Luke 7:36-8:3

who is this One who forgives?

Several years ago, I was meeting with a group in a small classroom upstairs above the Church kitchen. Successful, thoughtful, well-respected; in a word, Presbyterians.

On this particular Sunday, a middle-aged man stood up, pushed his chair back and announced, “I don’t like the prayer of confession; the sins don’t relate to me, and if I didn’t commit, why should I ask to be forgiven?” “Besides”, he was building up a head of steam now, “doesn’t confession of sin just create negative self worth anyway? Don’t we have enough guilt.” Then, satisfied with himself, he sat down for a breath.

By now the group was stumbling and stuttering, trying to come up with a response that was truthful, tolerant and Christian. One woman says, “I think whenever we pray, we join with others who are praying, even some who aren’t there.” The man who started the whole conversation remains unconvinced. He says his complaint is against a practice that undermines his self worth. His friend says, “no; it’s a complaint against a practice that takes away your illusions of your self. Every time you confess your sin, you join with the human race on an equal plane with the whole mess of sinners standing in the need of grace.” If you could only pick the sinners you stand with, it might make it comfortable.

Well, the class ended but the conversation kept going. It may still be going. It reminds me of a incident that happened to Robert Coles, the writer and psychiatrist, when he was young.

one of us?

He was a Harvard medical student looking for a place to do some volunteer work. Arriving unannounced at a hospitality house in one of the poorest districts of New York city, he spotted Dorothy Day, the founder, seated at an old card table She was listening to a elderly woman whose face was marbled with deep wrinkles, her eyes blood shot, her hair in tangles and her clothes is disarray. She had been drinking heavily, her voice abruptly going loud, then soft.

Coles walks over to the table and stands next to them – assuming that Dorothy Day will interrupt her conversation and speak with him. After all, he is a medical student here to do good work, volunteering his own time, and from Harvard, too.

All the while, the woman whom Coles came to see listens to the poor woman across from her. Finally, says Coles, “She gets up and comes over to me. She says, ‘are you waiting to talk to one of us? One of us! With those three words she cut through layers and layers of my self-importance, a lifetime of privilege and scraped the bone of my pride.” For Coles, it was the opening in which he experienced the forgiveness and grace that welcomes all to the table as equals before God.

Luke describes another opening that occurs when Jesus is invited to dinner with Simon the Pharisee. Listen:

[LUKE 7.36-8:3 – The Message translation]

She is a woman of the city, says Luke. The town harlot. She drenches his feet with her tears offending everyone in the process. Except Jesus.

What compels her to such a risky and extravagant act of gratitude and love for the forgiveness that she receives? Is it because in the presence of Jesus she is a real person – and not just a commodity to for he pleasure of men? Is it because in the presence of Jesus, she is more than her past history of failure? With him, she has the possibility of a present and even a future that is different than the past? Isn’t this what everyone wants: not to be bound by our past sins but free to live into future?

what would compel you to extravagance and risk?

I wonder what would move me to such risky and extravagant gestures of gratitude to God? Here is a woman holding nothing back, stepping through her fear, caring less about offending others and more about living with gratitude and love in response of the forgiveness of Jesus.

I think forgiveness is amazing because it frees you to live in the future and not merely be chained to the past. But, of course, in order to experience forgiveness there must be something to be forgiven, which puts us back to the original conversation in that upstairs class room of good Presbyterians debating the merits of confession. It also brings us closer to Simon’s dilemma.

Simon is a good man. He serves on the board of the United Way and coaches his daughter’s T-ball team. He’s active in synagoge and a member of the Kiwanis club. He is a good man offended by this woman who is breaking all the rules. He can’t tolerate what he can’t understand: an extravagant display of affection by a sinner. Nor can he tolerate the response of Jesus who not only tolerates her devotion but has apparently forgiven her past.

Simon knows he is good because he has earned it. He has followed all the rules and done what is proper. This is the goodness that is visible for everyone to see. But I don’t think this goodness reaches the depths of our lives where good and evil are not so easily distinguished and our secret sins haunt us, though we would never dare talk about it.

is forgiveness harder for “good people”

I think forgiveness is harder for good people because we don’t have much experience with it. The offenses of good people don’t land us in the streets or in prison, they land us in therapy. Our shame lies hidden and, for the most part, under control. What occurs behind closed doors: a harsh word, a violent outburst, broken vows, is described merely as family conflict, which it is, of course, but if we leave it there something crucial is missing. You might call it the God part, where our lives are fully made whole.

The burden of forgiving and being forgiven remains even here among good people. In fact, forgiveness is the path of life. Nothing corrodes the human spirit more than the belief that I have no need of forgiveness. And nothing is more important than making the long journey toward forgiving others. Forgiveness is often is a long journey toward wholeness that requires honesty, courage and yes, faith in God’s power to transform even the worst circumstances.

Without forgiveness there can be neither love nor gratitude nor happiness. Isn’t this what Jesus is trying to teach us in the parable he offers to Simon? Or is Simon simply offended because he can’t understand the audacity of Jesus forgiving one who is so obviously wrong? Here’s the thing to remember: Simon’s goodness has become the very thing that keeps him from experiencing the transforming power of God’s forgiveness.

But Jesus sees the connection between forgiveness and the capacity to love. The two are bound together.

In Jesus version of life,

love grows from gratitude

gratitude grows from forgiveness

and forgiveness is experienced by those who recognize the need to be forgiven.

why hold back?

At the end of day, I think this woman teaches us that we need not hold anything back – our fear, our shame, our secret sins, our broken hearts, whatever - for Jesus sees us as we are not as we might pretend to be.

In the presence of Jesus and in the company of God’s people:

there is no need to pretend. Here forgiveness is offered; gratitude reigns and love begins.

Imagine what would happen if we all let our hair down and wept with joy because God's love welcomes everyone, everyone.

Why hold back?