(a fiction culled from dispersed facts)
Nisan 13
It’s just a few days before Pesach and we reluctantly find ourselves back in Bethany, just an arrow shot from the dangerous city of Jerusalem. Most of us don’t want to be here, but “disciples can’t be dictators”. This time of year Bethany is always crowded, noisy, expensive, and far from home, and on this trip you can add “unsettling”. Even among these crowds we feel like we stand out; like everyone is whispering about our being here. An uneasy tension hangs in the air like thick fog. I’m sure part of our anxiety is due to that strange thing Jesus has been saying for the past several weeks. “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the Chief Priests and to the scribes; and they will condemn Him to death, and deliver Him to the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to crucify. And the third day He will rise again.” We have learned to mistrust quick conclusions these past three-plus years. The Master has a way of speaking in mysteries wrapped in riddles, so we really couldn't know for sure what to make of this odd prediction. Last time we came to Bethany our friend Lazarus had just suddenly died. Thomas predicted that trip may be our last trip by bravely announcing “Let us go that we may die with him”. We didn't die - that time. After-all, we have witnessed Jesus calmly confronting, evading, and repelling the authorities before. In-fact, we've seen him make bread and fish out of practically nothing, calm a raging storm with a half sentence, heal life-long debilitating diseases, send demons running for cover, and even bring back folks from the dead, so we were pretty sure he was not actually going to be in any real danger. Still, something in my gut felt very different this time.
Everyone except Judas felt far from home. We were all Galileans except Judas. His family was Judean from Kerioth, a small town not too far south of here. They had moved to the city when his dad became a notable Jerusalem Pharisee. Simon Iscariot has since retired after a serious illness and now lives here in Bethany. A while back, Judas had confided in Jesus that his father had contracted leprosy and asked if he could “do his thing” for him. Jesus did. Even though most still call him Simon the leper, by all visible evidence he is completely cured, so he once again can spend time with some of his braver friends. I don’t think Judas actually expected Jesus to help his dad at the time, since both he and his father are reluctant believers, slower to accept many of the things Jesus says about himself. In-fact, I’m not sure Judas and his father ever fully credited Jesus with Simon’s healing. Jesus doesn't seem to care. Some of us think it’s obvious that Judas has never really cared for Jesus as much as he cares for himself, because we are pretty sure he has been helping himself to our community funds for a while. We've mentioned it to Jesus, but he doesn't seem to care about that either. I remember the day of Judas’ father’s healing Jesus told Judas that the gift of being healed is not primarily about making someone well, but is about God glorifying Himself. Jesus looked Judas in the eye and said “God is glorified whenever he does what only God can do”.
Every time we're back in this area, Judas takes some personal time to spend with his old friends and family. Although Judas is very well connected locally, the rest of us never go with him. We always feel very much like outsiders as known disciples of the one local bigots call “Jesus of Nazareth”. Today rumors swirl like chaff in the wind saying the Chief Priests and the Jerusalem Pharisees collude to capture or even possibly kill Jesus. They seem mostly concerned about an offhanded claim he made on a previous Passover visit to the city; some remark about building a temple in three days. They have not learned what we have learned; to simply take in what Jesus says and wait for understanding to come sometime later. I’m still waiting on that one myself. Still, we have heard and seen many strange and unexplainable things over the past three years. Even with all we have seen we were not prepared for what we witnessed last night.
The popular attitude of the Pharisees toward Jesus, and also toward us, is no secret. We are trying to be on guard at all times and keep as low a profile as possible while we are here, so we were shocked when Judas’ father asked Jesus to a dinner party, and more shocked when Jesus accepted the invitation. We knew old Simon Iscariot was a retired Pharisee that was still in touch with the local shakers and movers, even though he had lost his once-close position among them since his leprosy. Since now his leprosy has “disappeared”, I think he will do just about anything to get back into their good graces again. The dinner party last night was an attempt to do just that I suspect. All twelve of us were invited but only a few of us decided we should go and support Jesus. Those who didn’t go each had their personal reasons but Jesus didn't insist otherwise. That’s normal; it’s just how he is.
When we arrived the enlarged sun was approaching the horizon and the sky was turning orange. Inside the main room of the house, we saw that the table was set for many guests. Many tall candles were already lit and stood like palace guards down the middle of the entire length of the table. Beautiful brass lamps burned brightly, highlighting the brightly painted walls on which they hung and lending their light to this tastefully decorated upper-class home. We knew at least the food was going to be great since some of our close friends from the other side of town were hired by Simon to make and serve the meal. We have had this food before and it was going to be a real treat. Lazarus, our back-from-the-dead friend arrived for dinner at the same time as we did. We thought that was a little strange that he was also invited, but now I think I know why. Just as we had feared, our host had also invited some old friends from Jerusalem; other retired Pharisees and washed-up officials who were pitifully trying to remain important in high society. We were certain they were in attendance just to uncover things that they could leverage to their social advantage, by reporting their findings to the Chief Priest and those in positions to order the arrest, or worse, of Jesus and Lazarus since both were wanted men. From the moment we got there, Simon made sure we Galileans and Lazarus knew our place, making an obvious distinction between how he treated us and how he treated his important friends from the city. At the time I suspected the display of partiality was more to impress his other guests and less about trying to humiliate us. It didn't really matter. We were used to being slighted this way, but Jesus has taught us to hold our peace in these difficult situations and wait for the righteousness of God to appear. So, we patiently waited and silently prayed. In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing brother Peter didn't go with us. We were polite guests; we removed our shoes at the door, each of us brought the host a gift, we spoke respectfully as we engaged in small talk, we all took a place as near the foot of the table as possible, but we were constantly aware that we were about to dine with the enemy. I was nervous, but I kept silently repeating to myself something Jesus had taught us over a year ago: “I give you the authority to trample on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you. Nevertheless do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven.”
Shortly after everyone sat down, and the first round of wine was being poured, a woman we knew as a friend crept into the house unnoticed. I first caught a quick glimpse of her before I lost her again blending in among the busy servants buzzing about like bees. She was a woman with a checkered reputation that followed her around, constantly accusing her like the ghost of Shimei, the son of Gera. Like Simon, she too had been healed of her specific malady, but Simon would never have seen the commonality. I was sitting at the far end of the room next to Jesus who sat in the very lowest seat of the table. I regained and lost sight of her again, once, then twice, and then she quietly popped up right next to me directly behind Jesus. She hesitated for a long moment, drew a deep breath, and then with two fingers she gently lifted an orange translucent flask from her pocket. Those who were watching her immediately recognized the item as an alabaster; a flask named for the kind of mineral from which it was artfully carved. In case you don’t know, these alabasters are made from rock formations harvested from cave floors, so they are pretty expensive and generally used only to hold and preserve expensive fragrant oils. It’s not the kind of thing you would carry around or bring to a dinner party so we were all wondering what she planned to do with it. Was it a gift, an offering, a bribe, payment of a debt? Was she going to try to buy herself a place at the table? As we pondered we were surprised when we heard the top of the alabaster snap open. The caged scent of the oil burst out from the flask and immediately filled the room, quickly overpowering the aroma of roast lamb, lentils, and spices coming from the kitchen. We didn't get to smell this heavenly scent often, but everyone immediately recognized the fragrance as that of amber Spikenard. It’s not subtle; not a fragrance you easily forget. I was sitting right beside Jesus, so to me the aroma was powerful. At this point every thought in the room was captured by what she was about to do, every eye in the room was focused on this petite and pitiful uninvited woman; every eye but Jesus’. He seemed delightfully unaware of her standing behind him. Her knees seemed to crumble as she knelt hard behind Jesus. Spellbound, we watched as she poured Spikenard oil into her tiny hand. Fighting strong reluctance and the pressure of emotion building deep inside her, she lifted her hands to rub the fragrant oil on the head of Jesus. As soon as her hands touched his hair the floodgates broke open and she began sobbing uncontrollably, clutching his hair like it was her life line. Tears streaming down both cheeks poured like a spring thundershower onto Jesus’ bare feet below. Without thinking, and as if embarrassed, she immediately began wiping his soaked feet with her long black hair finding it hard to keep up against the overwhelming flood of tears. After every wipe of her hair, she would place a kiss in the dry spot as if to protect it from more tears. Our jaws fell wide open. I think we all felt tears welling up in our eyes and smiles growing on our faces as we began to make sense of this wildly noble act. Even Jesus wiped his eye with his sleeve as he turned to give her an assuring smile that silently shouted his love for her and his acceptance of her sacrificial gift. My friends and I recognized in her act a depth of gratitude and love we have all felt for Jesus, but have never had the nerve to demonstrate it, at least not with such an extravagant expression of genuine appreciation. Not everyone in attendance had the same reaction however. The other end of the table was not smiling.
Judas was the first to speak. “What a waste!” impulsively blurted out of the front of his face before he could even compose himself enough to formulate a politically correct response. Even he seemed surprised by his outburst. “What I mean is, so much good could have been done with that oil. If she had given it to us intact, don’t you realize that we could have sold it for as much as a whole year’s wages and with the money helped many poor families feed their kids and provide for ..” Jesus stood up cutting Judas off mid-sentence. “Leave her alone” he snapped. “You can always help the poor. She has treasured this oil for a long time in order to anoint my body at my funeral”. How he knew that I do not know. Thinking about it now, I’m guessing that she must have heard the same rumors we did. I can only imagine that she feared she would never get the opportunity to honor him in the way she had planned if the authorities ever did actually arrest him. This precious possession was only for the one she loved so much, and this may be her only chance to honor him with it, even if she had to do it while he was alive. Somehow Jesus knew her heart without her ever speaking a word. He was spot-on too, because she stopped sobbing and began wiping her soaked face on my back and shoulder. Ewwww. It was obviously that she was happy that at least Jesus knew exactly why she did such an outlandish thing. It wasn't only the woman’s heart that Jesus knew well. Still standing alone, Jesus turned and looked straight at Simon who was noticeably surprised since he hadn't said a thing. Even so, Jesus answered his thoughts as if he had spoken everything he was thinking right out loud. We, of course, had no idea what Simon was thinking, but were able to make a pretty good guess by how Jesus questioned him.
Jesus said “Simon, I have something to say to you.”
So Simon said, “Teacher, say it.”
Jesus said “There was a certain creditor who had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing with which to repay, he freely forgave them both. Tell Me, therefore, which of them will love him more?”
Simon thinking this may be a trick still had to admit, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”
The servers all stood still in their places holding their pitchers and platters, and stopped attending the guests. The cooks were poking their heads out of the kitchen door to see what the hold-up was. My friends and I were beginning to slowly put together what Jesus had already clearly seen in the heart of Simon. Later Jesus told us we were pretty close. Simon was thinking “If this man is truly a prophet, surely he would know what kind of woman it is that’s touching Him. How can he not know she’s a sinner?” My friends and I did know her, and who she had been, but I didn't expect that Simon would have known her. Hmmm. I also realize now that if Jesus knew what Simon was thinking then, he also knows everything else that is in Simon’s heart, including why we were invited to dinner in the first place. When I ponder this I remember what Jesus taught us shortly after we first got to know him. That day he strongly challenged us by saying “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you that you may be sons of your Father in heaven”. He was doing just that by having dinner at his house. I could see clearly that he truly is the Son of his Father in heaven.
By this time Simon also was on his feet trying to retain some dignity, hoping Jesus still thought he was his friend, while still trying to figure out where Jesus was going next with his leading question about the two debtors. Without missing a beat, Jesus sort of dropped the hammer on him. It was pure poetry to watch.
Jesus said to Simon, “You have judged rightly Simon. You have said it with your own mouth”
Then He turned and held his hand out toward the woman who was still on the floor with her head now down on her knees looking as if she had no arms or legs. Jesus said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? Well, think about it. When I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head. You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in. You did not anoint my head with common oil, but this woman has anointed even my feet with precious oil. Therefore I say to you, her sins, which as you know are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.” Then He put his hand on the shoulder of our brave female friend and said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
Those who sat at the head end of the table began to whisper among themselves, “Who does this guy think he is to say ‘your sins are forgiven’?” I remember thinking at the time “Now this is ironic. Simon thought Jesus didn't know who this insignificant woman was, and yet he and his friends don’t even recognize the Son of God having dinner with them.”
The poor woman was silent, and still as a stone. Still rolled up into as tiny of a ball as she could make herself, and trying to not be aware that everyone was looking at her, she was attempting to process what was happening while rejoicing that Jesus Messiah had just openly declared to a Pharisee that she was no longer a sinner. Jesus, recognizing that she was frozen not knowing what she was supposed to do next, compassionately helped her regain her composure. Softly grasping her head between his two hands he guided her gently to her feet and cocked his head downward as he tried to look into her downcast eyes. Nodding slightly as he said to her “It’s OK. Your faith has saved you. You can go now in peace.” It was as if the frozen blood in her veins suddenly warmed to new life. Normal color returned to her face. She lifted her eyes as she looked into the smiling eyes of Jesus, drew in a gasping breath like someone coming out of the water, blinked a couple of times, and briskly headed for the door. This time she didn't sneak her way through the crowded room draped in the shame of her past. This time, with all eyes on her and her head held high, she parted the crowd like the Red Sea as she marched right through their midst, and I swear her feet never touched the ground.
Jesus loves her, this she knows. Nothing else matters!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
References and the rest of the story:Leviticus 23:4-6
2 Samuel 16:5-8
Matthew 26:6-16; 20:17-19; 5:44-45
Mark 14:1-11
Luke 7:36-50; 10:19-20
Nisan 13
It’s just a few days before Pesach and we reluctantly find ourselves back in Bethany, just an arrow shot from the dangerous city of Jerusalem. Most of us don’t want to be here, but “disciples can’t be dictators”. This time of year Bethany is always crowded, noisy, expensive, and far from home, and on this trip you can add “unsettling”. Even among these crowds we feel like we stand out; like everyone is whispering about our being here. An uneasy tension hangs in the air like thick fog. I’m sure part of our anxiety is due to that strange thing Jesus has been saying for the past several weeks. “Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the Chief Priests and to the scribes; and they will condemn Him to death, and deliver Him to the Gentiles to mock and to scourge and to crucify. And the third day He will rise again.” We have learned to mistrust quick conclusions these past three-plus years. The Master has a way of speaking in mysteries wrapped in riddles, so we really couldn't know for sure what to make of this odd prediction. Last time we came to Bethany our friend Lazarus had just suddenly died. Thomas predicted that trip may be our last trip by bravely announcing “Let us go that we may die with him”. We didn't die - that time. After-all, we have witnessed Jesus calmly confronting, evading, and repelling the authorities before. In-fact, we've seen him make bread and fish out of practically nothing, calm a raging storm with a half sentence, heal life-long debilitating diseases, send demons running for cover, and even bring back folks from the dead, so we were pretty sure he was not actually going to be in any real danger. Still, something in my gut felt very different this time.
Everyone except Judas felt far from home. We were all Galileans except Judas. His family was Judean from Kerioth, a small town not too far south of here. They had moved to the city when his dad became a notable Jerusalem Pharisee. Simon Iscariot has since retired after a serious illness and now lives here in Bethany. A while back, Judas had confided in Jesus that his father had contracted leprosy and asked if he could “do his thing” for him. Jesus did. Even though most still call him Simon the leper, by all visible evidence he is completely cured, so he once again can spend time with some of his braver friends. I don’t think Judas actually expected Jesus to help his dad at the time, since both he and his father are reluctant believers, slower to accept many of the things Jesus says about himself. In-fact, I’m not sure Judas and his father ever fully credited Jesus with Simon’s healing. Jesus doesn't seem to care. Some of us think it’s obvious that Judas has never really cared for Jesus as much as he cares for himself, because we are pretty sure he has been helping himself to our community funds for a while. We've mentioned it to Jesus, but he doesn't seem to care about that either. I remember the day of Judas’ father’s healing Jesus told Judas that the gift of being healed is not primarily about making someone well, but is about God glorifying Himself. Jesus looked Judas in the eye and said “God is glorified whenever he does what only God can do”.
Every time we're back in this area, Judas takes some personal time to spend with his old friends and family. Although Judas is very well connected locally, the rest of us never go with him. We always feel very much like outsiders as known disciples of the one local bigots call “Jesus of Nazareth”. Today rumors swirl like chaff in the wind saying the Chief Priests and the Jerusalem Pharisees collude to capture or even possibly kill Jesus. They seem mostly concerned about an offhanded claim he made on a previous Passover visit to the city; some remark about building a temple in three days. They have not learned what we have learned; to simply take in what Jesus says and wait for understanding to come sometime later. I’m still waiting on that one myself. Still, we have heard and seen many strange and unexplainable things over the past three years. Even with all we have seen we were not prepared for what we witnessed last night.
The popular attitude of the Pharisees toward Jesus, and also toward us, is no secret. We are trying to be on guard at all times and keep as low a profile as possible while we are here, so we were shocked when Judas’ father asked Jesus to a dinner party, and more shocked when Jesus accepted the invitation. We knew old Simon Iscariot was a retired Pharisee that was still in touch with the local shakers and movers, even though he had lost his once-close position among them since his leprosy. Since now his leprosy has “disappeared”, I think he will do just about anything to get back into their good graces again. The dinner party last night was an attempt to do just that I suspect. All twelve of us were invited but only a few of us decided we should go and support Jesus. Those who didn’t go each had their personal reasons but Jesus didn't insist otherwise. That’s normal; it’s just how he is.
When we arrived the enlarged sun was approaching the horizon and the sky was turning orange. Inside the main room of the house, we saw that the table was set for many guests. Many tall candles were already lit and stood like palace guards down the middle of the entire length of the table. Beautiful brass lamps burned brightly, highlighting the brightly painted walls on which they hung and lending their light to this tastefully decorated upper-class home. We knew at least the food was going to be great since some of our close friends from the other side of town were hired by Simon to make and serve the meal. We have had this food before and it was going to be a real treat. Lazarus, our back-from-the-dead friend arrived for dinner at the same time as we did. We thought that was a little strange that he was also invited, but now I think I know why. Just as we had feared, our host had also invited some old friends from Jerusalem; other retired Pharisees and washed-up officials who were pitifully trying to remain important in high society. We were certain they were in attendance just to uncover things that they could leverage to their social advantage, by reporting their findings to the Chief Priest and those in positions to order the arrest, or worse, of Jesus and Lazarus since both were wanted men. From the moment we got there, Simon made sure we Galileans and Lazarus knew our place, making an obvious distinction between how he treated us and how he treated his important friends from the city. At the time I suspected the display of partiality was more to impress his other guests and less about trying to humiliate us. It didn't really matter. We were used to being slighted this way, but Jesus has taught us to hold our peace in these difficult situations and wait for the righteousness of God to appear. So, we patiently waited and silently prayed. In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing brother Peter didn't go with us. We were polite guests; we removed our shoes at the door, each of us brought the host a gift, we spoke respectfully as we engaged in small talk, we all took a place as near the foot of the table as possible, but we were constantly aware that we were about to dine with the enemy. I was nervous, but I kept silently repeating to myself something Jesus had taught us over a year ago: “I give you the authority to trample on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall by any means hurt you. Nevertheless do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven.”
Shortly after everyone sat down, and the first round of wine was being poured, a woman we knew as a friend crept into the house unnoticed. I first caught a quick glimpse of her before I lost her again blending in among the busy servants buzzing about like bees. She was a woman with a checkered reputation that followed her around, constantly accusing her like the ghost of Shimei, the son of Gera. Like Simon, she too had been healed of her specific malady, but Simon would never have seen the commonality. I was sitting at the far end of the room next to Jesus who sat in the very lowest seat of the table. I regained and lost sight of her again, once, then twice, and then she quietly popped up right next to me directly behind Jesus. She hesitated for a long moment, drew a deep breath, and then with two fingers she gently lifted an orange translucent flask from her pocket. Those who were watching her immediately recognized the item as an alabaster; a flask named for the kind of mineral from which it was artfully carved. In case you don’t know, these alabasters are made from rock formations harvested from cave floors, so they are pretty expensive and generally used only to hold and preserve expensive fragrant oils. It’s not the kind of thing you would carry around or bring to a dinner party so we were all wondering what she planned to do with it. Was it a gift, an offering, a bribe, payment of a debt? Was she going to try to buy herself a place at the table? As we pondered we were surprised when we heard the top of the alabaster snap open. The caged scent of the oil burst out from the flask and immediately filled the room, quickly overpowering the aroma of roast lamb, lentils, and spices coming from the kitchen. We didn't get to smell this heavenly scent often, but everyone immediately recognized the fragrance as that of amber Spikenard. It’s not subtle; not a fragrance you easily forget. I was sitting right beside Jesus, so to me the aroma was powerful. At this point every thought in the room was captured by what she was about to do, every eye in the room was focused on this petite and pitiful uninvited woman; every eye but Jesus’. He seemed delightfully unaware of her standing behind him. Her knees seemed to crumble as she knelt hard behind Jesus. Spellbound, we watched as she poured Spikenard oil into her tiny hand. Fighting strong reluctance and the pressure of emotion building deep inside her, she lifted her hands to rub the fragrant oil on the head of Jesus. As soon as her hands touched his hair the floodgates broke open and she began sobbing uncontrollably, clutching his hair like it was her life line. Tears streaming down both cheeks poured like a spring thundershower onto Jesus’ bare feet below. Without thinking, and as if embarrassed, she immediately began wiping his soaked feet with her long black hair finding it hard to keep up against the overwhelming flood of tears. After every wipe of her hair, she would place a kiss in the dry spot as if to protect it from more tears. Our jaws fell wide open. I think we all felt tears welling up in our eyes and smiles growing on our faces as we began to make sense of this wildly noble act. Even Jesus wiped his eye with his sleeve as he turned to give her an assuring smile that silently shouted his love for her and his acceptance of her sacrificial gift. My friends and I recognized in her act a depth of gratitude and love we have all felt for Jesus, but have never had the nerve to demonstrate it, at least not with such an extravagant expression of genuine appreciation. Not everyone in attendance had the same reaction however. The other end of the table was not smiling.
Judas was the first to speak. “What a waste!” impulsively blurted out of the front of his face before he could even compose himself enough to formulate a politically correct response. Even he seemed surprised by his outburst. “What I mean is, so much good could have been done with that oil. If she had given it to us intact, don’t you realize that we could have sold it for as much as a whole year’s wages and with the money helped many poor families feed their kids and provide for ..” Jesus stood up cutting Judas off mid-sentence. “Leave her alone” he snapped. “You can always help the poor. She has treasured this oil for a long time in order to anoint my body at my funeral”. How he knew that I do not know. Thinking about it now, I’m guessing that she must have heard the same rumors we did. I can only imagine that she feared she would never get the opportunity to honor him in the way she had planned if the authorities ever did actually arrest him. This precious possession was only for the one she loved so much, and this may be her only chance to honor him with it, even if she had to do it while he was alive. Somehow Jesus knew her heart without her ever speaking a word. He was spot-on too, because she stopped sobbing and began wiping her soaked face on my back and shoulder. Ewwww. It was obviously that she was happy that at least Jesus knew exactly why she did such an outlandish thing. It wasn't only the woman’s heart that Jesus knew well. Still standing alone, Jesus turned and looked straight at Simon who was noticeably surprised since he hadn't said a thing. Even so, Jesus answered his thoughts as if he had spoken everything he was thinking right out loud. We, of course, had no idea what Simon was thinking, but were able to make a pretty good guess by how Jesus questioned him.
Jesus said “Simon, I have something to say to you.”
So Simon said, “Teacher, say it.”
Jesus said “There was a certain creditor who had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing with which to repay, he freely forgave them both. Tell Me, therefore, which of them will love him more?”
Simon thinking this may be a trick still had to admit, “I suppose the one whom he forgave more.”
The servers all stood still in their places holding their pitchers and platters, and stopped attending the guests. The cooks were poking their heads out of the kitchen door to see what the hold-up was. My friends and I were beginning to slowly put together what Jesus had already clearly seen in the heart of Simon. Later Jesus told us we were pretty close. Simon was thinking “If this man is truly a prophet, surely he would know what kind of woman it is that’s touching Him. How can he not know she’s a sinner?” My friends and I did know her, and who she had been, but I didn't expect that Simon would have known her. Hmmm. I also realize now that if Jesus knew what Simon was thinking then, he also knows everything else that is in Simon’s heart, including why we were invited to dinner in the first place. When I ponder this I remember what Jesus taught us shortly after we first got to know him. That day he strongly challenged us by saying “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you that you may be sons of your Father in heaven”. He was doing just that by having dinner at his house. I could see clearly that he truly is the Son of his Father in heaven.
By this time Simon also was on his feet trying to retain some dignity, hoping Jesus still thought he was his friend, while still trying to figure out where Jesus was going next with his leading question about the two debtors. Without missing a beat, Jesus sort of dropped the hammer on him. It was pure poetry to watch.
Jesus said to Simon, “You have judged rightly Simon. You have said it with your own mouth”
Then He turned and held his hand out toward the woman who was still on the floor with her head now down on her knees looking as if she had no arms or legs. Jesus said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? Well, think about it. When I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head. You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in. You did not anoint my head with common oil, but this woman has anointed even my feet with precious oil. Therefore I say to you, her sins, which as you know are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.” Then He put his hand on the shoulder of our brave female friend and said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
Those who sat at the head end of the table began to whisper among themselves, “Who does this guy think he is to say ‘your sins are forgiven’?” I remember thinking at the time “Now this is ironic. Simon thought Jesus didn't know who this insignificant woman was, and yet he and his friends don’t even recognize the Son of God having dinner with them.”
The poor woman was silent, and still as a stone. Still rolled up into as tiny of a ball as she could make herself, and trying to not be aware that everyone was looking at her, she was attempting to process what was happening while rejoicing that Jesus Messiah had just openly declared to a Pharisee that she was no longer a sinner. Jesus, recognizing that she was frozen not knowing what she was supposed to do next, compassionately helped her regain her composure. Softly grasping her head between his two hands he guided her gently to her feet and cocked his head downward as he tried to look into her downcast eyes. Nodding slightly as he said to her “It’s OK. Your faith has saved you. You can go now in peace.” It was as if the frozen blood in her veins suddenly warmed to new life. Normal color returned to her face. She lifted her eyes as she looked into the smiling eyes of Jesus, drew in a gasping breath like someone coming out of the water, blinked a couple of times, and briskly headed for the door. This time she didn't sneak her way through the crowded room draped in the shame of her past. This time, with all eyes on her and her head held high, she parted the crowd like the Red Sea as she marched right through their midst, and I swear her feet never touched the ground.
Jesus loves her, this she knows. Nothing else matters!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
References and the rest of the story:Leviticus 23:4-6
2 Samuel 16:5-8
Matthew 26:6-16; 20:17-19; 5:44-45
Mark 14:1-11
Luke 7:36-50; 10:19-20
