A Contrite Heart

Luke 7

One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and when he went into the Pharisee’s house he reclined to dine. And a woman in the city who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair, kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner.” Jesus spoke up and said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Teacher,” he replied, “speak.”  “A certain moneylender had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon answered, “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.” And Jesus said to him, “You have judged rightly.” Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.  You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven loves little.”  Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” 

Christ in the House of Simon by Dieric Bouts

In your day, twenty centuries after the event, you may consider this story strange beyond any measure. I will try to explain it to you. But be prepared to dig deep into yourself because what happened this day will require a lot of understanding and maybe even some self-reflection.

First: who am I? You won’t find my name in this story, but nevertheless, I was present at this meal. I was one of “those who were at the table,” invited by Simon, who was an acquaintance of mine. I wouldn’t say that we were friends and frankly, I was a bit surprised when he invited me. I accepted, more out of curiosity about this new rabbi, Jesus, than out of any affection for Simon. As you will no doubt understand, the events of that meal went beyond any expectations that I might have had.

Perhaps Simon invited me to impress me. In all modesty, I would tell you that I was a person of influence in our community. And Simon was ever so attuned to status: in particular, his own status, and his reputation. In short, he was ambitious. Perhaps that ambition led to my invitation.

And maybe I should also attempt to explain why Jesus was invited. You may wonder, since it seems that Jesus often argued with the Pharisees, and also because the Pharisees tried so hard to discredit him.

You can assume that Simon did not invite Jesus out of a personal friendship. He must have been curious about Jesus, as many of us were. You see, Jesus had literally come out of nowhere, drawing crowds of people eager for his teaching and also for his ability to heal all kinds of infirmities. He was popular, especially with the lower classes and the infirm. Frankly, Jesus was an enigma to people of influence, like myself. And Simon clearly wanted to impress me with this opportunity to meet Jesus in person.

You must also understand the importance of table fellowship in our day. Plainly, there was no better way to show hospitality than to share a meal with others. And our culture spelled out certain rituals of behavior, some of which are noted in the passage above: water for the washing of feet, a kiss of greeting, and an anointing. All of those were standards of behavior that were rarely neglected.

And one more bit of background: we lived in a culture of hierarchy. The uppermost of it included the wealthy and the highest of our religious leaders. I was a member of that class, and you should assume that Simon aspired to it. Next below were the respectable plain people of the day, those whom you might term “middle class,” who obeyed our religious laws and stayed out of trouble. And at the bottom were the poor, the infirm, and the outcasts, most of whom we termed as “sinners.” You can guess who in our story belonged to that group. I should add that these boundaries of class were rigidly observed.

But enough background. Let’s talk about the woman. She was the surprise, the unexpected guest, clearly from the lowest class. Though she did not come to eat with us, her arrival, which meant to express nothing more than her love for Jesus, was a violation of our culture. You must remember that our meal was in a room open to the street, allowing bystanders to observe and even comment on the proceedings.

But of course, she did more than comment. She barged in. Oh, and was she really a “sinner?” Yes, those of us at the table who were respectable would certainly agree with that label. She was, quite literally, a woman of the streets.

Then, why didn’t Jesus condemn her for her sin? Why didn’t he stop her? Why did he allow her to even touch him? To become, in a way, intimate with him?

I have, in retrospect, thought a lot about these questions. For the longest time, I had no answer, nor could I explain why Simon withheld his hospitality from Jesus. I will come back to that one, since it is the easier question to answer.

Again, why didn’t Jesus stop her? The answer finally came to me. Jesus received her expressions of love without condemning her because he loved her. Perhaps in your day this simple answer might not seem so strange, to love a sinner. But let me tell you, in my day, it was not only unusual, it was strongly frowned upon. We prized righteousness, and obedience to the law. Sinners were not deserving of our love, nor even of our mercy. Being touched by a sinner, as happened in Simon’s house, was a physically repulsive act. It was nothing less than to be contaminated.

But Jesus actually welcomed it. Why? Because he loved her. No deeper answer than that is needed. He just loved her. And as I came to learn, Jesus loved sinners. Not just her, Jesus loved all sinners. But of course, at the time, I could not see how that could possibly apply to me.

And what prompted the woman to do this? Ah, that is the more interesting question. After all, she truly was a sinner, one who lived outside of our law and of our cultural norms. Why, given her sinful nature, did she interrupt our meal to express her love for Jesus in such an extreme way?

I’m sure that you are aware of the healing power of Jesus. In the Bible of your day, you can’t miss example after example. And of course, you remember how Jesus fed multitudes and how he quieted storms and drove out demons. But Jesus didn’t heal this woman, didn’t feed her, and didn’t drive demons from her body.

But I believe this story, however, is an example of another power of Jesus, one that is not so well understood.

Jesus, I believe, possessed a special power, the power to evoke contrition on the part of sinners. Contrition? Yes, contrition. But what exactly is contrition?

Contrition is a feeling, in the presence of something or someone who is holy, that leads a person to come clean, to face the truth about himself, and even to confess. It’s almost as if you were standing next to God himself, and something, some undefined and intangible sensation, sweeps over you, leading you to humble yourself in the proximity of such holiness.

Perhaps it will help to give you some examples.

When Jesus called Peter to follow him, what was Peter’s initial reaction? It was, surprisingly, a confession:

“Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5)

When Jesus invited himself to dine with Zacchaeus, the sinful tax collector suddenly confessed his sins and made restitution for his past cheating. (Luke 19)

And, when Jesus visited the well outside Sychar in Samaria, the woman he encountered suddenly had a change of heart, admitting her clouded past, and finding redemption in his presence. (John 4)

Why did these people react as they did in the presence of Jesus? I have come to believe it was because Jesus had the power to reach into a receptive heart and evoke contrition. Yes, he did, and in the case of the woman who came to Jesus in our meal, it was the same thing. Because, you see, she truly was a woman of the streets. But inside, she had a heart that was receptive to a love that she’d never before experienced, a love that came directly from Jesus. And as a result, in her contrition, she felt compelled to return that love in the only way that she could.

Then what about Simon? What about the rest of us at the table? As I said, that’s the easiest question to answer.

You see, we didn’t view ourselves as sinners. We were above it, in a higher class than the poor sinful woman. Higher than Peter, who confessed his sinful nature. Higher than Zacchaeus the crooked tax collector, and higher than the promiscuous woman at the well. Above it all, we were respectable. Why would we need to be contrite for anything?

Simon gave us the best clue about our prideful attitude when he withheld the basics of hospitality from Jesus, while offering them to me.

Our hearts, you see, were not receptive to the holiness and love of Jesus, because we didn’t need Jesus. To Simon, and I confess, to me as well, Jesus was nothing more than an interesting person. We had no intention of letting him get close to us. And so, his power of holiness did not find receptive hearts in us.

Well, that was then. My reflections on this meal have gone deeper and deeper over time. It’s almost as if I am reliving it over and over again. And now, I am beginning to see it differently. Perhaps, at the core of my being, I am not so different from the woman, the woman whom I freely rejected as a sinner. Perhaps, I am beginning to see the need for contrition on my part, yes, contrition for nothing less than my pride and my tendency to look down on others.

I don’t know. But I wonder, if we relived that meal at Simon’s house, perhaps I would identify with that woman. Perhaps I would relate to what she did. Perhaps I would even admire what she did. Perhaps I would, finally admit my pride and find my own way of expressing my contrition and my love for Jesus.

What about you? Would the holiness and love of Jesus find a receptive heart in you? Would Jesus find in you a contrite heart?

“The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.”  (Psalm 51)