Sermon: "Grace by Association," Season after Epiphany, February 23, 2025

Luke’s Gospel: Jesus and the Outsiders, Outcasts, and Outlaws

Scripture: Luke 7:36-50

Preacher: Rev. Ryan Slifka

Title: “Grace by Association,”

Today’s scripture opens on the house of Simon, a Pharisee. He’s invited Jesus into his home for dinner. If you’re familiar with the New Testament at all this scene might seem bizarre. Because the Pharisees are some of Jesus’ chief rivals. But here we have Jesus, guest of honour, at the house of a Pharisee. If anything it’s an indicator that not all Pharisees are opposed to Jesus in the gospels. In fact, some were sympathetic to Jesus.

The sympathy for Jesus here, however, only goes so far.

A “woman from the city” we’re told. A woman from the city finds her way into this Pharisees’ house. She’d heard this wandering healer and rabbi was breaking bread and sipping wine at Simon’s. She’d come all the way from the city. Just to see Jesus.

Now, it’s a bit of a strange scene to us. Here Jesus is reclining at his table, and this woman just breaks into tears. And her tears are just soaking his feet. And she uses the tears like some kind of podiatric cleanser. Scrubbing his feet clean, and drying them off with her tears. Then she pops open this super-expensive jar made of alabaster, filled with this ultra-expensive ointment. And she applies it once Jesus’ feet are dry.

Now, I don’t know about you, but this all gives me the willies. I don’t want some stranger touching my feet let along crying all over them. But the “ick factor” isn’t what bugs Simon. After all, in good ol’ ancient Middle Eastern hospitality you wash the feet of your guests. And if you’re walking all day, some fancy ointment would be pretty soothing.[1]

No, where Simon’s sympathy runs out is found in that descriptive word tucked into verse 37. And that word is “sinner.” He doesn’t say this aloud—after all, that would be rude—but he says it to himself. “If this man were a prophet,” he says. “If this Jesus were truly a prophet, a messenger from the Lord. Then he’d know what kind of woman is touching him. A sinner.”

Now, there’s been a lot of scholarly speculation down the years as to who or what this woman is. A lot of folks have said the kind of “sinner” she is, is a prostitute, or that it’s Mary Magdalene. But we’re never actually told her name or what kind of sins she’s committed. Just that she’s a “sinner.”[2] Meaning she is a clear violator of the law of Moses. Meaning she is ritually and spiritually “unclean.” Meaning that Jesus, in being touched by her and associating with her, he, too, is making himself unclean, just like she is.

What bothers Simon here isn’t what this woman does with the feet and the tears and the ointment, but who this woman is. CLEARLY Jesus must not be a prophet because he’d not only know she was a sinner, he wouldn’t let himself be touched by a sinner. Because to come into contact with a morally and spiritually compromised person… that makes you morally and spiritually compromised.

Now, we might think that this is a bit crazy. After all, I’ve said before we are so shaped by hundreds of years of Christianity. But it’s not that crazy.

A couple images come to mind from the current Federal political campaign trail. To be clear, I’m not getting politically partisan. I’m not even going to show them on the screen because they aren’t the point.

One image that made its way over social media was a photo of Liberal leadership candidate Mark Carney with Gislaine Maxwell at some function of global bigwigs. Maxwell, as you may know has been sentenced for sex trafficking and other crimes as an accomplice of the late Jeffrey Epstein.

The other image is Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre meeting with protesters from the 2022 trucker convoy. Smiling, shaking hands.

No matter what your politics may be—you may hate Carney, or hate Poilievre. Even rightly so! But I want to make a point. The reason for circulating these images is this: to associate political rivals with morally compromised individuals. And to damage their credibility by association.

Why? Because even if we might not think like first century residents of Roman Palestine who believe in spiritual uncleanliness, we are still human beings. We still believe that in associating with problematic personalities, we too, may become problematic. Unclean, if you will.

For us it might be political rivals. It might be religious rivals. For United Church people we tend to spend a heck of a lot of time making sure we aren’t associated with “those Christians.” Often with good reasons. Or more the more conventionally unclean: sinners, like the woman in our text. Prostitutes. The drug addicted. Criminals. The down and out. Again, often for good reason.

Unlike Simon, we may not believe that we can literally “catch” spiritual uncleanliness. But, like Simon, we have a powerful human instinct. One favoring guilt by association.

Jesus, however, doesn’t seem to have the same problem as we do.

You might remember in Luke’s gospel. Indeed, all four gospels, that one of the great accusations against Jesus is that he eats and drinks, he consorts with “tax collectors and sinners.”[3] Prostitutes, enemy Roman soldiers, corrupt government officials. Radical revolutionaries and extreme reactionaries. If this guy is a holy man, a good and righteous prophet, you’d think he’d at least avoid the worst offenders. But he doesn’t. Why?

Remember that Simon doesn’t speak any of his criticisms of Jesus aloud. But somehow Jesus knows everything that’s been cycling through Simon’s head. And in response to Simon’s judgment, and his doubt, Jesus tells him a pretty straightforward parable.

Once upon a time a rich guy loans money to two poor guys. One borrows a lot: 500 denarii, worth a year and a half’s wages. The other borrows a little: 50 denarii, which is only about two month’s wages.

Now, this creditor’s only rich, he’s apparently rather generous. Neither of these two, the guy who borrows a lot, nor the guy who borrows a little, can actually pay up, though. So he cancels both their debts. Wipes the whole slate clean for each.

“Which of these two debtors, Simon,” asks Jesus. “Which of these two do you think ended up loving the creditor more? The one who dug himself into a little financial hole? Or the one who dug himself into a giant fiduciary pit?”

The answer, of course, is obvious. To you, to me. To Simon the Pharisee. Obviously the one who owed a lot of money’s gonna love the guy who forgave his debt more than the guy who only borrowed a little.

It’s obvious. But what does this little parable have to do with Simon? Or this sinner?

“Look,” Jesus says. “I came in here and you offered me no water to clean my feet, and here she is giving my feet a bath with her tears. You didn’t kiss me on the cheek, either,” says Jesus, “but her kisses are landing on my feet over and over again.” The kiss being another act of hospitality—which we non-Mediterranean types don’t really get at all. Finally: “you—a well respected, well-to-do Pharisee didn’t anoint my head with oil, whereas this poor, marginal wicked woman, broke the bank to anoint my feet.”

“This woman clearly loves me,” Jesus says. “This is all a demonstration of that love. Why do you think that she loves me so much? Because when you’re somebody like her who’s broken, beaten down by the world. Somebody like her who’s messed up, screwed up, eaten up by shame. When your record of sins is so deep in the red that it’s all anybody sees when they see you. Well, finding forgiveness for your sins is like the guy in the parable who had a year and a half’s wages worth of debt forgiven. It’s like winning the lottery without even buying a ticket![4]

This woman loves me so much, Jesus says, because that’s exactly what I’ve given her: she’s wiping my feet clean, because I’ve wiped her slate clean. Like the creditor in the parable, I’ve pronounced her many sins forgiven. It may not seem like a big deal for those who don’t think they have many sins worth forgiving (hint hint). But this for somebody like her this whole display with the tears and the hair is one… big… ‘thank you.’”

Her tears… are tears of joy. Tears of joy. This woman, this sinner, has come to Jesus, has tracked him down, because she loves him. And she loves him because she has many, many, many sins, which Jesus has forgiven. Rather than undermining his authority as a prophet, as one who speaks for God, this woman’s closeness to Jesus actually proves he’s even much more than one who speaks for God, because God is the only one who can forgive sins. Again—hint hint.

So while Simon thinks this sinner’s proximity to Jesus makes Jesus unclean, it’s actually the opposite: Rather than catching what she has: sin, shame, moral pollution: he gives her what he’s got: Forgiveness. Love. Healing. Wholeness and holiness. A cause for joy, and celebration. And the thing is that Simon, too, would have known this, and experienced this. If he only he thought he had much worth forgiving.

And really, this is a sneak preview of what Jesus will do even later on the cross. Hung between two criminals, the Creator of the universe associates with the worst humanity has to offer. And rather than condemning them, dies for them. Absorbing the debt of sin in his own body, and gifting them with forgiveness, peace, holiness. And everlasting life.

Rather than avoiding sinners and condemning them, Jesus demonstrates his divine authority by associating sinners and forgiving them. It’s grace by association. Grace by association.

This, by the way, is the most beautiful thing about Christian spirituality. About the Jesus way.

This is good news for those of us who, like the woman with the jar, are crushed by shame, those of us condemned for who we are or what we’ve done. Whether we deserved it or not.

It’s beautiful because it means that in Jesus Christ God has not only refused to turn away from you, but has turned to you with eyes filled with nothing but grace. No wonder this woman pours out all she’s got in service of Jesus. She gets it. In Jesus Christ God has associated himself permanently with your flawed, fallen human nature, and on the cross has absorbed every one of your moral and spiritual debts down to the last dollar. Your account is cleared, in the Lord’s eyes you are not unclean… but holy.

It’s beautiful because there is nothing you or I could do to cut us off from the love at the heart of the universe. The Son of Man to seek out and save the lost. There’s nothing you or I can do to change who we truly are as children of the living God. There’s nothing that you or I could do to divert the path of our ultimate destiny in Christ. If that’s not beautiful. I don’t know what else is.

It’s the most beautiful thing about the Jesus way.

But it also may be the most challenging. Because it means that if this is the way God sees us… it’s the way God sees our neighbours. Even our enemies.

Who’s yours? Who out there won’t you touch with a ten-foot pole? Imagine them, contrite, weeping, washing the feet of Jesus. Even if they aren’t! And you’ll know what I mean. It’s beautiful, but it’s challenging.

Because with Jesus, we no longer, in the words of the Apostle Paul, see anyone from “a human point for view.”[5]

We can no longer see each other the same way because Jesus radically reorients our hearts and minds.

We can no longer see the same way because Jesus allows us to see beyond the surface, beyond the labels and judgments, and to not only see ourselves, but to see each person as one for whom he died. Friend and enemy alike.

We can no longer see each other the same way, because on the cross our Lord has refused to see us as anything but forgiven, holy, and beloved. And it’s a challenge because Jesus empowers us to do the same. To leave guilt by association behind, embracing grace by association in its place. Loving and serving Jesus by loving and serving those who Jesus loves.

It's step out of our comfort zones, I know. To be agents of reconciliation and healing in a world that is often divided by fear and prejudice. But, as Jesus’ parable says, one who is forgiven much will love much. And you can. You will. Because you are.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. AMEN.

[1] “Bathing the feet was a common sign of hospitality for guests (see vv.44, Gen. 18:4, Jn 13:5, 1 Tim. 5:10), but anointing his feet unusual.” David L. Teide, “Luke,” in The Harper Collins’ Study Bible, Rev. & Updated Edition, Gen. Ed. Harold. W. Attridge (San Franciso: HarperOne, 2006), 1777.

[2] See Leviticus 5:1-5.

[3] See Matthew 9:10-17, Mark 2:15-22, Luke 5:29-39.

[4] “It is evident, says Jesus, that the woman must have already received forgiveness, for it would be impossible to assign any other reason for such great love.” Frederick W. Danker, Jesus and the New Age: A Commentary on St. Luke’s Gospel, rev. ed (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1988), 171.

[5] “From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way.” 1 Corinthians 5:15.