In Luke 7:36-50, Jesus doesn’t just invite an unnamed woman to experience transformation. There is also Simon, who is pious, begrudging about anyone who is not, keen to keep this woman and all her pain at a distance. But Simon is also the one who has, curiously, invited Jesus into his home. I can relate to Simon the Pharisee, just as I can relate to this unnamed woman.
During the course of the meal, Simon berates this intrusive woman for her lifestyle and questions Jesus’ judgment for engaging her at all. Simon’s story illustrates that it’s easier to focus on someone else’s brokenness. His actions underscore a false piety intended to conceal his own brokenness. If I am to read this story honestly, I have to wrestle with all of the ways in which I am both this sinful woman—and this (falsely) righteous man.
Loving Our Neighbor
Certainly, Simon has invited Jesus into his home, but has he invited Jesus into the home of his heart? Have I? This is a challenge for me and for us all, but the cost of keeping Jesus at a distance is that intimacy is lost. This reality is particularly striking when we consider that the Gospel writer contextualizes this truth around intimate images—homes and meals. Physically, Simon keeps Jesus at a distance, doesn’t touch him, doesn’t bathe his feet. On a deeper level, Simon keeps Jesus at a distance by pointing out the flaws of this woman. Is Simon wrong in pointing out that this woman is a sinner? Yes, because his intention is to justify his own righteousness in light of her unrighteousness. Loving our neighbor means we don’t use her to justify our own goodness. Loving our neighbor means we don’t berate him for being where he actually is on his journey with God. In the end, Simon’s inability to love this woman reveals that he was probably unable to love himself, too. The uncharitable are, even if very secretly, people who are probably unable to love themselves. Dorothy Day said that I only love God as much as the person I love least. Sometimes we discover the person we love least is in fact, ourselves.
Embracing Grace
I can empathize with Simon when I realize that I share his pain. I am also a “righteous person” bragging about how I am not like this woman. But when I resist looking at my own woundedness, I resist grace. When I resist the One who can heal my wounds, I resist the ones, too—the people Jesus has given who can help. I need this sinful woman and all her flamboyant love to give me the courage to look into Jesus’ loving eyes. Otherwise, I resist my wounds, and that will not make me holy, or whole.
Resisting my wounds locks me in a place of denial, ingratitude, anger, and pain. The result of this is that my love will be small because I will not allow God access to the places that matter most. Simon looks on, from a distance, while someone else comes alive. Her love is great, his, very small. Fear always keeps love at a distance. False piety keeps love at a distance. We cannot love the One we’re afraid of, or distant from, or whose approval we’re trying to win by being something other than who we are—sinners in the embrace of God. In the story, God doesn’t berate Simon or the woman for being where they are on the journey. God doesn’t assign blame for our brokenness because he has already placed the blame on Jesus at the cross.
I must remember that God loves the Simon inside of me, too. I do well to remember that Jesus came to Simon’s house that day, which means that God is dealing with Simon, too. Our whole lives are a process of letting God enter the broken houses in which we find ourselves and making us whole. I can find comfort in knowing that God is quietly dealing with the Simon inside of me, too.
This article is part three of a three-part series: