8 September 2017 — A quien perdonó más
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When you look at a painting, what do you look for first?
Some people stand well back and let the full sweep of it wash over them: the glorious colours, the contrasts, the light and shade.
Some people focus at once on the characters, the people in the scene. Are they happy or sad, noble or wicked, quiet or agitated? What are they thinking?
Others like to look for the way in which the artist has used the picture to comment on the world of his or her day, on its social or perhaps political issues.
Others again—perhaps artists themselves—may begin by coming up close and seeing how, with each individual brushstroke, the artist has built up to an overall effect.
The scene now before us is another of Luke’s great ‘paintings’, and each of the possible lines of approach will work. The story of Jesus at the house of Simon the Pharisee is as full of meaning, of gospel, as any story in the New Testament. But it’s also full of sheer artistry that brings the gospel up in three-dimensional, vivid reality.
Consider first the overall effect. Though several others are mentioned, three characters dominate the stage: Simon the Pharisee, Jesus and the unnamed woman. (Ellen White tells us that this is the same scene as the one we find in and the similar passages in and ) The balance of the scene is superb, with Jesus keeping his poise between the outrageous adoration of the woman and the equally outrageous rudeness of his host—and yet coming up with something fresh, something which, to the onlookers, was just as outrageous as the behaviour of the other two. The story sweeps to and fro between the three of them with passion and power.
The central characters, though sketched in only a few strokes, are vivid and credible. Simon of Bethany was accounted a disciple of Jesus. He was one of the few Pharisees who had openly joined Christ’s followers. He acknowledged Jesus as a teacher, and hoped that He might be the Messiah, but he had not accepted Him as a Saviour. His character was not transformed; his principles were unchanged.
Simon of Bethany was accounted a disciple of Jesus. He was one of the few Pharisees who had openly joined Christ’s followers. He acknowledged Jesus as a teacher, and hoped that He might be the Messiah, but he had not accepted Him as a Saviour. His character was not transformed; his principles were unchanged.
Simon of Bethany was accounted a disciple of Jesus. He was one of the few Pharisees who had openly joined Christ’s followers. He acknowledged Jesus as a teacher, and hoped that He might be the Messiah, but he had not accepted Him as a Saviour. His character was not transformed; his principles were unchanged.
Simon had been healed of the leprosy, and it was this that had drawn him to Jesus. He desired to show his gratitude, and at Christ’s last visit to Bethany he made a feast for the Saviour and His disciples. This feast brought together many of the Jews. There was at this time much excitement at Jerusalem. Christ and His mission were attracting greater attention than ever before. Those who had come to the feast closely watched His movements, and some of them with unfriendly eyes.
He has heard the rumours that maybe Jesus is a prophet (7:16), and he is keen to see for himself. He thinks he’s found the answer (Jesus can’t be a prophet because he hasn’t realized what sort of a woman this is), only to be proved doubly wrong (Jesus knows what she has been and what she now is—a forgiven sinner—and what he, Simon, is thinking). Luke, telling the story, has emphasized three times in the first two sentences that he is a Pharisee, and that it is to his house that both Jesus and this woman have come.
The woman is an uninvited guest. What we think of as ‘private life’ in the modern West was largely unknown in Jesus’ world: doors would often remain open, allowing beggars, extra friends, or simply curious passers-by to wander in. The woman intends, it seems, to anoint Jesus; we learn finally that this is an expression of grateful love because she has received God’s overflowing forgiveness; but when she finds herself before him she is overcome, and his feet are wet with her tears before she can get the ointment jar open. Then, trying to make things better, she makes them worse as far as the onlookers are concerned: she lets down her hair, something no decent woman would do in public, and wipes his feet, kissing them all the while, and finally doing what she came for, anointing them.
Now look at this painting through the eyes of the artist, describing his world—in other words, for Luke, showing what happens when God’s love in the gospel impacts on a human situation. Luke has shown us how Jesus, in Nazareth and then in the great sermon, stands on its head the normal expectation of what would happen when God brought in his kingdom. It would be a time of exuberant generosity, surprising grace, and at the same time fierce opposition which would meet God’s judgment. Now we see, in a single incident, what this looks like in practice. Social convention is thrown out of the window; forgiveness and love set new standards and raise new expectations; human beings appear, not as society has ‘constructed’ them, but as God sees them. Several of the parables in Luke have a similar ‘reversal’ at their heart: think of the ‘prodigal son’ in , or the ‘Pharisee and tax-collector’ in . Luke lived in a church which was coming to terms with God’s astonishing reversal of fortune. Many Jews had rejected the message about Jesus, but many non-Jews were accepting it and flooding into the church, delighted (as was this woman) that their sins were forgiven by the God of generous love.
When we look closer at the detail of the story, one of the things we notice is the way in which Jesus turns the tables on the Pharisee. He is the one who is guilty of poor hospitality—almost as much of a social blunder as the woman’s letting down of her hair. The Pharisee has never come to terms with the depths of his own heart, and so doesn’t appreciate God’s generous love when it sits in person at his own table. For Luke, true faith is what happens when someone looks at Jesus and discovers God’s forgiveness; and the sign and proof of this faith is love.
Wright, T. (2004). Luke for Everyone (pp. 90–92). London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.
We do not know exactly why Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus to dine in his home. Perhaps because Jesus had preached in the synagogue, and it was considered a meritorious act to invite traveling rabbis to a Sabbath meal. No doubt Simon also had other reasons. Perhaps he was curious. Maybe he liked to boast about the celebrities he knew. It is even possible that he had some spiritual interest, because in Jesus’ time there were small study groups called haberim that held common meals for the purpose of religious study.
Whatever the reason for Simon’s inviting Jesus to dine with him, they were overlaid with a nasty animosity, for Simon purposely omitted the common courtesies accorded any honored dinner guest. Normally the host placed his hand on the guest’s shoulder and gave him the kiss of peace. But this was not done for Jesus. Customarily a guest’s sandals were removed and his feet were washed when he entered or while he reclined at the table, thus removing the dust of the street and refreshing him. Jesus’ feet were left embarrassingly dirty. Dinner guests were also anointed with a touch of olive oil. But there was no such kindness for Jesus.
Simon treated Jesus with callous, calculated contempt. He carefully avoided every custom that would make the Lord feel at home. And all the guests and onlookers knew it as they took their places around the table.
In that day the homes of well-to-do people were built around central courtyards in which formal meals were served. The guests reclined on the left elbow on low-lying couches, eating with the right hand. One’s feet would extend away from the table, in keeping with the belief that the feet were unclean and offensive by nature. At such occasions the doors of the home were kept open, and the uninvited townspeople were free to wander in to observe the conversation. Typically there was a great deal of coming and going by the onlookers.
So, many people, in addition to Simon’s dinner guests, were aware that Jesus had been slighted as his grimy feet extended behind for all to see. Though Jesus was perfectly at ease, the conversation was strained.
What do you say to your guest whom you have so insulted? “How was your walk over here?… A bit dusty you say?… Yes, I suppose we could do with a wash—er, some rain, I mean!”
Everyone sensed that a lively exchange was imminent. But no one expected what followed. It began with a chorus of murmurs as a woman emerged from the shadows and silently stood behind the feet of Jesus.
Jesus Anointed (vv. 36–38)
Uno de los fariseos rogó a Jesús que comiese con él. Y habiendo entrado en casa del fariseo, se sentó a la mesa.Entonces una mujer de la ciudad, que era pecadora, al saber que Jesús estaba a la mesa en casa del fariseo, trajo un frasco de alabastro con perfume;y estando detrás de él a sus pies, llorando, comenzó a regar con lágrimas sus pies, y los enjugaba con sus cabellos; y besaba sus pies, y los ungía con el perfume.
Then one of the Pharisees asked Him to eat with him. And He went to the Pharisee’s house, and sat down to eat. And behold, a woman in the city who was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at the table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of fragrant oil, and stood at His feet behind Him weeping; and she began to wash His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head; and she kissed His feet and anointed them with the fragrant oil.
Lucas 7:36–
Our English translation obscures the onlookers’ shock because “When a woman” entonces una mujer (the opening phrase) is literally, “And look, a woman!” The shock was due primarily to the woman’s being “a sinner” es pecadora(v. 39). This term allows two possibilities. One is that she was married to a prominent sinner, the other is that she was a prostitute. The latter seems apparent from Simon’s revulsion at her actually touching Jesus, as recorded in verse 39. This is the view of most commentators, older and modern.
Lucas 7:36–38
When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. (vv. 37, 38)
Our English translation obscures the onlookers’ shock because “When a woman” (the opening phrase) is literally, “And look, a woman!” The shock was due primarily to the woman’s being “a sinner” (v. 39). This term allows two possibilities. One is that she was married to a prominent sinner, the other is that she was a prostitute. The latter seems apparent from Simon’s revulsion at her actually touching Jesus, as recorded in verse 39. This is the view of most commentators, older and modern.
As the notorious woman remained bent over the Lord’s feet, the murmurs gave way to an embarrassing silence. Not only was she in an obvious state of emotional agitation, but to be in the Pharisee’s house at all was a grave breach of social decorum. Her damp, quivering hands clasped a small, thin-necked alabaster vial frasco de alabastro of concentrated perfume with which she obviously intended to anoint Jesus’ feet.
She was there because of gratitude. Somewhere, somehow, possibly through a public sermon or maybe through a private, unrecorded conversation, Jesus’ words had gone to her heart, and she had turned to him and so found forgiveness. Her joy, coupled with the sorrow of seeing Jesus so disgracefully treated by Simon, thrust her forward to do him honor—disregarding the rejection and opprobrium that were sure to come her way.
She was at his feet with her perfume, about to anoint the Savior’s feet, when everything went wrong! Her tears began to fall like raindrops in the dust, streaking his soiled feet. She had not meant for this to happen! And she had no towel. So the poor woman did the best she could by unloosing her long hair and wiping clean the Master’s feet. This was socially unacceptable, because a woman was to loosen her hair only in the presence of her husband. The Talmud says that a woman could be divorced for letting down her hair in the presence of another man. So grave was the offense that the rabbis put a woman’s loosening her hair and uncovering her breasts in the same category.6 The guests and the onlookers were in intense shock.
But the woman kept on anointing the Lord’s feet. The aroma filled the courtyard. Then she repeatedly kissed his feet. The Greek verb means “to kiss again and again.” The woman was a self-forgetful mess—crying unashamedly, her nose runny with weeping, her hair stringy with the muddy mixture of dirt and tears.
I would be embarrassed if I saw such a display. Yet, though it was clearly passionate, it was not erotic. It was a beautiful and fully proper outpouring of love by a redeemed soul. Slaves were assigned to attend the feet of others, but she washed his feet at her own command. It was an act of desperately joyous humility.
This dear woman loved Jesus! And she was in the spring of spiritual health. C. S. Lewis once wrote to a little girl, “If you continue to love Jesus, nothing much can go wrong with you, and I hope you may always do so.” Here we have a grown woman, with far more experience in life than the little girl, most of which she would rather forget—but she loved Jesus. Despite her sad past, she was brimming with spiritual life!
Consider her tears. This woman had been living with intense guilt. Having broken the seventh commandment, she was guilty, and her culture let her know it wherever she went. But now her guilt was gone—and the crushing burden had been lifted from her shoulders! So she wept. She had been given a virgin heart. She felt pure, washed. Her life had been one of constant rejection, but now she was accepted by God. Her tears were tears of both ongoing repentance and ongoing joy.
Consider her hair. It was her womanly glory, but she loosed it to wipe the Savior’s feet. Her comeliness was devoted to Jesus’ glory. She was his servant, and his glory was her first priority.
Consider her kisses. They were acts of pure adoration. Here was a sinner’s expression like the heart of the virgin Mary—
Entonces María dijo:
Engrandece mi alma al Señor;
Y mi espíritu se regocija en Dios mi Salvador.
Porque ha mirado la bajeza de su sierva;
Pues he aquí, desde ahora me dirán bienaventurada todas las generaciones.
Lucas 1:46
Here was a woman who loved Christ! What an example for all of us!
“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant” (1:46–48). Here was a woman who loved Christ! What an example for all of us!
But above all, consider Jesus Christ! He was not put off by the woman’s fleshly sins. When she came to him, she sensed nothing of the judgmentalism of the self-righteous. Jesus did not have the conventional moralism that condemns outward sins while ignoring inward sins. Jesus freely received and redeemed her as she came to him in faith and repentance.
The good news is, Jesus, our Creator and Redeemer, has not changed (cf. ). The one who loved and forgave her loves and forgives us!
Up to this point, not a word has been spoken. No one has addressed the woman. There has been nothing said by anyone in the room. That was about to change.
The Exchange (vv. 39–50)
The drama naturally switches from the woman to the response of Simon, Jesus’ host. Simon’s thoughts were filled with indignant judgmentalism—
Cuando vio esto el fariseo que le había convidado, dijo para sí: Este, si fuera profeta, conocería quién y qué clase de mujer es la que le toca, que es pecadora.
Just how utterly contemptuous Simon’s thoughts were is revealed by the word he uses for the woman’s touching Jesus. Kenneth Bailey, one-time chairman of the Biblical Department of the New Eaton School of Theology, Beirut, says:
“If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner” (v. 39). Just how utterly contemptuous Simon’s thoughts were is revealed by the word he uses for the woman’s touching Jesus. Kenneth Bailey, one-time chairman of the Biblical Department of the New Eaton School of Theology, Beirut, says:
… the word “to touch” in biblical language is used on occasion for sexual intercourse (; ; ).
Y le dijo Dios en sueños: Yo también sé que con integridad de tu corazón has hecho esto; y yo también te detuve de pecar contra mí, y así no te permití que la tocases.
Así es el que se llega a la mujer de su prójimo;
No quedará impune ninguno que la tocare.
Obviously this is not intended here, but Simon’s use of this word in this context has clear sexual overtones. He is affirming that in his opinion it is all very improper and Jesus (if he were a prophet) would know who she was and would (of course) refuse this attention from such a woman.
Obviously this is not intended here, but Simon’s use of this word in this context has clear sexual overtones. He is affirming that in his opinion it is all very improper and Jesus (if he were a prophet) would know who she was and would (of course) refuse this attention from such a woman.
Obviously this is not intended here, but Simon’s use of this word in this context has clear sexual overtones. He is affirming that in his opinion it is all very improper and Jesus (if he were a prophet) would know who she was and would (of course) refuse this attention from such a woman.
Simon’s righteousness was the kind that would prefer that Jesus kick the repentant woman away, back to her sin and misery. What an indictment of Simon this actually was. He saw the woman perform an act of repentance and devotion and called her a “sinner”! Simon, the moralist, had an arctic heart, a permafrost of the soul—Dante’s Cocytus: Hell frozen over. He had a heart without grace.
In reality, of course, Jesus knew precisely what was going on in the woman’s heart—and in Simon’s heart too. So the Lord decided to teach him a few things with a little parable:
Jesus answered him,
Entonces respondiendo Jesús, le dijo: Simón, una cosa tengo que decirte. Y él le dijo: Di, Maestro.Un acreedor tenía dos deudores: el uno le debía quinientos denarios, y el otro cincuenta;y no teniendo ellos con qué pagar, perdonó a ambos. Di, pues, ¿cuál de ellos le amará más?
Their Common Debt
“Simon, I have something to tell you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. “Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” (vv. 40–42)
Their Common Debt
The debtors in this mini-parable are, of course, metaphorical for sinners. Both men have considerable debts because a denarius was equivalent to one day’s wage for a common working man. Quite simply, it would take fifty working days to eliminate the one man’s debt, and 500 for the other! These were incredible debts considering that average wages were barely sufficient for survival. What Jesus was saying was that according to conventional, outward morality, the woman was a “500 sinner” and Simon a “fifty sinner.” Outwardly, she was ten times as sinful. “Yes, Simon, you are a whole lot better than this prostitute. She’s dirty. Her innocence has been defiled innumerable times. She has been wallowing in sin. But you, with your rigid morality, have kept yourself from those things. Go ahead, give yourself some credit.”
Simón había arrastrado al pecado a la mujer a quien ahora despreciaba. Ella había sido muy perjudicada por él. Por los dos deudores de la parábola estaban representados Simón y la mujer. Jesús no se propuso enseñar qué grado de obligación debían sentir las dos personas, porque cada una tenía una deuda de gratitud que nunca podría pagar. Pero Simón se sentía más justo que María, y Jesús deseaba que viese cuán grande era realmente su culpa. Deseaba mostrarle que su pecado superaba al de María en la medida en que la deuda de quinientos denarios excedía a la de cincuenta. {DTG 519.5}
Simón empezó ahora a verse a sí mismo desde un nuevo punto de vista. Vió cómo era considerada María por quien era más que profeta. Vió que, con penetrante ojo profético, Cristo había leído el corazón de amor y devoción de ella. Sobrecogido de vergüenza, comprendió que estaba en la presencia de uno que era superior a él.
Of course, the penetrating point is that they were both sinners. One had ten times the volume of outward sin, but they were both guilty inside. The “high-class” moralist had the same problem as the “low-class” prostitute. Simon apparently did not have the slightest understanding of this and is thus a good representative of thousands of religious sinners who have lived and died in the succeeding years.
The great supporter of the eighteenth-century ministries of John Wesley and George Whitefield, the Countess of Huntingdon, once invited a duchess to hear Whitefield preach and received this amazing written reply:
It is monstrous to be told, that you have a heart as sinful as the common wretches that crawl on the earth. This is highly offensive and insulting; and I cannot but wonder that your Ladyship should relish any sentiments so much at variance with high rank and good breeding.
Only a twitty duchess, raised in the insular, racist, upper class of old England, would say such a thing. But thousands have used such thinking to avoid applying Christ’s teaching to themselves—“Good people just don’t need that kind of religion. Grace is for big-time sinners, not for people like me. I don’t need it!”
Their Common Insolvency
But such people are so wrong. Jesus’ point is not only that both Simon the moralist and the prostitute were debtors/sinners, but that both were equally insolvent. If you are unable to pay, it does not matter how great the debt is. You are insolvent, period! And that is the condition of the whole human race.
por cuanto todos pecaron, y están destituidos de la gloria de Dios,
This doesn’t mean that men and women cannot improve themselves or their character to some extent, but rather that they cannot wipe out their status as debtors—sinners.
“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (). This doesn’t mean that men and women cannot improve themselves or their character to some extent, but rather that they cannot wipe out their status as debtors—sinners.
What we all must understand is that the condition for being forgiven is to realize that we are broke and insolvent, whether we are accomplished moralists or accomplished sinners. This is the problem—people keep trying to persuade God to accept the currency of their own making. Some submit the currency of integrity. “God, I work with compulsive liars. The only honest man I know is myself. Surely I’m acceptable.” Others would argue that their domestic currency ought to make it. “In this X-rated world, my life is a wholesome G. I’m faithful to my wife. I love her and my children. I am a good husband, father, and son. I reckon that’s all I’ll need!” Social currency is a favorite too. “I am truly color-blind. My money (lots of it!) goes to the needy. I volunteer at the crisis pregnancy center. I really do care. The world needs more people like me, and so does heaven.” Church currency is perhaps the biggest delusion. “I live at church. My goodness will surely be accepted.”
God does recognize these things, but nevertheless we are all debtors. Regardless of our individual morality, we are all broke. The woman realized that she could never pay what she owed—so God paid it all.
This is what the cross is all about. No one could ever achieve the holy perfection necessary to stand before God. Sin infects every area of our lives, no matter how “good” we are. Perfect, sinless (debt-free, wealthy) Jesus chose to die, the perfect for the imperfect, so we could have life. Simon the Pharisee was blinded to his need by his self-righteousness. But the woman was illumined to her need by her sin.
It is only by God’s mercy that we are aware of our sin.
Their Love
In verses 42, 43 our Lord asked Simon:
y no teniendo ellos con qué pagar, perdonó a ambos. Di, pues, ¿cuál de ellos le amará más?
Lu
[start with …Di pues]
Simon didn’t realize all the implications of what Jesus said, but he realized enough to see that he was trapped, so he grudgingly answered,
Respondiendo Simón, dijo: Pienso que aquel a quien perdonó más. Y él le dijo: Rectamente has juzgado.
Lucas 7
Those who have been forgiven the most love the most! Some of the greatest sinners have made the greatest saints!
“I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled.” Those who have been forgiven the most love the most! Some of the greatest sinners have made the greatest saints!
St. Augustine is the greatest classic example. As a seventeen-year-old student he acquired a live-in girlfriend who shared his bed for a decade and bore him an illegitimate son. At the age of twenty-three Augustine authored a book with a title that today sounds very twentieth-century—On the Beautiful and the Fit. But then, through the prayers of his mother, he came to see his sin, was converted, and became Augustine of Hippo, the greatest theologian of the early church.
Similarly, John Newton, author of the great hymn “Amazing Grace,” had once been a debauchee and a slave trader.
Some people whom we would not touch with a ten-foot pole, if they met Christ, would put us to shame with their fervent love. Such people love much because they have been forgiven much—and they cannot get over it.
However, this does not mean that unless one falls into the depths of sin, he or she cannot love God deeply. What is necessary is a consciousness of sin. The depth and passion of our personal Christianity depends on how clearly we see our personal guilt—and then our forgiveness in Christ.
Why do many Christians show so little love for Christ? Because they have never truly seen what great sinners they are, and then how sure, sweet, and complete Christ’s forgiveness is. Such people, though believers, treat the Lord very much the way Simon had treated Jesus.
Y vuelto a la mujer, dijo a Simón: ¿Ves esta mujer? Entré en tu casa, y no me diste agua para mis pies; mas ésta ha regado mis pies con lágrimas, y los ha enjugado con sus cabellos.No me diste beso; mas ésta, desde que entré, no ha cesado de besar mis pies.No ungiste mi cabeza con aceite; mas ésta ha ungido con perfume mis pies.
When Jesus touches some people’s lives, they do the minimum in return. They seem to have no water for his feet or oil for his head. The kisses are grudging, if there are any at all. There is no impulse from the heart. They do their “religious duties” (what a miserable phrase!), but there is no soul in it.
Then he turned toward 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.” (vv. 44–46)
When Jesus touches some people’s lives, they do the minimum in return. They seem to have no water for his feet or oil for his head. The kisses are grudging, if there are any at all. There is no impulse from the heart. They do their “religious duties” (what a miserable phrase!), but there is no soul in it.
They need to really see the sin that lies within—and the more-than-sufficient grace of God. They need to know what they really are. As a great American evangelist used to say, “Oh, how hard it is to find sinners; I would go any distance to find a sinner who recognizes his need.” Nowhere is the vastness of the need of every human being (whether a moralist or a blatant sinner) more plainly stated than in the second chapter of Ephesians:
Y él os dio vida a vosotros, cuando estabais muertos en vuestros delitos y pecados,en los cuales anduvisteis en otro tiempo, siguiendo la corriente de este mundo, conforme al príncipe de la potestad del aire, el espíritu que ahora opera en los hijos de desobediencia,entre los cuales también todos nosotros vivimos en otro tiempo en los deseos de nuestra carne, haciendo la voluntad de la carne y de los pensamientos, y éramos por naturaleza hijos de ira, lo mismo que los demás.
As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our sinful nature and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath. (vv. 1–3)
All people apart from Christ (the best and the worst of us) are dead in their transgressions and sins. The dead ipso facto cannot help themselves. You can play “Reveille” in the Arlington National Cemetery for a whole year, but you will get no response from the dead. A pastor friend of mine once told me that when he was working in a mortuary (while attending college and seminary), one night he walked into the darkened chapel and saw an eerie sight—an open casket at the front of the chapel with a body lying in it. He crept slowly to the casket, then slowly elevated himself so he could see the tip of the corpse’s nose, then shouted, “Boo!” It did not move an eyelash! Of course not—the guy was dead!
All people apart from Christ (the best and the worst of us) are dead in their transgressions and sins. The dead ipso facto cannot help themselves. You can play “Reveille” in the Arlington National Cemetery for a whole year, but you will get no response from the dead. A pastor friend of mine once told me that when he was working in a mortuary (while attending college and seminary), one night he walked into the darkened chapel and saw an eerie sight—an open casket at the front of the chapel with a body lying in it. He crept slowly to the casket, then slowly elevated himself so he could see the tip of the corpse’s nose, then shouted, “Boo!” It did not move an eyelash! Of course not—the guy was dead!
All people apart from Christ (the best and the worst of us) are dead in their transgressions and sins. The dead ipso facto cannot help themselves. You can play “Reveille” in the Arlington National Cemetery for a whole year, but you will get no response from the dead. A pastor friend of mine once told me that when he was working in a mortuary (while attending college and seminary), one night he walked into the darkened chapel and saw an eerie sight—an open casket at the front of the chapel with a body lying in it. He crept slowly to the casket, then slowly elevated himself so he could see the tip of the corpse’s nose, then shouted, “Boo!” It did not move an eyelash! Of course not—the guy was dead!
The “good” and the “bad” in their spiritual deadness all follow the ways of the world, are captive to the world, the flesh, and the devil, and are objects of God’s wrath.
We Christians, who have the life of Christ within us (cf. ), need to be regularly reminded of the inclination to sin that also lives within us and that will flourish if we fail to tend our souls. I have been a believer for more than forty years, and I know how easy it is to be dulled as to what I really am. We need to learn from Paul:
Palabra fiel y digna de ser recibida por todos: que Cristo Jesús vino al mundo para salvar a los pecadores, de los cuales yo soy el primero.
St. Francis understood this too: “There is nowhere a more wretched and miserable sinner than I.”
“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst” (). St. Francis understood this too: “There is nowhere a more wretched and miserable sinner than I.”
Paul the worst of sinners? St. Francis the most wretched and miserable of sinners? Really? Yes! This is not pious self-effacement. The more these men walked with Christ, the more sensitized they became to the tasteless, colorless, odorless carbon monoxide of inner sin. They knew they could make such holy pronouncements one moment and a few minutes later succumb to the vileness of burning envy or judgmentalism or unrighteous thinking.
Their greatness, their spiritual health, rested upon the knowledge that they were sinners in need of the constant grace of God. This is true of all of us. Do not succumb to the self-righteous delusion that God’s grace has been so effectual in your life that you don’t need it anymore.
Closing Reflections
Jesus’ concluding remarks are also enlightening:
Lucas 7:47
Por lo cual te digo que sus muchos pecados le son perdonados, porque amó mucho; mas aquel a quien se le perdona poco, poco ama.Y a ella le dijo: Tus pecados te son perdonados.Y los que estaban juntamente sentados a la mesa, comenzaron a decir entre sí: ¿Quién es éste, que también perdona pecados?Pero él dijo a la mujer: Tu fe te ha salvado, ve en paz.
Por lo cual te digo que sus muchos pecados le son perdonados, porque amó mucho; mas aquel a quien se le perdona poco, poco ama.Y a ella le dijo: Tus pecados te son perdonados.
The thought is not that her great love for Christ earned her forgiveness. Such a sense is impossible and goes against the entire context. The Jerusalem Bible brings out the meaning of Jesus’ words: “For this reason I tell you that her sins, her many sins, must have been forgiven, or she would not have shown such great love.” Her passionate display of love was a result of Jesus’ forgiveness. We should all be people who love much! We should all show a deep love for Jesus, whether we are shy or extroverted, dispassionate or passionate. Such love is the telltale sign of real faith!
“ ‘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’ ” (vv. 47, 48). The thought is not that her great love for Christ earned her forgiveness. Such a sense is impossible and goes against the entire context. The Jerusalem Bible brings out the meaning of Jesus’ words: “For this reason I tell you that her sins, her many sins, must have been forgiven, or she would not have shown such great love.” Her passionate display of love was a result of Jesus’ forgiveness. We should all be people who love much! We should all show a deep love for Jesus, whether we are shy or extroverted, dispassionate or passionate. Such love is the telltale sign of real faith!
What a scene Luke gives us! The woman is still kneeling before Jesus. Her hair is hanging unattractively, and the tears are still flowing. She loves Jesus. In contrast, Simon’s jaw is set. He has no love for Christ, or for the poor woman. Thus he is graceless.
Like the woman, unlike Simon, forgiven people love God and God’s people. Those who are forgiven much, love much.
Nosotros le amamos a él, porque él nos amó primero. Si alguno dice: Yo amo a Dios, y aborrece a su hermano, es mentiroso. Pues el que no ama a su hermano a quien ha visto, ¿cómo puede amar a Dios a quien no ha visto? Y nosotros tenemos este mandamiento de él: El que ama a Dios, ame también a su hermano.
1 Juan
Do I, do you, really love him? This is the unfailing test of our faith. Is our love for him growing? This is a sure indicator of our spiritual health.
“I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother. ()
Do I, do you, really love him? This is the unfailing test of our faith. Is our love for him growing? This is a sure indicator of our spiritual health.
How beautiful Jesus is. He is pure, utterly sinless, holy, perfect. Yet this sinful woman sensed from him, not condemnation, but forgiveness and acceptance that freed her to pour her love upon him. This is the way Christ receives all sinners who come to him.
How beautiful the woman is, for she has been forgiven. Though her sins were as scarlet, she is as now pure as snow (cf. ). And she feels the freedom and joy of her forgiveness. If you understand the gospel, you understand what has happened inside her. Oh, does she love! She is like the woman who said, “If Christ saves me, he shall never hear the end of it!” And today, though she has been dead 2,000 years, she loves him even more and is still worshiping him.
Do we love him like that?
Didst reach Thine arms out dying,
For my sake sufferedst nails and lance,
Mocked and marred countenance,
Sorrows passing number
Sweat and care and cumber,
Yea and death, and this for me,
And Thou couldest see me sinning:
Then I, why should not I love Thee;
Jesus so much in love with me?
Do we truly love him?
Do we see our weakness? Do we realize how much we need our Savior’s presence and enablement? Do we understand the danger of the carbon monoxide within?
Do you want to come to him for salvation or restoration or strengthening? If so, hear Jesus’ words to you now:
Venid a mí todos los que estáis trabajados y cargados, y yo os haré descansar. Llevad mi yugo sobre vosotros, y aprended de mí, que soy manso y humilde de corazón; y hallaréis descanso para vuestras almas;
Hughes, R. K. (1998). Luke: that you may know the truth (pp. 275–284). Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books.