Hilton Head Island, SC – March 7, 2021
The Chapel Without Walls
Matthew 21:28-32; Luke 7:36-50
A Sermon by John M. Miller
Text – And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was sitting at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment, and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment. – Luke 7:27-28 (RSV)
The episode in the seventh chapter of Luke is a story unlike any other in any of the Gospels. It involves what is known as a woman of the night, a practitioner of the world’s oldest profession, or in other words, a prostitute. The cultural features of this story are fascinating, and make it all the more interesting.
A Pharisee named Simon invited Jesus to his home for a meal. First-century Jewish culture declared that anyone could come to anyone else’s home if a rabbi had been invited there. The uninvited “guests” couldn’t talk, but they could stand in the courtyard and listen. It happened that a prostitute who had heard about Jesus came to hear what Jesus had to say. However, the narrative says that “she was sinner,” which is a “veddy refined” way of saying what she was.
You may wonder why a Pharisee would allow a prostitute into his home. Apparently it was because it would be taboo for him to order even her to leave. Besides, Simon may have been eager to see what Jesus himself would do when someone that disreputable came to listen to him.
Whatever it was Jesus said, the woman was overcome with emotion because of it. She began weeping profusely, and a flood of tears fell on Jesus’ feet. She removed the socially and religiously required covering over her head and began to wipe his feet with her hair, kissing his feet in the process. The two verses of our sermon text are meant to suggest that this entire episode was scandalous, and that Luke intended it to be perceived in that way.
I’m sure you have seen video clips of women in Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, or Saudi Arabia with their hair covered and their faces barely visible. That same tradition was observed in first-century Jewish culture. Women never showed their hair in public. It was considered to be totally erotic and shameful. But that is precisely what this notorious woman was doing to Jesus. And Jesus was doing nothing to stop her from doing it!
Simon the Pharisee said to himself, “If Jesus knew what sort of a female this is who is touching him, he would have demanded that she leave at once!” But Jesus didn’t do that. Instead, as he often did in such situations, Jesus told Simon a short parable. There was man who loaned one person a small amount of money and another man was loaned ten times that amount. When neither could pay, the lender forgave them both what they owed. So Jesus asked the Pharisee which of the two borrowers would be more grateful. Not wanting to put himself into a trap, but also not wanting to look like look like a fool by saying nothing, Simon hesitantly answered, “I suppose the one whose loan was far larger.”
In that dusty climate, whenever a guest came into your home, you were socially obligated to provide water and a towel for washing the person’s feet. Simon didn’t do that. Furthermore, the host was obliged to give the guest the customary three kisses when he arrived, which you have also seen on television or in movies. Simon also didn’t do that either. Simon therefore wanted everyone to know that he did not approve of or respect Jesus. But the prostitute was washing Jesus’ feet with her tears, and she was drying them with her long and now brazenly visible hair, while kissing Jesus’ feet. To Simon and probably to everyone else who was there, this was a disgusting scene, but not so to Jesus. This woman had always been treated with taunts and sneers by everyone, but Jesus treated her with kindness and respect. No one before had ever perceived her as a person. She was only a thing to everyone, males and females alike.
Perhaps many people imagine that prostitutes are sex machines who love having sex with strangers. If so, they do so in the same way that policemen in riot gear love mobs --- or bomb de-fusers love bombs --- or dog catchers love rabid dogs. Probably most prostitutes practice the world’s oldest profession because they sadly conclude they don’t have sufficient skills for doing anything else. Nobody who becomes a prostitute can be unaware of the inevitable social status that results from that line of work. It is Aldonza in Man of La Mancha derisively referring to herself as “the most casual bride of the murdering scum of the earth.” Only a twisted psychological wreck who consciously chose such a terribly sad occupation could imagine herself in a positive light.
That day in the home of a judgmental Pharisee, an anonymous woman experienced profound acceptance by the only truly loving man she had ever seen and whom she would never see again. She completely abased herself before Jesus, and he did nothing to show disapproval of anything she did. He did not look askance at her, and his face and eyes displayed not one scintilla of rejection or revulsion. No one had ever treated her like that. He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.” Then, looking directly at Simon, Jesus said, firmly but without rancor, “I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little.” Think about what that means.
A few days before Jesus died, he was in the temple, being questioned by the priests and the highest religious officials in the land. He mentioned John the Baptist, whom the priests and elders detested. He said to them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the harlots believed him” (Mt. 21:31-32).
People who essentially follow the rules and live righteous lives find it almost impossible to comprehend the mindset of people who, by choice or circumstance, are constant rule-breakers. Furthermore, people who are law-abiding citizens tend to relate primarily if not exclusively to people such as themselves. Thus they are very hard-pressed to find any compassion in their hearts for those who regularly appear to cast all social customs aside.
I think I would be safe in saying that in Luke’s story of the prostitute in the home of Simon the Pharisee, none of us is like that woman. For that we should feel both humble and grateful. No one chooses to become a prostitute; it happens when there is no other viable choice to prevent starvation and thus even worse degradation. It’s no great credit to us that we aren’t that woman, and for that we are blessed. Nor are we nor can we fully be Jesus in that story. None of us is capable of such an utterly non-judgmental affirmation and acceptance as was shown by Jesus to that lonely, lost lady.
However, many if not all of us do have at least a smidgeon of Simon the Pharisee in us. There are limits beyond which we will not go in order to maintain our own social status. Showing kindness to women like that woman may be more of a challenge than we are capable of fulfilling. There are some kinds of people who will always be beneath our standards, even if our standards are remarkably broad.
This story is the only extended encounter Jesus had with a prostitute in any of the Gospels. In a culture in which poverty was rampant though, he must have seen many prostitutes, because prostitution is much more common in settings of poverty. Where women – or men - are desperate for income, prostitution thrives. No doubt that was why Jesus said what he said to the priests in the temple about tax collectors and harlots; everyone saw both every day.
Jesus didn’t befriend this woman because she was a reformed prostitute. He befriended her because she was a practicing prostitute who needed a friend. What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear! The Son of man came to seek and to save the lost! He said he came to call sinners, not the righteous, to repentance! But when you do that, it bothers the righteous, simply because they are fairly righteous!
And in this context, what does it mean to be saved, here and now? It means to be accepted, here and now. It means to be welcomed into the kingdom of God on earth. God’s kingdom exists both on earth and in heaven, but we won’t and can’t know what heaven is until we get there. Salvation doesn’t begin in heaven; it begins in the world, right here in Jarvis Creek Park or on Hilton Head Island or wherever anyone is. To understand who Jesus is is to understand who God is. Jesus isn’t God on earth, because Jesus is not God. But Jesus is God’s Number One representative on earth, at least to those who call themselves Christians. His primary proclamation is that God loves all of us as we are. Once we realize that, God intends to do a personality or at least a behavioral overhaul on us. God accepts all people unconditionally, but afterwards He intends for us to hone off our rough edges and to button our judgmental lips and to soften our hard hearts. God wants us to live in harmony with everyone else --- saints and sinners, sheep and goats, good guys and bad guys. That’s what Jesus did, and that’s what we are called to do.
That also is what got Jesus into trouble. In a rigidly righteous religious culture, you can’t spend any time with misfit people and maintain an acceptable reputation. You are bound to experience strong disapproval among the spiritual powers that be if you do that. If some of the company you keep is not constantly of the proper sort, you are bound to be tarred with the brush of unrighteousness. “This man hangs out with tax collectors, prostitutes, and other kinds of widely acknowledged sinners, and breaks bread with them.”
Blaise Pascal was a seventeenth century philosopher and mathematician. He said, “There are only two kinds of men.” (In the seventeenth century, the word “men” meant “people,” but as in the twenty-first century it sounds too male-dominated, which it is, so we will say “people”): “There are only two kinds of people: the righteous who believe themselves sinners, and the rest, sinners, who believe themselves righteous.” You have to think about that for a good while to get what he was saying.
Another way to state that wise truth is to say that there are two kinds of people: those who comprehend the meaning of grace and those who don’t. Grace is the unmerited love of God. God loves us unconditionally, whether we are righteous or not. If we finally allow ourselves to accept God’s grace, we will try to live in the manner God wants us to live. If we don’t accept His freely offered love, we fall into the trap of thinking we have to earn His love. It is one of many perpetual human dilemmas; either we accept the fact God accepts us even though we are unacceptable, or we try to merit His love by supposing ourselves to be righteous people who have earned His love - - - which we can’t do. It is as simple, and as painfully complex, as that.
Jesus was crucified because the Romans thought he might be organizing either an armed or a passive resistance against them, which he wasn’t. He also was crucified because the Religious High Mucky-Mucks of Judea thought he was calling into question their self-righteous theology, which he was. Genuine righteousness is the best path to follow for everybody. Unfortunately, self-righteousness is the path too many good people take.
Before I end this sermon about prostitutes, I want to try to clear up a common misunderstanding about Mary Magdalene, to whom I referred in the first of these sermons, the one about the mentally ill. Mary Magdalene was NOT a prostitute! I don’t know this, but I believe this: Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ most devoted disciple. She never made it into any of the three lists of disciples in the three Synoptic Gospels, because she was a woman, and nobody in the Early Church was going to allow such a scandalous notion to become orthodox. They were absolutely convinced that a woman could not become an official disciple of the Messiah.
All that aside, an early medieval pope conflated three stories from the Gospels into one story, and he came to the misogynistic conclusion that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. Ever since, millions of misguided Christians have harbored the same cockamamie idea in their cockamamie heads, including Nikos Kazantsakis in his novel The Last Temptation of Christ and maybe Dan Brown in The DaVinci Code. Mary of Magdala was not a prostitute. However, she apparently was a mentally ill woman, whom Jesus miraculously cured of her mental illness. For that she was forever indebted to him, and she followed him ever after as devotedly as did the twelve male disciples. The medieval pope probably meant well, but he was wrong, but you don’t need to get it wrong. So get it right, okay?
There is a constant theme in these The Company He Kept sermons. It is this: Jesus never turned anyone away who needed him: anyone. However far anyone may have strayed, however lost anyone might be, he never abandoned any of them because they didn’t pass muster with everyone else. He loved them, because he loved everybody, and he did that because he knew that God loves everybody. With God and Jesus, because all of us are human, everyone passes muster.
Jesus was a collector of lost souls. If ever we feel lost, that’s a good thing to remember.