June 17, 2007 - Pentecost 3, Year C
Saint James Episcopal Church, Saint James, NY

It was one of those elaborate meals, the ones where your host
is trying to impress everybody
with how much time and money
has gone into the dinner party,
table decked out with fine linens, the finest dishes, a continuous flow of good wine.
All in all, it had gone well,
the appropriate mix of
the elite of the town,
some businessmen
and a celebrity traveling through,
Jesus, the one who was supposed to be
a famous prophet and teacher.
There was a constant murmur of conversation, with only the occasional pause
as some new food was brought out
and the guests temporarily devoted themselves to eating.
The host began to relax, confident
that he
had confirmed his place
as the best host
in town.

And then suddenly there was a commotion by the door.
A woman had pushed her way in,
a woman
that he would not in a million years have considered
inviting to dinner.
Everyone knew her; she had a reputation, well earned,
but not the sort of reputation
you would want to have.
She pushed her way past the servants — they seemed to be frozen on their spots, as were the guests, shocked into immobility by the sheer impudence of this woman
entering this house
on this night.

And the woman went straight to Jesus, and began to wash his feet,
washing them
with the tears pouring from her eyes,
wiping them hurriedly away
with her hair,
kissing them, rubbing in sweet scented lotion.

And as the guests looked on in horror,
the host found himself thinking,
"What sort of prophet is he, letting a woman like that
do that!"

And suddenly, into the silence, Jesus spoke.
"Simon," that was the host's name, "Simon,
I have something to say to you."
"Ye-e-e-esss?"
And Jesus began to tell a story.
"Imagine Matthew over here" — and he gestured to a rotund and particularly well dressed man — "imagine Matthew
had two clients who owed him money.
One owed him
five hundred denarii — that's like ??? —
and the other fifty.
Neither of them could pay.
So he canceled their debts. Which one would love him more?"

Everyone sniggered. They knew Matthew, of all people,
was unlikely
to waive anyone's debt. He was far more likely to ratchet up the interest
and then have them thrown
in prison. Matthew was not exactly someone who inspired love
from his debtors.

"Well, if Matthew here
were to cancel anyone's debt" — yeah right —
"I guess the one who owed the most
would be the most grateful."

"So, you invited me to dinner, and didn't even offer me a place to wash
after my journey. You barely noticed me when I came in. You told everyone
that I was your honored guest,
but frankly,
I've felt for most of the meal
that I might as well have not been here. But this woman, she came in
and washed my feet. She wiped them dry. She greeted me with a kiss, she anointed me with oil.
You treated me
as if I didn't matter; she treated me
as if I were the most important person in the world."

And he turned to the woman
and said
"Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace."

Of course

Jesus had been pretty rude, criticizing his host
in front of his guests.
But you see,
Simon had thought
he could buy his way
into Jesus' good graces.
A sought after invitation, a fancy meal,
that would earn him
the prophet's
blessing.

Full of pride at the excellence of his own hospitality
had neglected to offer even the most basic courtesy
to his traveling guest.

An illegal immigrant
crashing the governor's
party.
She didn't belong.

But not did Jesus. He was the odd one out, Jesus, at this meal. Guest of honor, supposedly, but

There's a certain theme in our readings for the New Testament and the Gospel today.

Not so long ago, I read an article
called "The Gospel plus?"
What the writer was talking about
was our tendency
to say , in theory,
that what matters is the gospel.
We are saved through Christ. Finit.
But what we do in practice
is something different.
What we do in practice
is say, or at least act as if
what matters is
the gospel plus something else.

©Raewynne J.Whiteley, 2007