Eating together as enacted community (Luke 7) #2
Sinners welcome Jesus
There are two sides to this story. It is not only a story of Jesus welcoming sinners. It is also a story of a sinner welcoming Jesus. Tim Costello tells how he was looking at this story with a group of drug addicts and prostitutes in Melbourne, Australia. One of the prostitutes said, ‘Jesus must’ve been a really great bloke’. She could imagine what it is like for this women. She thought about the formal evenings at the big houses in the posh suburbs of Melbourne. She thought about gate-crashing one of those parties; of how she would be treated; of what others would think. She could understand what it cost this woman to anoint the feet of Jesus. She could imagine the repulsion directed towards her by the other guests. She could hear the mutterings and see the glares. She could feel the threat of violence. She could understand how much this woman must have loved Jesus.
Twice Luke tells us that this party took place in the home of a Pharisee called Simon (verses 36 and 37). Luke emphasises the location. There is no doubt where this is happening. This is Simon’s house. And that means Simon is the host. Or is he?
Then [Jesus] turned towards the woman and said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven – for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.’
Then Jesus said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ The other guests began to say among themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’ Jesus said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’ (Luke 7:44-50)
Simon did not give Jesus any water for my feet. He did not give him a kiss. He did not put oil on his head. These were all very cultural things. This was the way hosts welcomed their guests. Today we would shake a guest’s hand as they arrive, take their coat and offer them a glass of wine or a cup of tea. Simon does none of these things. So Simon is the host who’s not really a host.
Instead the woman is the host who’s not even a guest. She’s a gate-crasher. Jesus sets up a series of contrasts between the hospitality of Simon and the hospitality of the sinful woman:
· You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair.
· You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered has not stopped kissing my feet.
· You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet.
She is the one who has been a host to Jesus – not Simon. She is the one who has welcomed Jesus. And it is not even her house. Jesus says: ‘Do you see this woman?’ (verse 44) I think we can safely assume Simon had noticed her! But Jesus is contrasting this woman with ‘your house’. ‘I am in your house, but she has been my host’.
So why does she do it?
When Simon condemns Jesus, Jesus responds not by defending his actions, but by explaining hers.
Jesus answered him, ‘Simon, I have something to tell you.’ ‘Tell me, teacher,’ he said. ‘Two men owed money to a certain money-lender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he cancelled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?’
Simon replied, ‘I suppose the one who had the bigger debt cancelled.’
You have judged correctly,’ Jesus said. (Luke 7:40-43)
The principle is simple. If someone forgives you, you will love them. And if someone forgives you a lot, you will love them a lot. Even Simon concedes this (verse 43). And this woman clearly loves Jesus a lot. Her audacity, her tears, her affection for Jesus make that clear. And so Jesus can say with confidence that her sins are forgiven – her many sins.
But what about Simon? Simon hasn’t even shown the normal courtesies of a host to Jesus and he has despised this poor woman. He hasn’t shown love. The only conclusion can be that he has been forgiven little and probably not at all.
Simon decides Jesus can’t be a prophet because Jesus can’t see what kind of woman she is. Jesus doesn’t seem to have the God-given insight to see the true character of this sinful woman.
But Simon is in for a shock. Jesus can see what kind of woman she is, he acknowledges that her sins are many. More than that, Jesus can see into Simon’s heart to know what he’s thinking. But the real shock is this. Jesus sees the heart of this woman and he sees the heart of Simon. And he is more disgusted by what he sees in Simon’s heart than by what he sees in the woman’s heart.
Simon’s attitude to this woman exposes his own heart. It’s always like that in life and ministry. Problem people, difficult people, different people have a habit of exposing our own hearts. Samuel and I have learnt this together leading a new church. Behaviour always comes from the sinful desires of the heart – Jesus says as much in the previous chapter (Luke 6:43-45). I remember Samuel and I sitting together, talking over a mug of tea about a difficult situation we had had to face. ‘What I’ve find most disappointing,’ he told me, ‘was what it revealed about my own heart. It has shown me again that I still need people’s approval because I fear them more than I fear God.’ When someone is difficult, disappointing or disrespectful your reaction reveals your own heart. If you react with anger or bitterness then your ‘need’ for control or respect or success is exposed. If you are trusting God’s sovereignty rather than your own abilities and if you are concerned for God’s glory rather than your own reputation then it will be a different story. When you discover someone in your church has fallen into sin, your own heart will be exposed. You may discover grace in your heart from God. But you may also discover pride and self-righteousness.
The real difference between Simon and the woman is not just how they view Jesus. It is also how they view themselves. Simon has no sense of forgiveness because he has no sense of need. And so he shows no kindness to Jesus – not even the common courtesies of a host. But this woman has a strong sense of her brokenness. She knows her life is a mess. And she sees in Jesus someone who accepts her anyway. And so she has an overwhelming love for him – a love that risks social disgrace.
I said a moment ago that involvement with people, especially the marginalised, begins with a sense of God’s grace. But there is another level again if our involvement is to be effective and authentic. My involvement must begin with a profound sense of God’s grace to me. It is not enough to feel that God is gracious to ‘them’. I must feel that God is gracious to ‘me’. When I speak with alcoholic or the single-mother or the depressive or the unemployed and unemployable, I must do so as a fellow sinner: we are both messy people in a messy world. I need a profound sense of my own brokenness, my own need before God, my own horribly, ugly sinful heart. I need to be melted and broken by God’s grace to me.
Otherwise all my good intentions will be patronising. Anything I say will be heard as ‘become like me’. Only as I am daily struck by God’s amazing grace to me, Tim Chester, will my life and words point to the Jesus as the Saviour. The cross – comes back to the cross day after day.
It means, too, that whenever we look down on someone for being smelly or disorganised or lazy or emotional or promiscuous or socially inept or bitter then we are a like Simon. I invite you to imagine in those moments Jesus sitting next to you, reading your hearts and being displeased by what he sees. It also means that if we look down on people for not understanding grace, for not doing grace, for not being loving, then we are like graceless Simon. It means that if you are thinking at this moment about how this applies to someone else then you are like Simon. Jesus says to us, ‘You look down on others, you love little, because you understand so little of your sin and my grace.’
Conclusion
Tony Campolo tells of a time when he was speaking in Honolulu in Hawaii.[1] Campolo lives on the east coast of the United States so his body was six hours ahead of Hawaiian time. At three o-clock in the morning it felt like nine o-clock to him. Awake and hungry for breakfast, he found himself in a ‘greasy spoon’ café in the small hours of the morning. As he bit into his doughnut, eight or nine prostitutes walked in. They had just finished for the night. Their talk was loud and crude, and it was difficult to avoid listening in. He heard one tell the others it was her birthday the following day. ‘What do want from me? A birthday cake?’ was the sarcastic reply. ‘Why be so mean?’ she replied. ‘I was just telling you. I don’t expect anything. I’ve never had a birthday party. I’m not expecting to have one now.’ When Campolo heard this he made a decision.
When the women left, he went over to the café owner, a guy called Harry. ‘Do they always come in here?’ ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘Including the one who sat next to me?’ ‘Yes, that’s Agnes. Why do you want to know?’ ‘Because I heard her say it’s her birthday tomorrow and I thought we might throw her a party.’ Pause. Then a smile grew across Harry’s lips. ‘That’d be a great idea.’ A moment later his wife was in on the plot.
Half past two the next morning. Campolo had brought decorations and Harry had baked a cake. Word had got out and it seemed as if every prostitute in Honolulu was in the café – plus Campolo, a preacher. When Agnes entered with her friends, she was flabbergasted. Her mouth fell open and her knees wobbled. As she sat on a stool, everyone sang happy birthday. ‘Blow out the candles,’ people shouted, but in the end Harry had to do it for her. Then he handed her a knife. ‘Cut the cake, Agnes, so we can all have some.’ She looked at the cake. Then slowly said, ‘Is it alright … would you mind … if I wait a little longer … if we didn’t eat it straight away?’ ‘Sure. It’s okay,’ said Harry. ‘Take it home if you want.’ ‘Can I?’ she said. ‘Can I take it home now? I’ll be back in a few minutes.’ And with that she left, carrying her precious cake out the café.
There was a stunned silence. So Campolo said: ‘What do you say we pray?’ And they did. Campolo lead a group of prostitutes in prayer at 3.30 in the morning. When they were done, Harry said: ‘Hey! You never told me you were some kind of preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?’ Campolo answered: ‘I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for whores at 3.30 in the morning.’ Harry waited for a moment. Then he kind of sneered. ‘No you don’t. There’s no church like that. If there was, I’d join it. I’d join a church like that.’ Campolo comments:
Wouldn’t we all? Wouldn’t we all love to join a church that throws birthday parties for whores at 3.30 in the morning? Well, that’s the kind of church that Jesus came to create! I don’t know where we got the other one that’s so prim and proper. But anybody who reads the New Testament will discover a Jesus who loved to party with whores and with all kinds of left-out people. The publicans and ‘sinners’ loved him because he partied with them. The lepers of society found in him someone who would eat and drink with them. And while the solemnly pious people could not relate to what he was about, those lonely people who usually didn’t get invited to parties took to him with excitement.
[1] Tony Campolo, The Kingdom of God is a Party (Word, 1990), 3-9.
