Year C, Trinity 2, Simon the Pharisee and the Woman Who Was a Sinner (Luke 7:36-50)

1. In this morning’s address I’m going to focus on the story we have just heard from Luke’s Gospel, about how Jesus responded to Simon the Pharisee and the woman who was a sinner.

· It really is a very vivid little story, isn’t it? It’s told with such skill that one can almost see and hear what goes on. It could almost be part of a film script, I think.

· Simon was a Pharisee, which means he was one of the separated ones, separated out by himself for a life of purity, self-consciously trying to live according to the law set down in the Jewish scriptures, our Old Testament. He would be literate and highly educated in the Jewish law and the scriptures. He would be used to making moral judgements, and used to people following his lead on what was right and wrong. And he no doubt saw himself as a good man, in a right relationship with his God.

· We are told the woman was a sinner, and everyone knew she was. We aren’t told how she sinned, but she has traditionally been seen as a whore, a prostitute. Whatever the truth, we can see clearly that she was ‘no better than she ought to be’, because of her abandoned behaviour with Jesus. It was the custom then for respectable Jewish women of a marriageable age to put their hair up in public and only let their crowning glory down in private with their husbands. So for her to use her hair in public to wipe her tears from Jesus’s feet would have been an act of great immodesty.

· First I want to tease out some aspects of the story, and then I want to look at the lessons we can learn from it about love and forgiveness.

2. So let us picture the scene:

· I imagine Simon’s house would have been a typical well-to-do middle-eastern house of the time – not so different to many traditional houses there still. It would be built round a courtyard, perhaps with a bit of a garden, a fountain if he was really well off, and a trained vine to give shade. In warm weather meals would be taken outside, in the courtyard, in the shade of the vine.

· A guest would usually be given water on arrival to wash the feet, at the very least. In those days roads were dusty and shoes just an open sandal, so cool water would be poured over the feet to clean and comfort them. A specially honoured guest would be welcomed with a kiss of peace too, and a drop of perfumed oil, in much the same way as I remember being offered eau-de-cologne when I got onto a long distance bus in Turkey a few years ago. But Simon does none of these things for Jesus.

• Was this a deliberate discourtesy? Not necessarily. Not all Pharisees were enemies of Jesus, but it does suggest that Simon was not a particular admirer and sympathiser.
  
• Was he perhaps intending to catch Jesus out, so that he could condemn him? This also seems unlikely, because Simon courteously calls Jesus Rabbi or teacher when Jesus addresses him.
  
• Maybe Simon was simply patronising Jesus. This startling young Galilean was something of a celebrity already, and perhaps Simon enjoyed collecting celebrities. This could explain the combination of a certain respect with the omission of the usual civilities.

· People lived much more public lives then than we do. It would be quite normal when a Rabbi, a teacher, was invited to eat at such a house, for others not invited to come into the courtyard to listen to the conversation, to pick up the pearls of his wisdom on the sidelines. This would explain the woman’s presence – as a notorious sinner she would definitely not have been invited by Simon.

· Table manners were also quite different to ours. Diners would not sit but recline around a tray or low table, on low couches or cushions, resting on the left elbow to leave the right arm free to eat, with their feet stretched out behind. This explains how the woman was standing behind him at his feet. It would be quite wrong to imagine her crouched at his feet under the table!

· So when Jesus reclines, in my minds eye I see this woman, who was no better than she ought to be, so overtaken by love for him that she bursts into tears. The tears flow over his feet, and she uses her loose hair to dry them. Then she kisses the feet, and anoints them with the very concentrated perfume which like other Jewish women of the time, she carried in a small phial around her neck, called an alabaster.

3. Jesus uses this remarkable scene to challenge Simon in a parable about love and forgiveness. Who loves most? The person who has been forgiven most or the person who has less to be forgiven for? Simon gets the answer right, and Jesus relates it to the woman.
‘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.’

· Is this a criticism of Simon? Probably, though we are not told of the extent of Simon’s own sins! But I feel it certainly is a criticism of Simon’s closed and self-satisfied attitude to sinners. It would surely have given Simon a lot to think about! And it set tongues wagging around the table in criticism of Jesus: ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’, because all Jews would know that only God can forgive sins. Though I notice that in Luke’s text Jesus makes no such claim; he only declares to her: ‘Your sins are forgiven’.

· So how are we to interpret this parable today, 2000 years later? On the face of it the clear meaning is that the people who love God most are those who have sinned most and been forgiven most. How can this be true? And if it is, doesn’t it invite us to be as bad as we can be, to be forgiven most and love most?

· Some scholars have detected an ambiguity in the Greek text handed down to us. Clearly the woman loved Jesus very much, and Jesus himself declares that her sins have been forgiven. But was the woman forgiven because she loved, or did she love because she had been forgiven? Commentators have argued at length about this, but I’m certainly not qualified to give an opinion on it.

· I wonder though, if this is to look at the link between love and forgiveness in the wrong way. Maybe we should look at it as a dynamic psychological process at work in a relationship between two persons, rather than as cause and effect operating on abstract categories. Think about how it is between people who love each other, whether they are husband and wife, parent and child, or just good loving friends. This is me speaking to someone I love:

• I confess I have faults, which lead me to do things I know are wrong and give you pain.
• I also know that you love me and accept me for who I am despite my faults.
• And I love you, and I am truly sorry for what I have done to hurt you. I will really try to be better, and I will be better.
• I know I don’t deserve it, but I ask you to forgive me.

When you do forgive me, my love for you, and my determination not to hurt you, are both reinforced.

· Here the relationship is one where love and forgiveness operate together in a dynamic process – neither one precedes the other.

· Perhaps God works a bit like this too, but in mirror image. Now this is God speaking to us:

• I know you have faults, which lead you to do things you know are wrong, and give me pain
• But I love you, and accept you for what you are despite your faults.
• I can see that you love me, and that you are truly sorry you have hurt me. You say you will really try to be better, and perhaps you will surprise me by being so.
• You don’t deserve it, but you are forgiven.

4. If this is right, if God really does work like this, it is a message of great hope, isn’t it?

· If we are open to the love shown us by God - Our Father in heaven, as Jesus puts it - God will forgive our trespasses of the past, our sense in the present of loving and being loved by God will be reinforced, and that will make us better able to be good and please God in future.

· It is a virtuous circle, which drives away corrosive guilt and helps us to be better people. As Jesus said to the woman: ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’

· And on this Fathers’ Day, I see an important lesson here for all of us: we should try to model our behaviour in relationships on the loving, forgiving behaviour we experience from our loving-father God!

Year C, Easter 2, St Thomas Sunday, 15 April 2007

1. Introduction

• In the CofI we celebrate the feast of St Thomas the Apostle on the 3rd July, but the Orthodox churches remember him today, the first Sunday after Easter. They call it St Thomas Sunday, because the traditional gospel reading, which we share with them, tells the familiar story of how Thomas came to be called “Doubting Thomas”.
• Now Thomas is one of my heroes, one of my favourite saints. I admire what I see of his character from the Gospels. And I enjoy the romance of his legendary missionary expedition to India. I feel it’s a bit unfair to call him by the disparaging nick-name “Doubting Thomas” - I much prefer the way Orthodox Christians call him “Believing Thomas”. So I want to take this opportunity to celebrate him a bit.

2. What do we know about Thomas from the Gospels?

It’s only in John’s Gospel that we learn anything at all about him. Elsewhere in the NT he is only a name on lists of Apostles. He’s dubbed Thomas the Twin – Didymus, in Greek. But the name Thomas itself is from the Aramaic word Toma, which also means twin. So the name tells us nothing except that he was a twin. Eastern Church tradition calls him Judas Thomas, so perhaps he was nicknamed The Twin to distinguish him from other Judases. We’re not told anything about his background. And we know nothing about the other twin.

The first time we hear Thomas speak is when Lazarus has just died. Jesus decides to go to Lazarus’s deathbed, but it’s in Judea. The last time Jesus was there, the people had tried to stone him. The disciples don't like this idea at all, and resist his decision, but Jesus is determined. John gives Thomas the last word: ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him.’ He may have been pessimistic, but Thomas was also brave, and he was loyal.

Next, at the Last Supper, Jesus rather elliptically tells the Twelve that he is going away to prepare a place for them, but that he will return to bring them with him. Jesus says: ‘You know the way to the place where I am going’. Practical, logical Thomas struggles to understand what his teacher is really saying. Why does Jesus always insist on speaking in riddles? He says ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?’ We can just hear the exasperation in his voice, can’t we! But Thomas does succeed in clarifying matters, for himself, but no doubt also for the others, who were perhaps too proud to admit that they too did not understand. Jesus replies with words which echo down the ages to us: ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.’

But it’s in today’s reading that we really see how Thomas’s mind works:

• He isn’t there when Jesus first appears to the other disciples. They tell him a ridiculous story. Jesus, the man they saw crucified, dead, and buried, has come to them through locked doors, they have talked with him, and he has shown them his wounds. Thomas declares: ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’
• A week later, Jesus appears again, and this time Thomas is there. Jesus asks Thomas to touch his wounds, saying: ‘Do not doubt but believe’. John doesn’t tell us whether Thomas really does touch the wounds, but he does report Thomas confessing a new found faith: ‘My Lord and my God!’ And Jesus uses the incident to speak, through those who hear the exchange, to you and to me, and to generations unborn: ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’
• Clearly Thomas is one of those independent men who like to make up their own mind. He doesn’t take anything on trust, particularly if it doesn’t square with his own experience. But when he has satisfied himself that something is true, his faith is great and I feel quite sure Thomas would act on it.

3. That’s all we know of Thomas from the NT, but we do have other sources of information about him, which if we can believe them confirm that Thomas really did act on his faith.

There is an ancient tradition, which is supported by early documentary evidence, that Thomas went to India to preach the Gospel, and died there. And there is a living Christian tradition in India that claims Thomas founded their churches. Let’s examine the evidence.

• The ancient tradition of the Syrian Church has it that Thomas went to the East as a missionary, but there is some uncertainty about just where.
• Writing before 325AD, the church historian Eusebius of Caesarea, states that Thomas went to preach the Gospel in Parthia. Parthia is usually taken to mean the Persian Empire stretching from modern Pakistan to Mesopotamia, but the term was often used loosely.
• And there is the starange Gnostic apocryphal text dated by scholars to the early C3rd, called the Acts of Thomas. It purports to record Thomas’s missionary journeys in India, and eventual martyrdom there. But it also contains a lot of fanciful material.
• The church at Edessa in Mesopotamia honoured Thomas as the Apostle to India from at least the late C4th. Edessa is now called Urfa, and it’s in modern SE Turkey. From the C3rd through Byzantine times, it was an important Eastern Christian centre with its liturgies in Syriac, a form of the Aramaic language that Jesus himself spoke. Surviving copies of Syriac hymns, attributed to Ephrem the Syrian, preserve a tradition that Thomas’s bones were brought back from India by a merchant after his martyrdom there.

Even today, on the Malabar Coast in Kerala, South India, there are millions of people who call themselves St Thomas Christians, who trace their faith back to Apostle Thomas.

• They very firmly hold the tradition that Thomas preached the Gospel, baptised, and founded churches there for 20 years, until he was martyred in AD72. They point to a small hill called St Thomas’ Mount, near Madras, as the site of his martyrdom.
• Many scholars doubt this, but they may be biased. They suggest the St Thomas churches were founded several hundred years later, perhaps by a later Thomas. They suggest the forbears of the St Thomas Christians adopted St Thomas the Apostle as their founder as a sort of Asian rival to St Peter of Rome. The rivalry for pre-eminence among clerics knows few bounds!
• Whatever the truth, the St Thomas Christians maintained links with the Eastern churches throughout the Middle Ages. When the Portuguese navigator Vasco da Gama reached the Malabar Coast in 1498 he found an estimated 2 million Christians using the Eastern, Syrian rite, with 1500 churches under their own Metropolitan bishop.
• The Portuguese considered the Eastern-rite churches heretical, and they tried to convert them forcibly to RC doctrines. The St Thomas Christians split, and are now divided over several denominations, but they are still there, 6 million strong and 20% of the population of Kerala. Some are in communion with Rome, and some with various Eastern-rite churches. One group, the Mar Thoma Syrian Church, is in communion with the two Anglican churches in India, and so with us.

So did St Thomas really go to India? As I read the evidence, there’s nothing to prove that he couldn’t have, and quite a lot to suggest that he might have, but not enough to prove that he did! I don’t see any strong reason to disbelieve the ancient traditions of the Eastern churches. And I don’t see why we should offend our fellow Christians in India by refusing to acknowledge the testimony of their living tradition.

4. So to conclude:

• I admire Thomas, because in the picture John paints of him I see a loyal friend, a strong character, practical, clear thinking, and independent minded.
• Some of us are blessed, as Jesus says, with a simple faith, believing what we are told, and acting on it. Others – like Thomas – do not come to faith so easily. I identify with him, because I don’t either. We feel a need to assess the evidence for ourselves, to use our God-given powers of reason to tease out a thing before we believe it. It’s the mindset of modern science, but Thomas’s story shows there have always been people like that. And a faith formed by questioning, as Thomas’s was, can be just as strong as a simple faith, I think. I don’t see Jesus’s response to Thomas as a rebuke: it is much more a simple statement of fact, about different kinds of people.
• And I want to believe that Thomas took Jesus’s commission to heart and travelled to India to preach the Gospel. It seems to be in keeping with his character. Once he had made up his mind, it is just what I would expect of him. So whatever doubts scholars might introduce, I shall continue to think of him as Thomas the Apostle to India.

Year C, Lent 4, Mothering Sunday, 18 March 2007

1. Introduction

Mothering Sunday is such a lovely opportunity for us to make a fuss of our Mothers, isn’t it? And if they are no longer with us, to remember them, and to recall how much we owe them. We’ll all be doing so today, I’m sure, and it’s right that we should.

I want to start by reflecting a little on how much I owe my own mother:

• I owe her my very life, of course, as we all do our mothers. She carried me safe in her body for 9 months, and nurtured me, from the time when I was just a bundle of cells until I arrived squalling into the world.
• Then throughout my childhood she was there, to love me as only a mother can, to comfort me when I was hurt or frightened, to encourage me to be brave and to be ‘a useful engine’. And still she nurtured me – even when I was away at boarding school, every fortnight I received a fruit cake in a parcel through the post from her.
• As I grew to adulthood she let me go, to make my own way in the world. But she was still always there to love, to comfort, to encourage, and, yes, to nurture me, whenever I needed it.
• And it was she who taught me the first elements of her Christian faith. One of my earliest memories is of learning my first prayer at her knee: ‘Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, bless the bed that I lie on’.
• I am very blessed to have had such a mother, and I give thanks to God for her. Most of us are similarly blessed. But we need to remember that not all children are so blessed. And also that there are women who yearn for children who cannot have them.

In the rest of this address, I’m going to reflect a little on the origins of the Mothering Sunday tradition, and then focus on the mother themes in today’s OT and Gospel readings – the good compilers of the lectionary have of course carefully chosen ‘mother’ readings for the day that’s in it!

2. Mothering Sunday

The 4th Sunday of Lent was not originally a celebration of motherhood. At least from the C16th in England, it was the day when people returned to make offerings in their “mother church”, the main church or cathedral of the area. Hence it came to be known as ‘Mothering Sunday’.

If children had moved to neighbouring towns and villages, this would be one of the few occasions when whole families could get together. Remember, not much more than 100 years ago, very many children would be sent away from home to work at no more than 10 or 12 years old, as an apprentice if they were a boy, or as a domestic servant if they were a girl.

According to historians, this was the origin of the English tradition that children and young people working away from home should be given the day off on Mothering Sunday, to visit their mothers. I’m not sure if this was an Irish tradition too, but I’d love to know whether or not it was. We may just have borrowed it from the Church of England.

I imagine that as they walked along the country roads, the boys would stop and pick a bunch of violets or other flowers as a present for their mother. And equally the girls might bring their mother a present of a cake. Hence the old traditions of bunches of flowers, and the delicious Simnel cake.

That was the ancient tradition, at least in England. Like so many other old traditions, it was just about extinct after WW1: killed off by social changes and industrialisation. But it got a new lease of life, under the impact of the American invention of ‘Mother’s Day’, which was designated by US President Woodrow Wilson in 1914 to be held on the 2nd Sunday of May. It has now become something of a commercial opportunity, to sell cards and flowers and boxes of chocolates, but I think it’s rather nice that we have managed to retain the ancient traditional Church day for it, on this side of the Atlantic.

In East Anglia, where I spent my childhood, the resurrection of Mothering Sunday is said to be due to the impact of all the American airmen on the bases established there during WW2. I certainly remember it as a living Church festival in the 1950s – my parents would take me and my brother into the woods to pick nosegays of primroses and wood anemones, which would be blessed and given to children at a children’s service to take back to their mothers.

3. The Mothering Sunday traditions, and the emotions they evoke, are warm and tender and comforting. But in case we are in any danger of getting carried away by sentimentality, today’s scripture readings provide the antidote. They serve to remind us that being a mother is not just about flowers and cakes and loving hugs. It is also about heartbreak, and separation, and even death. Even today, being a mother can be a dangerous thing: you may, like me, have seen or heard the news about 10 days ago of Tania Corcoran, a Garda Sergeant, who died giving birth to twins in Drogheda. One of her babies died in the womb, and the other is desperately ill. She was a relative of my sister-in-law and I ask for your prayers for Tania and her family.

a. In the OT reading from Exodus 2:1-10, we heard the strange little tale of Moses in the Bulrushes.

• The background to the story is that Pharaoh decreed that Hebrew boys should be drowned at birth in the Nile, because he feared the Hebrew minority becoming too strong in his kingdom. The girls were allowed to live: no doubt they would have been married off to Egyptian men, and their children would be Egyptian. A rather nasty ancient case of ethnic cleansing.
• Moses’ mother saved him from this fate by hiding him, until he was too big to hide anymore, and then she made a little boat for him from a basket, and left him to be found in the rushes by the river-bank. He was found by Pharaoh’s daughter, who took pity on him, and decided to adopt him. Moses’ own mother was employed to nurse him, but when he was weaned, she had to give him up to Pharaoh’s daughter.
• Two things strike me about this story:

1. how completely torn the emotions of Moses’ natural mother must have been, to be compelled to give away to another woman the child to whom she had given life, and whom she had saved and nurtured. But she knew that was the only way to show her love for him.
2. the strength of the love of Pharaoh’s daughter for this little Hebrew boy. She no doubt risked the wrath of the state to save his little life, even though he belonged to a hated minority. The love of a foster mother, or of an adoptive mother, is just as valuable in God’s eyes as the love of a natural mother.

b. In the Gospel reading (John 19:25-27) we heard John’s poignant story about how Jesus, even in agony on the Cross, expressed his love for his mother, and the disciple he loved.

• Public execution is an ugly thing, but the prolonged torture of crucifixion must have been particularly gut-wrenching to watch. Yet Mary his mother found the strength to stay close by Jesus in his agony. How torn she must have been, too: repelled by his ghastly death, yet drawn to be near her beloved son in his last hours. In Mary at the Cross we see an image of the eternal love at the heart of motherhood.
• Mary the mother of Jesus was supported in her vigil by four others: her sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene, as well as someone not named, but described as the ‘disciple whom Jesus loved’. Scholars have identified Mary’s sister as Salome, the mother of James and John, the sons of Zebedee, two of the twelve called by Jesus. She, you may remember, was rebuked by Jesus for asking him to give her sons the chief place in his Kingdom. The ancient tradition of the Church is that the disciple Jesus loved was Salome’s son John, the author of John’s Gospel. If scholars and tradition are right, this John too, like John the Baptist, would be Jesus’s cousin.
• I find it very moving that on the brink of his death, Jesus should think to commit Mary his mother to the care of John his cousin, and John to the care of Mary, to look after each other, and to comfort each other’s loneliness when he was gone. A truly practical example of the love of God at work in evil times.
  

4. So, to conclude, it is surely very right for us, on this Mothering Sunday, to thank God for our mothers and for their love for us, whether they are our natural mothers or our foster or adoptive mothers. But let us also remember those mothers whose hearts are broken by death or separation from a child. And let us not forget all those women who long to have a child but cannot, nor all those children who for whatever reason cannot give thanks for a mother’s love.

Announcing Joakim's Godtalk

As well as blogging about my garden under the pen-name Joakim, I'm training to be a Diocesan Reader in the Church of Ireland. Under the guiding hand of my Rector, I am learning the trade of writing and preaching sermons. I prefer to call them addresses, because the word sermon rings too much of teaching, which as a layman I feel neither called nor qualified to do. Rather I see myself as giving witness, and trying to encourage people to think about their faith for themselves.

I find I benefit greatly from the discipline of preparing an address on a text from the lectionary. It forces me to explore and test my own faith, which only serves to strengthen it.

I plan to post my addresses and other God Talk stuff in this blog. If you enjoy God in the Garden, you may also find something of interest here. Whether you do, or not (more likely perhaps!), I would be delighted to get your comments. Feedback is one thing I know that I need!