SHE LOVED
MUCH
Among the men who were present at the dinner
at Simon the Leper’s in Bethany there was no one except Jesus who understood the
loving service of the woman. (Matt. 26:6) But all, struck with wonder, were
silent. They did not understand, but they respected obscurely the gravity of
the mysterious ceremony. All except two, who wished to interpret the woman's
action as an offense to the guest. These two were the Pharisee and Judas
Iscariot. The first said nothing, but his expression spoke more clearly than
words. The second, the Traitor, presuming on his familiarity with the Master,
ventured to speak.
Simon thought to himself, "This man, if he were a prophet, would
have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth Him, for she is a
sinner." (Luke 7:39) The old hypocrite had for the paid woman the
scorn of those who have had much to do with them, or of those who have never
known them at all. Like his brothers he belonged to the endless cemetery of
white sepulchers, which within are full of foulness. It is enough for such men
to avoid physical contact with what they think is impure, even if their souls
are sinks of iniquity. Their morals are systems of cleansings and washings;
they would leave a wounded man to die, abandoned on the road, for fear of
staining themselves with blood; they would let a poor man suffer hunger to
avoid touching money on the Sabbath day: like all men they commit thefts,
adulteries, and murders, but they wash their hands so many times a day that
they imagine them as clean as those of babes.
He had read the Law, and
there were still ringing in his ears the coursings and loathing’s of Old Israel
against prostitutes. "There shall
be no whore of the daughters of Israel. . . . Thou shalt not bring the hire of
a whore, or the price of a dog, into the house of the Lord thy God for any vow:
for even both these are abomination to the Lord thy God." (Deut.
23:17-18) And Simon, the wise merchant and citizen, remembered with equal
satisfaction the admonition of the author of the Proverbs: "For a whore is a deep ditch; and a strange woman is a narrow pit.
. . . For by means of a whorish woman a man is brought to a piece of
bread." (Prov. 23:7; Prov. 6:26) The old Jew would perhaps not have
felt so bitterly about prostitutes, if they cost nothing! But they are capable,
those shameless women, of eating up an inheritance. The old owner could not be
reconciled to one of those dangerous women in his house, to the fact that she
had touched his guest. He knew that the prostitute Rehab had made victory
possible for Joshua and that she was the only one to escape from the massacre
of Jericho, but he remembered that the invincible Samson, terror of the
Philistines, had been betrayed by a worthless woman. The Pharisee could not
understand how a man acclaimed by the people as a prophet should not have
understood what sort of woman had come to bestow on Him this shameful honor;
but Jesus had read in the heart of the sinning woman and in the heart of Simon,
and answered with the parable of the two debtors. "There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed
five hundred pence and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he
frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?
Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most. And he
said unto him, Thou halt rightly judged." (Luke 7:41-43)
And he turned to the woman,
and said unto Simon: "Seest thou this
woman? I entered into thine house, thou gayest me no water for my feet: but she
hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.
"Thou gayest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not
ceased to kiss my feet. "My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this
woman bath anointed my feet with ointment. "Wherefore I say unto thee, Her
sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much; but to whom little is
forgiven, the same loveth little. "And he said unto her, Thy sins are
forgiven. . . . Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace." (Luke 7:44-50
The parable and the comment
of Jesus show how great, even today, is the lack of understanding of this
episode. Everyone or nearly everyone remembers only those words: "Her sins are forgiven, for she loved
much." An attentive reading of the text shows that this ordinary
interpretation is the opposite of the truth. It is thought that Jesus forgave
her sins because she had loved many men, or because she had shown her love for
Him with her perfume and her kisses. The parable of the two debtors makes it
clear that the meaning of Jesus' words, badly quoted and even more completely
misunderstood, is entirely the contrary. The woman had sinned greatly and
because of her repentance she was wholly pardoned; and because her pardon was
great she greatly loved Him who had saved her, who had forgiven her; the nard
and her tears and her kisses were the expression of that grateful love. If
before going into the house that evening the sinning woman had not already
become transformed by virtue of her pardon, she would not have obtained from
Jesus forgiveness for her past life spent in evil, not by using all the
perfumes of India and Egypt nor by all the kisses of her lips, nor by all the
tears of her eyes. Christ's forgiveness was not the reward for those acts of
homage; those acts were her thank-offerings for her forgiveness already
received; and they were great because her forgiveness was great, as her forgiveness
had been great because great had been her sin.
Jesus would not have repelled the sinning
woman even if she had still been a sinner, but if He had not been sure of her
conversion He would not perhaps have accepted those tokens of love; from now on
even the most rigorous Pharisaical precepts permitted Him to speak with her: "Thy faith hath saved thee; go in
peace."
Simon could think of no answer; but from the
side of the disciples a rough, angry voice was raised, well known to Jesus. It
was the voice of Judas: "Why was
this waste of the ointment made, why was not this ointment sold for three
hundred pence and given to the poor?" (Mark 14:4) And the other
disciples, so the Evangelists say, approved the words of Judas, and murmured
against the woman. Judas was the man who held the purse; the basest of them all
had chosen the basest element, —money.
Money was pleasing to Judas, pleasing in
itself and pleasing in its possibility of power. He spoke of the poor, but he
did not think of the poor, to whom Jesus had distributed bread in the
country-solitudes, as well as to his own companions, too poor as yet to conquer
Jerusalem and to found the empire of the Messiah where Judas hoped to be one of
the masters. And be was envious as well as grasping; envious as all misers are.
That silent anointing which was the consecration of the King and the Messiah,
those honors offered by a beautiful woman to his Leader, made him suffer; the
everlasting jealousy of man against man, when a woman is concerned, was mingled
with the disappointment
of his cupidity.
But Jesus answered the words of Judas as He answered the
silence of Simon. He did not affront those who had affronted Him, but he
defended the woman at His feet. And Jesus said, "Let her alone; why trouble ye her? she hath wrought a good work
on me. For ye have the poor with you always, and whensoever ye will ye may do
them good: but me ye have not always. She hath done what she could: she is come
aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this
gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath
done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her." (Mark 14:6-9)
The inexpressible sadness of this prophecy
escaped perhaps those who sat about Him. They could not be persuaded that
Jesus, in order to overcome, should be overcome: that in order to triumph
eternally He must die. But Jesus felt the day drawing near, "But me ye have not always, she is come
to anoint my body to the burying." (Matt. 26:11-12) The woman listened
in terror to this confirmation of her premonition and another burst of tears
rained down from her eyes. Then with her face hidden in her loosened hair, she
went away as silently as she had come.
The disciples were silent, not convinced,
but embarrassed. To hide his embarrassment Simon filled the guest's cup with
better wine, but in the yellow light of the lamps the silent table seemed a
banquet of ghosts among whom had passed the shadow of death.
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