“Her sins, which are many are forgiven, for she loved much”
It is hard to imagine a more amazing statement. It dovetails wonderfully with the lesson from Ezekiel which speaks about “one heart” and “a new spirit” within us, “a heart of flesh” and not of stone; in short, a living heart, a heart that is alive to the presence of God. That lesson along side of this gospel story of the unknown and unnamed and utterly silent woman about whom Jesus says, “your sins are forgiven” is astounding. We see something of what that living heart of God in us really means.
What it doesn’t mean is the end of struggle and persecution, at least in this vale of tears. The story in Luke’s Gospel is particularly poignant and real. The woman who came to the house of Pharisee came because she learned that Jesus was there at table. She is described in the most wonderful economy of language by Luke as “a woman of the city, who was a sinner.” She is, in other words, a prostitute. She comes to Jesus.
She says nothing, yet her silence speaks volumes. Her heart is fully on display, fully transparent, a heart of flesh, we must say, though it is Jesus who has to teach us, hard-hearted ones such as we are, just what her actions mean. Her action is, perhaps, even more extreme and extravagant than the action of the one leper who was a Samaritan about whom we heard last Sunday. She brings a precious alabaster flask of ointment; she weeps, wetting his feet with her tears, and wiping them with the hair of her head, kissing them and anointing them with oil. It is an amazing act of devotion and love, an amazing scene of love-in-forgiveness.
Yet, it is the occasion of scandal. Doesn’t Jesus know who she really is? What kind of a religious hot-shot is he if he can’t recognise the garden-variety example of a sinner in this common “woman of the city?”
But even more, it is the occasion for grace, the grace of Christ which catapults us into the mercies of God. “Her sins which are many are forgiven, for she loved much.” Notice that he says, much, not many. “She loved much.” It is one of the most powerful Scripture statements which contribute to the later medieval development of the theology of amor, the theology of love. It is a distinctive feature of the Christian religion; the idea of the God who cares such that He enters into the human condition; and the idea of the corresponding love of God in us and in our relations with one another. It is not too much to say that the Christian religion, par excellence, is the religion of love. But, alas, how often we betray it by the very things that are on display in this gospel passage, the secret doubts and judgments of our hearts. Doesn’t he know “what sort of woman this is who is touching him,” the Pharisee says to himself; “Who is this who forgives sins?” we say, after Jesus tells her, “your sins are forgiven,” still not quite getting the point of who Jesus is and what he means for our lives. Stony hearts in contrast to hearts of flesh.
It is, of course, the constant challenge, namely, to love as we have been loved. What stands in the way are all of our prejudices and complaints; all of our preconceptions and judgments. We put limits on the love of God incarnate in Jesus Christ. We harden our hearts in the face of the one who comes in the living heart of our humanity to turn our hearts of stony self-righteousness into hearts of loving compassion and care, if we will let him.
Such is the lesson of the woman who comes to Jesus and throws herself down at his feet, and wets his feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. She says nothing and yet her action is the stuff of a million sermons and the substance of a myriad of holy lives. She seeks in love the forgiveness of Christ. That is to seek a living heart, a heart of love. May it be so with us.
She has loved much. God wants us to love more, not less. To love much is to love God “with all [our] heart, and with all [our] soul, and with all [our] mind, and with all [our] strength” and to find in that love, the love which embraces the world and one another; in short, to “love [our] neighbour as [ourself].”
“Her sins, which are many are forgiven, for she loved much”
Fr. David Curry
Trinity XV, MP 2010
10:30am