The Feet of Christ
Luke 7:36-50
First Sunday in Lent
March 5, 2006
Feet. We don’t think too much about our feet, do we? We pretty much take them for granted…that is unless they start to cause us trouble…blister on our heel, a corn on our little toe, an ingrown toenail. Pretty much though, we don’t think about our feet. They are just there, doing their job, helping us get through the day. We’re glad we’ve got them, but we just don’t think too much about them.
I’ve been trying for awhile to think about the feet of Jesus. That’s been hard for me. You see, it is difficult to imagine the Lord of the universe having feet like mine. It is easier for me to think about the disciples’ feet…Peter’s feet which walked back and forth across rough planks of his fishing boat, Matthew’s feet which he tucked under himself as he was collecting the taxes from his fellow citizens, Simon the Zealot’s feet which were in constant motion as he tried to mobilize popular resistance to the Roman occupation.
Still, Jesus had feet as well. These were the feet which Mary played with while he was still in diapers. I don’t know if she knew the rhyme that we all say to our children… ”This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef. This little piggy had none. And this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home.” There was no doubt some first century equivalent.
These were the feet on which he ran and played with his friends as a young boy from Nazareth. These were the feet that carried him to the synagogue each Sabbath to worship God. These were the feet that stood among the sawdust and wood shavings in his father’s workshop. These were the feet that stepped into the Jordan River at his baptism. These were the feet that walked the dusty roads of Galilee and Judea as he ministered to his people. These were the feet that even walked on the surface of the water of the Sea of Galilee. These were feet that were used to walking. They were tough feet. They were calloused feet. They were busy feet. They were dirty feet.
These were the feet that took him to the home of Simon the Pharisee one day for dinner. They were all there, reclining at the table, an elbow resting on a pillow with their feet stretched out behind them.
And then entered the woman…the sinful woman…by implication, a harlot. Private dinner parties in that day and age were different than private parties with which we are familiar. It would not have been unusual at all to have uninvited townsfolk out on the fringes of the dinner party in order to stare and gawk at all of the important citizens of the city gathered in one place.
For some reason, celebrities attract gawkers. I think that is what was going on at Simon the Pharisee’s house that day, at least for many of the people. They wanted to get close to the town’s elite. In that culture, it wouldn’t have been all that unusual to have lookers-on.
Back in chapter 7, verse 34, Jesus declared himself to be a friend of tax collectors and sinners, which sets up the scene which is about to unfold. In the crowd of lookers and celebrity seekers that day was a woman…a sinner…a harlot. She had obviously gotten an advance look at the guest list somehow and knew beforehand that Jesus was going to be there. This was not just a chance encounter.
She came prepared. In her hand was a jar of ointment. Somehow, she made her way through the crowd and into the house. Suddenly she found herself standing and weeping at the feet of Jesus. She came to anoint him, but aware of the state of her life she wept at missed opportunities, at her sinful past, and at the thought of what he must think of her. Her tears flowed and washed the dust and grime from his feet. Seeing nothing else, she let down her hair and dried his feet with her flowing locks. If that is not a great enough sign of devotion, she began kissing his feet and then proceeded to anoint them with the oil which she had brought.
Now you have to understand what this looked like to these good, pious Jews gathered around the table that day. Touching a man’s feet in that culture could have sexual overtones. Plus, she was a sinner and therefore unclean. Touching Jesus would have made him ritually unclean as well. Suddenly, what was an elegant social gathering just a few minutes before, had become a scandal of immense proportions.
At this point, the Pharisee made two correct assumptions. He assumed that the woman was a sinner. Secondly, he assumed that if Jesus were really a prophet, he would know that.
Then he made two incorrect assumptions. He assumed that if Jesus knew what sort of woman this was who was touching him, he wouldn’t allow it. Then he assumed that since Jesus had done nothing to stop the woman, then he must not really be a prophet.
At that point, Jesus addressed him by name. “Simon,” he said, “I have something to say…” And then he put forth a riddle; not an uncommon occurrence at dinner parties such as this one. He said that there was a creditor who had two debtors: one owed him 500 denarii and the other 50. Neither one could pay the debt, so the creditor cancelled both. Jesus asked, “…Now which one of them will love him more?” Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the greatest debt cancelled.”
Jesus said that Simon had answered correctly. Then he contrasted the behavior of his host with that of the sinful woman. To Simon, he said that he had not been offered water to wash his feet; there was no kiss of greeting and friendship; there was no anointing of his head. Now, none of that was socially required, but Jesus used that lack of hospitality as a contrast with the woman. She did all of those things: washed his feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with oil.
She knew that her great many sins were forgiven and so she acted accordingly. Her loving acts were the evidence of the fact that she had been forgiven. The point of the riddle of Jesus was not that Simon had more or less sins than the woman. It was that she recognized the extent of her sin and he didn’t.
So where does this leave us on this first Sunday in Lent as we make our way toward the Easter celebration? What do we do with the feet of Jesus? What can we learn from the woman at the dinner party and Simon the Pharisee?
Let me offer a suggestion. I believe that there is something terribly wrong if we cannot see ourselves in the Pharisee. I believe that we are more like the Pharisees than we ever want to admit. Lent is the time of the church year to be especially cognizant of the hypocrisy and insincerity in our lives. It is the time to be aware of the double standards we hold.
Do you recall the section of the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus said this?
Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye (Matthew 7:1-5).
Notice some things about those few verses. It is clear that moral judgments will be made. The concern that Jesus has is the way in which those judgments will occur. There will indeed be times in which the Christian community is called upon to make ethical discernments about offending behavior, but they must be made with the awareness that the one doing the judging is him or herself also in need of God’s forgiveness.
Of course we should be aware of offending behavior, but how can we help others identify their own sinful actions without acknowledging that we too stand under the possibility of the same judgment?
Simon the Pharisee was either unable or unwilling to admit to his own participation in sin. How easy it is to forget the Apostle Paul’s injunction that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).
I have a tendency to want to classify sins, to rank them, to determine that some are worse than others. That way, I can say that my sins are not as bad as those of the guy down the street. After all, I haven’t robbed a gas station lately. I haven’t driven drunk. I haven’t beaten up my wife. I haven’t abused my kids. I haven’t purchased a member of congress.
How arrogant it is to believe that my sins are not as sinful as yours. What a misunderstanding of my status before God to believe that I deserve special consideration from God. How like Simon the Pharisee that is.
In this Lenten season, we stand at the feet of Jesus, guilty of the sin that precipitated those feet being nailed to the cross. We see those wounds and realize that they also mean forgiveness and grace for those who are truly repentant. Those feet mean healing and peace of mind for those who admit the depth of their sin.
In this Lenten season, I hope that we can all come to stand before the feet of Christ: humble, grateful, and in awe of his amazing love.
