Sermons

Sun, Jun 12, 2016

Already forgiven

Series:Sermons

Sudanese youth are trouble-makers.

Asians are bad drivers.

Aboriginal people are incapable of looking after themselves properly––

they’re all welfare-cheats, drunks, and petrol-sniffers.

Muslims are aggressive and intolerant fundamentalists…

who simply won’t or can’t fit into our society…

and they’re all potential terrorists.

Asylum seekers are illegal queue-jumpers––

or simply greedy economic migrants––

who should be sent back to where they came from.

And all those bleeding-heart lefties who support them should just grow up…

and learn to live in the real world.

 

Despite all of our talk about being a tolerant society––

of valuing a “fair go for all”––

it seems that our tolerance only stretches so far.

Let’s face it…

most of us find it hard to accept people who are different.

We expect other people to behave like us…

to share our values…

to obey our rules…

to follow our standards.

We expect immigrants to speak English…

and to adopt “Australian” customs and values––

which are, usually, defined only in terms of the customs and values of a particular subset…

or subculture.

But doesn’t that also happen in the church?

There are many who are wont to claim that only people who believe what I do…

who live like I do…

who worship like I do

are “true followers of Jesus”.

Most of us expect people to share our values, beliefs, and customs…

and, when they don’t,…

we tend to judge them and their worth.

We label them:

foreigner…

‘bogan’…

or sinner.

 

That would have been the experience of the woman in our story from Luke’s Gospel.

We are told very little about her.

In fact, we’re told next to nothing––

not her name nor what she looked like.

All that we are told is that she is “a sinner”––

known and labelled as such by everyone.

And, within that culture, “sinner” was a label––

one attributed by the majority to those who didn’t fit.

It was a label given to those who didn’t follow what those with power defined as cultural norms.

It was a label that was dressed up in religious language.

And, in that culture, it really meant only one thing for a woman––

that she was a prostitute.

That means that she was impure, unclean, perverse––

in the opinion of normal, decent, respectable, religious people…

people like Simon, the Pharisee.

And yet, a woman wouldn’t have chosen to be a prostitute––

not freely.

Because, back then, it was largely slaves who worked as prostitutes.

So, perhaps like many, she had been born as a slave…

and been trained from an early age.

Or, perhaps, she had been sold into slavery when she was young…

because her parents were poor and couldn’t afford to keep her.

But it wasn’t something that she would have chosen to do.

As a slave, she didn’t have any choices.

She did what she was told, or else.

Or, perhaps, by this time, she was no longer a slave––

maybe she had been given her freedom––

but that didn’t really change anything.

She still wouldn’t have had any option but to continue her profession––

whether she wanted to or not.

After all, what choice would she have had––

without a husband…

a family…

relatives…

without anyone to support her?

And it would have been the only skill or trade that she knew––

it was better that than starving.

Used…

devalued…

scorned––

it would not have been much of a life.

And yet, that was all that she knew.

It defined who she was.

It shaped her, her actions, and her behaviour.

 

In crafting his story, the author doesn’t tell us why she went to see Jesus that night.

Was it remorse or regret?

Was it because she felt trapped?

Or was she simply looking for some love and acceptance?

We don’t know.

The author doesn’t tell us…

and she doesn’t say anything.

And her actions are open to interpretation and misinterpretation.

You see, in that culture, respectable women didn’t let their hair down in public––

only prostitutes did that.

Letting her hair down in public was a promiscuous act—

tantamount to stripping.

Yes, she keeps weeping…

bathing his feet with her tears…

but she also keeps rubbing his feet with scented oil…

and she also keeps kissing his feet…

fondling his feet––

doing the sort of thing that a good prostitute would do for her client:

suggestive…

sensual…

even erotic.

She continues to behave like a prostitute.

She relates to Jesus the only way that she knows how.

 

And how does Jesus respond?

 

Not as Simon expected.

Not as the other guests expected.

Not as any normal, decent, respectable, religious person would––

no word of judgment or condemnation;

no rebuke or correction;

no lecture about giving up her immoral ways…

finding a decent job…

settling down…

making something of her life.

Instead, Jesus declares…

“Your sins have been forgiven”.

Her sins have been forgiven.

They already have.

But when?

There’s no suggestion in the story that Jesus had ever met her before.

It’s not like she had been to see him on some previous occasion…

and asked for forgiveness.

And yet, he declares, “Your sins have been forgiven”.

It’s as if he’s saying, “don’t you realise…

God already has forgiven you––

before you realised you needed forgiveness…

before you even asked for it.

As far as God is concerned…

you have been forgiven.

You always have been.

You always are.

You always will be”.

 

But that’s not all.

At the very end of the exchange, Jesus also says to her:

“Your faith has saved you; go in peace”.

Your faith, or your trust, has saved you.

However, the author of Luke’s Gospel often uses that verb “save” to mean “heal”.

So, here, Jesus is declaring that she is healed…

whole…

restored.

And that’s important in a first century context…

because illness, like sin, was about perceived abnormalities.

It was about being impure.

It involved a loss of value and purpose.

It meant being marginalised and excluded from the community.

Healing was about being accepted back into the community––

treated as meaningful…

worthwhile…

whole.

Not only does this woman need to see herself as accepted…

worthwhile…

and whole––

but the rest of the community needs to acknowledge that as well.

That’s why the author has Jesus use the language of healing.

He’s declaring publicly that she belongs…

that she’s welcome in the community of God’s people.

And yet, we’re not told that her circumstances changed after all of this.

There’s nothing to suggest that she gave up her profession…

and Jesus certainly didn’t tell her to do so.

Indeed, the text seems to infer that she remained a prostitute.

After all, what could she do?

Now that may come as a bit of a surprise to us––

or even a shock––

because it’s not what we’d expect, is it?

 

So, perhaps this story is trying to show us…

just how free and abundant God’s forgiveness is:

that God forgives us before we ever ask for it;

that God forgives us even when we don’t ask for it;

that God forgives us without us ever changing…

or even promising to change.

God simply forgives;

and welcomes us with open arms.

 

It’s a shame, isn’t it, that we humans aren’t so forgiving! 

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