and fear him:  the whites who see him as a terrorist, a usurper and a threat to their traditions and values.  Mandela’s astonishing overtures to the Afrikaners — starting with his refusal to dismiss white members of the presidential staff and security detail, and ending with his unexpected and dramatic appeal to the all-white rugby team, the Spingboks, to represent the country in the upcoming Rugby World Cup — arise out of a Christ-like appreciation for the power of forgiveness to restore human relationship.

Mandela understood the simple truth reflected in today’s gospel story:  Sin separates; forgiveness unites.  Just as married couples learn over time that the health of their relationship depends upon a willingness to forgive and respond in love, so too do communities and nations eventually learn that the practice of forgiveness and reconciliation is the only path toward wholeness. 

May we have the humility to open our hearts to the miracle of God’s forgiveness, just as this unnamed woman did so many centuries ago.  And like her, may we also have the courage to respond with a reckless love and unbounded gratitude that astonishes all the Simons of this world.  Amen.

The foregoing summary of Invictus is taken in part from A.O. Scott’s review in the New York Times (Dec. 10, 2009).