Voices from the Story

FORGIVEN (Based on Luke 7:36-50, Romans 5:6-8, and Ephesians 4:32) I’ll never forget that day in Galilee when I dared to enter the house of Simon the Pharisee. Pharisees are Jewish religious leaders we call the separated ones. They keep the law carefully, washing their hands incessantly and avoiding contact with anyone the system labels unclean. For instance, they don’t hob nob with shepherds, because their work keeps their hands dirty. And of course they avoid anyone who flouts or breaks the law. That means me. They call me a woman of the streets. Never mind the fact that in our society a woman without the protection of a man has little choice between prostitution and starvation. You probably know that all women are second class citizens in our world. Between menstruating and child bearing, we spend a good part of our lives labeled unclean. As a prostitute I am considered unclean all the time--someone to be avoided and excluded. But I’ve heard Jesus teaching, and watched him speak to women with the same attention and respect as men. He even shares table fellowship with people like me, prostitutes and sinners. Once I was part of a group that sat down to eat with him. He made me feel forgiven, acceptable for the first time in years. I longed to let him know how grateful I am. The Pharisees are careful never to sit down at table with the wrong kind of people, so the day Simon invited Jesus to eat at his house, the other guests were carefully selected—Pharisees and other upstanding citizens. I really don’t understand why Simon has included Jesus, since he is known to eat with prostitutes and other unsavory types. Maybe Simon wants to test him, or just enjoys collecting celebrities. In warm weather, people often set meals with a visiting rabbi out in the courtyard so uninvited townspeople can come in, listen to the table conversation and hear the teacher’s wise answers. Others can come, but of course not people like me. I know this. I know I am breaking the rules and will likely get in trouble, but I have to see Jesus and thank him for making me feel like a human being again. I cross the street and peer into Simon’s shady courtyard. In the center is a flowing fountain, inviting and cool on that sweltering day. I slip inside, quietly and quickly, and approach the table were the guests are gathered. When I arrive the guests are already seated according to our custom, reclining on low couches around the table. They lean back on their left elbow, leaving the right arm and hand free for eating. Their feet are extended behind them. I walk over and stand by Jesus’ feet. He turns and smiles when he sees me. When our eyes meet, my heart overflows, along with my tears. Sinking to my knees behind him, I take the alabaster vial of sweet smelling ointment I always wear around my neck, uncork it, and begin to anoint him. My tears are dampening his feet, and I have no towel to dry them. What to do? Even though I know perfectly well that no respectable woman ever loosens her hair in public, I unbind mine, wipe off his feet, and kiss them. Simon notices what I am doing and reproves Jesus, “Disgusting! How can you let that woman touch you? If you are a true prophet you should know what kind of woman she is—a sinner.” But Jesus speaks up and says, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Speak, teacher,” Simon growls. Then Jesus tells a story, “A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed him five hundred denarii and the other owed fifty.” (In case you don’t know, a denarius is an average day’s wage.) “It turned out that neither one could pay, and much to their surprise, the creditor forgave both debts. Now, which one do you think will love the creditor more?” “I suppose the one whose debt is greater,” Simon answered. “You’re right,” said Jesus. He turned toward me and then said to Simon, “Look at this woman. When I entered your house you did not offer me basic hospitality. You did not give me water for my feet, but she bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You did not give me a welcoming kiss, but she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil but she has anointed me with fragrant ointment. And I tell you, the great love she has shown proves that her sins, which were many, have been forgiven. But whoever has been forgiven little shows only a little love.” Then Jesus says to me, “Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.” “Thank you, teacher,” I whisper to Jesus as I start to leave. Then I look around at the other guests and hear them saying to one another, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” But I, I have experienced it and know it is true. Jesus can forgive sins; he has forgiven the sin that has bound me tightly for so many years. It is all I can do to keep from shouting “I am forgiven!” as I walk proudly out of Simon’s courtyard into the sunlight, healed and free.