It’s About Forgiveness

Psalm 5, Luke 7:36-8:3

June 17, 2007

Rochelle A. Stackhouse

 

            It was supposed to be a dinner party at which some very smart and very powerful religious leaders in Jerusalem were going to check out this upstart preacher from Galilee. They would debate theology, talk philosophy and politics, history and Bible. They would see just how this Jesus would do in more sophisticated company than he usually kept, what with those fishermen and that very odd Baptizer who was rumored to be some distant relation. It was supposed to be an informal debate, a set of tests, perhaps even a weaning him away from his rough associates and into a more refined group of people, that is, if he passed the tests. It was supposed to be talk, lots of talk.

 

            Then she drifted in, this woman of the streets. They knew who she was, this prostitute. Perhaps even one or two of the men present had known her very well. At first, one of Simon’s friends started to get up to usher her out of the house, but Simon stopped him. “Let’s see how this ‘holy’ man responds to her seductions,” he whispered. So they watched. She spoke not a word; she only wept as she bathed his feet and anointed them. It was without doubt a very intimate act, but clearly something was going on other than seduction, something closer to the common act of hospitality, of washing feet, but on a whole new level; it was all a bit confusing.

 

            As Jesus let her go on, Simon turned to his friend with a knowing look, as though to say, “He’s no holy man or he would have sent her away; perhaps they already have some relationship we don’t know about.” Perhaps they did, but not the kind Simon meant.

 

Jesus observed everything, Simon and his friends, the woman, and then he told a story about two debtors, one owing a large amount and one a smaller, both of whom had been forgiven.

 

            Now you and I hear the story, and we think we know who Jesus is talking about here. We think the one forgiven more is meant to stand for the woman. There is no question this woman was a sinner. Jesus goes so far as to say that her sins were many. But at some point she had heard the words of Jesus and become clear on her sin. He had forgiven her, and in receiving that forgiveness, her life changed. In receiving that forgiveness, she understood that she was loved, and her first impulse as one newly reconciled not only to God but to herself was to use her body not in lust, but to show love. Yes, this woman had been forgiven much.

 

            But I read something this week that turned this little parable Jesus tells on its head for me. One of the ancient leaders of the church, the founder of what is now called the Syrian Orthodox Church, was a man named Ephraim the Syrian who lived in the fourth century. In a sermon, Ephraim tells this parable a little differently, perhaps as he heard it and not as it was written down. Jesus says, “O Simon, there were two debtors, one owed the creditor five hundred and the other owed fifty. And when the creditor saw that neither of these two had anything, the creditor pardoned and forgave them both their debt. Which of them ought to render the greater thanks? He who was forgiven 500 or he who was forgiven 50?” Simon answered, “He who was forgiven five hundred ought to render the greater thanks.” Jesus answered, “You are he that owes five hundred and this woman owes 50!”

 

            Imagine the consternation in the room if Jesus had said that? How could this be? This woman was a prostitute. She had committed fornication and adultery, leading who knows how many youths astray and hurting marriages! Jesus himself had admitted her sins were many! Simon, on the other hand, was a righteous man. He followed the laws of the Torah and the government to the letter! He was a leader in the community. Certainly he had things to confess from time to time, small matters, little trespasses, but he confessed and gave an offering and it was done. This woman probably hadn’t even gone to the Temple to offer up anything to make up for her sin. What did Jesus mean by saying Simon was forgiven greater sins than she was? He had no sins that needed forgiving!

 

            Okay, so Simon had not offered Jesus the customary signs of hospitality, the washing of feet and the kiss of greeting. So what? How does that compare with this woman’s lifetime of adultery and fornication? Jesus really couldn’t have expected to be given that hospitality anyway, since he really wasn’t on the same level as his hosts. I mean, Jesus probably should just have been thankful to have been invited into such a nice home, considering where he usually hung out.

 

            So is it that Simon was a righteous man who did not need forgiving and so couldn’t be as loving and grateful as the woman? Is the message to us that we should sin a lot so we’ll know we are forgiven a lot and so be more grateful to God? Or is it possible that the reason Simon had so little love in him toward others is that he was so sure he was so much better than everyone else that he had no reason for humility, and so no connection with those who did. It’s hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way, or, as the Austin Lounge Lizards song puts it, “I know that Jesus loves me and I know he can’t stand you.” It’s not only hard to be humble, it’s hard to be loving, because true love comes out of the vulnerability of honesty, honesty about who you are and about who God is.

 

            In Ephraim’s telling of this little story, Jesus sees Simon’s arrogance and certainty as worse sins than this woman’s sexual immorality. Jesus believes Simon’s sense of superiority in his treatment of Jesus and his dismissive judgment of this woman does at least as much harm as she has done in her lifetime of wanton living. And that is very consistent with Jesus’ actions elsewhere in the gospels.

 

            But the point of the parable is not to make this a contest, to say “who is the worse sinner.” The point of the parable is to call Simon to the place the woman had already discovered, the place of reconciliation, of connection with other human beings based not on who does the best job of following the rules, or who is the most sophisticated or the most holy, but on understanding a common need for God’s mercy. The preacher John Jewell says it this way, “People who need forgiveness but are unaware of their need have their eyes focused on others (and their shortcomings). People who are aware of their need have their eyes focused on God.”

 

            Simon was not watching and listening to Jesus. He was busy condemning the woman and waiting for an opportunity to dismiss Jesus as a fake. The woman had eyes and ears only for Jesus. Seeing him, she saw herself clearly, and she was able honestly to see not only her sin and her need for forgiveness, but the deep well of God’s mercy, so deep even she could find living water in it. Simon did not even know he was thirsty. Indeed, he could not admit he needed water to survive. His understanding of righteousness separated him not only from the woman, but from Jesus who would consort with such a woman, and ultimately his understanding of his righteousness separated him from a deep relationship with God.

 

            How easy it is for us to look at each other and say, in our hearts if never out loud, “you owe God more than I do; your transgression, your trespass, your debt, your sin is worse than mine. You have broken the law and I follow it; I am good and you are not.” Or for some of us it is easy to say “I am a terrible sinner and these good people would never accept me.” Jesus says to Simon and the woman that these are the wrong categories. The issue is that every one of us is at the same time less than God hoped we might be and fully forgiven and deeply loved. The depth of the fall is not important.

 

Ethan Minkema, in his statement of faith drawing at the end of Confirmation, illustrated this beautifully. Ethan drew himself in a pit. Then God dropped a rope to him, Ethan looked up, took the rope, and God pulled him up. Next you saw lots of other pits with other people in them, some deeper than others, but all pits. Ethan’s understanding of discipleship is that he should take the rope God dropped him and drop it to others.

 

            Simon the Pharisee was in a gilded pit, one with fancy furniture and nice food, but a pit where he could see, through a series of periscopes, all the other folk in pits around him. He spent his days being outraged at their sinful lives, looking down. Jesus had thrown him a rope, but he ignored it, never looking up, dismissing even the possibility that he might need a rope. Jesus threw the woman a rope, and she grabbed it, climbed out, and could not stop caressing the one who had seen her and judged her worthy of being called out. I have no doubt that she then got into the rope throwing business herself, perhaps joining those women Luke tells us about who followed Jesus with the 12 and helped support his ministry. All of them had been thrown ropes and grabbed on for dear life and now worked with Jesus to reach others in pits of all kinds.

 

            The most sure way we can reach one another and truly connect, especially with those with whom we are sure we have no connection, is by walking hand over hand down the rope God has thrown us which is connected to all the ropes God has thrown everyone else, forgiving the debts of others as God has forgiven us our debt, whether that debt is small or large. Like Simon, we can control our encounter with Jesus by keeping it to a set of interesting conversations. Or we can notice that while we talk, Jesus has been braiding a rope and moving it closer and closer to us to pull us out of ourselves. If we grab it, talking may cease for a time, and tears of gratitude begin. When those tears have washed our eyes, then we can see each other as the forgiven debtors we all are and listen to Jesus say to all of us, “your sins are forgiven; your faith, which gave you the courage to take the rope when it was offered, saved you. Go in peace.” Amen.