“Do you see this woman” was the question Jesus asked of Simon while He was visiting with him, and many of the other disciples were also present. Christ went on to extol her virtues--yes, virtues--while the men around were noticing her extravagance and posture in her worship of the Messiah.
“...for she loved much” Jesus went on to say, as He made known that her sins--which were many--had been forgiven. Talk about calling a spade a spade. Jesus didn’t sugarcoat that this woman was a sinner--and not just one of the ones who only sin a little like so many of us. Hardly. As much as He made known her sacrifice, He also made the others aware of the fact that she had often fallen short of the glory of God.
Hmn. Fallen short. Maybe that explains her place in this story. She was on her hands, her knees. She used her hair to wipe Jesus’ feet; her tears to wash them. She unceasingly kissed His tired feet. Did she know the path they had trod--as well as the road that was before Him? And His head, that sacred head that was about to be bruised? Her compassion for Christ, her love for Him, made her the humblest of servants as she gave her very best--physically and financially--to the One before her.
Did she ask for this blessing from Jesus: did she beg for His forgiveness? No. She knew she wasn’t worthy. She knew she had messed up. The only thing she could do was try to comfort Him as His greatest trial was soon to be faced. Even though she had seen Him do miracles in others, she didn’t count herself as one He would possibly save. Nope. Not her. But what she did know was that she had one opportunity to try to at least say “Thanks” for the things He had done for others. She had met the Christ and her life would never be the same.
“She loved much.” I wonder what she loved, this mystery woman. People? Possessions? Power? In those days, women didn’t have much status. We know her profession was that of a prostitute, one where--for a little while--she was the one in control of the man. What led her to this employment opportunity? I could speculate but truthfully, only God knows. What I do feel is correct is that once she met Jesus, her life was never the same. Whatever she loved before paled in comparison as she met the Lover of her soul. And then to hear those words, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace” must have startled the dickens out of her! Her faith? Where is the evidence of that? Oh surely, she knew she was lost but this faith that had just saved her: when did it come into place??
I’m stuck here, friends, so I do what I often do: ask the hubs for help. His response? It wasn’t a given that his family would attend church each week but it was a fairly common experience. However, he didn’t know that this day--this fairly routine day-- would be the one he met the Saviour. Steve was just going to church that day. This woman was just going to a party. Neither knew their lives were about to be changed by the One Who has the power to forgive sins.
Okay, let’s backtrack a moment and tie this all up, shall we? Here was this woman who came to Simon’s party with an alabaster box filled with costly ointment. We don’t know what her intentions were on the way to the place, but once she got there, once she saw the Christ, all she could do was cry. Were her tears those of joy at meeting the One she’d heard of? Were they of shame at her sinful life--and did they fall more fervently once He told the partygoers “her sins were many” and her embarrassment caused them to flow even more heavily? Lastly, once she heard those words--those blessed words--”your faith has saved you” were her tears ones of unrestrained relief that a faith she didn’t even know she possessed had been accounted to her as righteousness?
“Do you see this woman?” Yeah, I do, in a whole different light than when these words were first read. I see in her...me. One who was unclean, had no hope, and whom the world had given up on. I see in her the unspoken dream of being found worthy by a Man who would see me--me!--and not some version that suited him at certain stage of his world. I see in this woman me, one who loved deeply (too much some would say), and yet somehow, somehow through all of my angst, through all of my tears, and through the hope that was hidden because I never thought it would see the light of day, I see a woman who was told by her Redeemer that she has been forgiven.
“Go in peace” were the last words Jesus spoke to her in this passage. How wonderful that she could now do that. How marvelous that I can too!
