Alabaster
Advent 2025, Day 18
Luke 7:36-49
The man invites Jesus in to dine with him. Not because he loves Jesus. Not because he wants to honor him. Our man Simon, an upright, righteous leader in his community, has something to prove. Could be he wants to impress his friends. Or maybe, like so many of the Pharisees, he wants to question Jesus, trap him in his words. Then again, Simon could be genuinely curious about who Jesus is. Maybe he even tells himself his mind is open to hear what Jesus has to say.
Whatever the case, he does not respect Jesus enough to offer the traditional kiss of greeting. He does not extend the hospitality of water to wash his guest’s feet. Is he embarrassed to do this in front of others? Is he deliberately slighting Jesus? He invites Jesus in, but he holds back. He offers food and, we must suppose, conversation, but not friendship. Not acceptance. Simon is either convinced already of his own rightness or too afraid of rejection by his peers. He will give the appearance of considering Jesus, maybe even welcoming Jesus, but he will not open his heart.
Contrast this man with the woman who comes into this gathering. Simon: proud, proper, an accepted leader, a learned man others look up to, a man of means, a man who has access to pretty much everything. Powerful. The woman: scorned, outcast, a failure with a reputation. Powerless. Ashamed. The only name she knows is sinner.
What does it take for her to walk into that house of judgment—uninvited, no less? How must she tremble as she dares to go to Jesus and kneel before him in the presence of such mocking dismissal?
Yet here she is, weeping, and she can touch Jesus because she knows she must. Unlike the host, she knows who Jesus really is. In her tears she pours out all her shame, nothing held back, and breaking the costly alabaster jar, she gives him everything. All the beauty the world has never recognized. Her secret self that she has tucked away, untouched by her choices and the abuse of others. She grasps the feet of the One who sees her and knows her for who she is, sin and all. She wipes them with her hair, an act of such extreme humility and devotion as to be shocking. She hides nothing, offers everything.
Somewhere along the way, this woman saw or heard about Jesus and knew him. She pours out her love before he even says the words, “You are forgiven.” Maybe the presence of Jesus is enough—she doesn’t need to hear the words to know they are true. Here is her Savior. Here is her hope.
Respectable Simon, inwardly agape, thinks, “If this Teacher is really a prophet, he would know who touches him. A sinner.” How ironic. Jesus knows full well who touches him, just as the woman herself knows. And Jesus welcomes her, honors her in front of all her judges. The only one who doesn’t know who he is—or in whose presence he now thinks such self-righteous thoughts—is Simon. Also a sinner.
Jesus says her sins are forgiven not because she sinned much, but because she loved much. Take that in. He doesn’t focus on her sins at all. Doesn’t name them, doesn’t call her out for them, doesn’t make her wallow in her shame as she has done all her life. He focuses on her love. He sees that she knows him, and that is enough. “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
This woman, the outcast sinner, will go in peace, forgiven, healed, and restored. What of Simon? We never get to hear how he responds, if this moment changes him. In this encounter with the One who forgives sin, does he begin to know himself a sinner? Does his time with Jesus change him, or is he too self-absorbed? Too self-conscious?
“He who is forgiven little, loves little.”
It is because you love so little that you see so little, Simon. When we stop justifying ourselves, trying to prove who we are, and look at Jesus, when we know him for who he is, when we love him with everything, then we know ourselves truly. Sinners. Forgiven.
Maybe, Simon, you could stop trying to earn love and just love him. But to love him, you must lose all that self-righteousness.
It’s easy for a respectable guy who has earned his reputation to give the appearance of listening to Jesus. But consider the bravery of the exiled woman to come before her tormenters and pour herself out before Jesus. This is love. This is a changed life. This is forgiveness.
Place yourself in the story. Are you Simon, skeptical, self-absorbed, a bit smug? Are you a guest at the table, watching and wondering? Are you the woman, labeled and rejected? Whoever you are, you’re a sinner. Jesus comes into your sin. He sits with you. His love is right there for the taking. It’s up to you how you will respond.
