Canter Bridge

While at table in the home of a certain Simon—one must not fall prey to the pious instinct to hold it against this host that he is a Pharisee—Jesus’ conviviality with the assembled men is interrupted when a ‘sinnner woman’ falls at his feet. She anoints them with a bottle made for the job but adds the improvisation of bathing them with her tears. Her hair serves her for a towel.

There is disapproval round about, not only on the lips of those who think Jesus ought to have known what sort of woman this one is and prevented her making such a scene. Simon himself allows the reader to discern a certain distance from matters of passion, need, and brokenness. In answer to Jesus’ little parable about which of two debtors who are forgiven what they owe is likely to love most, he can hardly fail to answer correctly. Clearly, the one who has been forgiven more. Yet with tell-tale precision, Luke has him begin his response with the words ‘I suppose …’

Clearly, he answers his guest’s inconvenient moralizing under duress. He is not accustomed, perhaps, to being the one to whom such questions of deeper reality are asked.

The entire scene condemns him. Yet the only individual in the room who has been identified as a ‘sinner’ leaves with her faults forgiven. If Jesus’ wish for her is fulfilled, her tears will be replaced with peace.

Jesus speaks about this woman with unequivocal realism, both her past and her future:

Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.

As far as Simon is aware, he has not done much that requires forgiving. Hence, he has only a little love. Truth be told, he is as likely as not to live out his days supposing. Would that he could become a forgiven prostitute, a life and status much to be preferred.