Wild Rose Congregational Church, U.C.C. Evergreen, Colorado

It is such a pleasure to be with you here in the beauty of nature.  And it is a pleasure to spend some time together pondering another story from scripture where Jesus attempts to teach us about the Kingdom of God.  Our story today seems very similar to one we heard not long ago about Mary anointing Jesus’ feet with oil.  The story in Luke is different, however.  It takes place early in Jesus’ ministry, not late.  It presumably takes place in Galilee, not Bethany.  It includes a story about debtors.  The Mary story seems to emphasize the extravagance of God’s love.  Today’s story seems to turn more around themes of forgiveness, and the new life that springs forth in us when we genuinely feel forgiven.

Today’s story contains a familiar point of contrast.  We have a common person, and we have a Pharisee.  The Pharisees believed that their salvation depended upon keeping God’s law and staying apart from those who failed to maintain the same standards to which they adhered. (Horn, p. 31)  It seems rather unusual that a Pharisee would invite Jesus to dine in his home, for Jesus was not one of the accepted leaders of the day.  Our host, whose name is Simon, has apparently overlooked some of the welcoming behaviors that might have been extended to Jesus as the guest of honor.  He does not offer water for foot washing, he does not extend a kiss of hospitality, nor does he anoint Jesus’ head with oil.  Simon will soon become upset by the chaos in his dining room for several reasons.

First of all, although it was not uncommon for regular folks to gather around the periphery of fine meals to catch a snatch of the teachings of the men gathered, it was highly unusual for a woman to make her way to the table.  And it was highly unusual for a woman to let her hair down in the company of men, or to touch the men, let alone wipe their feet with tears, kiss their feet and anoint them.  These actions by the woman described as a “sinner” would be enough to cause the host great concern.  Rules were being broken right and left.  And the behavior of the woman shone a spotlight on Simon’s own inattentiveness as a host.

But let’s get past all of that to look at Simon’s real deficiency.  It is not his slighting of Jesus as a guest, but it is his spiritual pride.  He works so hard to obey God’s law that he no longer sees himself as a sinner.  He sees a great gulf between himself and the woman in his house, but he fails to see the gulf between himself and God.  If he perceived himself to be in need of God’s grace, he cannot imagine that he would need much of it.  The woman, on the other hand, is such a spiritual wreck that Simon cannot imagine her redemption.  What can God do with such a person?  Why would God bother? (Donovan)

Jesus grasps the situation as a “teachable moment.”  He tells a story of a creditor and two debtors.  He is teaching Simon in a non-confrontational, round-about way.  God is the creditor and the one who thinks he has little debt is Simon.  The person described as having much debt is the woman who has entered the house.  According to the rules of her culture, she tops the list of the town’s sinners.  Simon grudgingly responds to Jesus question that indeed, the one who owed more would be more grateful and would love the creditor more.  Jesus, by announcing the woman’s forgiveness, has performed a priestly function by restoring her to the community. Of course, only God was presumed capable of forgiving sins.  So much he had to teach them, to teach us. 

The title of this sermon indicates that I want us to think about each of these people, Simon and the woman, and try not to take sides.  Simon was a product of a very patriarchal culture.  He was a man of privilege.  And by the rules of his day, he was successful and exemplary.  The woman was not willing to live by the rules of Simon’s day.  She saw in Jesus a man who manifested a different type of  regard for those around him.  It was as though she needed to interact with him more and more until she could at last love herself with the love that he held for her and for all people.  The Pharisee Simon was acting out the role that was scripted for him.  Can we fault him for that?  The love of Jesus pulled the woman out of her prescribed role as village sinner and planted her feet firmly in the Kingdom of God.  Jesus blessed her with this blessing,  “Your faith has saved you.  Go in peace.”  I wonder if she was able to hold onto that faith in the culture in which she lived.  I pray that it was so.

In that it is Father’s Day, I would like to bring in a more modern story of people playing their cultural roles.  This story is also strongly influenced by the concept of patriarchy, which might be shortened to the notion that “father knows best.”  Patriarchy makes certain presumptions about the role of women and the role of children, each of whom is to be subordinate to a man.  Sometimes fathers can hang onto these presumptions well after their sons have reached adulthood.  They can be every bit as ironclad and invulnerable as our friend Simon was in the scripture lesson today. 

Marriage and family therapist Frank Pittman tells us the story of such a man in his book Man Enough:  Fathers, Sons, and the Search for Masculinity.  Pittman, who is also a movie reviewer, calls upon the themes found in a 1970 movie for a segment of his book entitled “The Fatherless Father.”  The film is called “I Never Sang for My Father” and stars Melvyn Douglas as the father and Gene Hackman as his middle aged son.  Each of these actors would be nominated for a best actor award that year.  In the film, the two men confront each other on the day of the mother’s funeral.  The son is staying with the old man, helping him get ready for bed.  They talk about the old man’s life.  He was the son of a violent alcoholic, who ran out on the family.  He had then raised the younger siblings and had come through life feeling good about himself.  Somewhat like the Pharisee Simon, perhaps:  A solid citizen, a good provider, a stable family man.  He felt he was everything his father was not.  Unfortunately, perhaps again like Simon, he offered no warmth, no vulnerability.  He does not notice what his son senses so painfully; that he has gotten no joy from raising his children.

Throughout the course of the conversation, the younger man confesses to his father that he has never felt loved by him.  He also shares his plan to marry a younger woman and move away from the area.  “With sympathy, affection and great trepidation, the son invites the father to come live with him. The father refuses any help, announcing his credo:  ‘I don’t need anybody.  I can take care of myself.  I’ve always had to take care of myself.  Who needs you?  Out!  I’ve lived my whole life so that I can look any man in the eye and tell him to go to hell!’  That night, the son leaves the father’s house forever.

Pittman astutely points out that the father was completely blind to the notion that his restrained dignity and state of moral superiority were shields that he had adorned in his battle with his own father.  And these shields would also keep his own son from getting close to him.  We can perhaps feel pity for the alcoholic father who ran out on his family.  And we can certainly feel pity for the son with the rock-hard father.  But is there room in our hearts for the father in the middle, who girded his loins and took up his shield and became invulnerable?  Is there not a touch of the overly-independent, intimacy-avoiding patriarch in all of us?  Can we not admit that life seems simpler without emotions and wants and needs and negotiations?

Pittman concludes, “At the end, the son was thus left unanointed by his father, unable to be the man in the relationship, the one who has the strength and the wisdom to protect and comfort the father.  There was a healing that could not take place, and both father and son lived out the rest of their lives in loneliness.”