A sermon preached by Beau Surratt on June 12, 2016 at St. Mary's Episcopal Church, Park Ridge, IL (Proper 6C).Then, turning toward the woman, Jesus said to Simon, “Do you see this woman?”Well, you see, there was a lot going on that evening. Simon, a rather well-to-do Pharisee, was throwing one of his famous dinner parties. Everyone in town loved to get invited to Simon’s dinner parties because the food was exquisite, of course, and the guest list was always impressive. Go to a party at Simon’s house and you’re sure to meet the latest teacher or guru whose reputation is getting around. That’s why Jesus was there, after all. He had been doing a lot of teaching, healing, and raising the dead all over town and had become known as something of a prophet,So Simon, not one to shy away from a debate, was eager to question some of Jesus’, shall we say, surprising actions and invites him over for dinner.As it turns out, though, Simon didn’t exactly learn from the Emily Post school of etiquette and he treats Jesus like something other than an honored guest, not even greeting him at the door or giving him an opportunity to clean up in preparation for dinner.Once the food and wine are flowing nicely, Simon settles in for a bit of conversation with Jesus perhaps in the hope that Jesus would say or do something impressive – like one of those miracles that have made him famous.Just as the conversation is getting good, quietly, as if she was trying not to be noticed despite the fact that she’s committing a huge social faux pas,a woman enters the house carrying an exquisite alabaster jar of costly perfume. Taken up as they are with the conversation and the meal, no notices her until she comes right up behind Jesus, kneels down, and begins to weep. Her tears fall gently onto Jesus’ journey-soiled feet and, as she gently unfurls her luminous locks of hair, she begins to dry Jesus’ feet with it and anoint them with the sweet perfume.Feet. Tears. Perfume. Hair – an act of love and service so lavish, so prodigal, so, well, fleshly, that it is almost scandalous. (1)Jesus receives this unnamed woman’s outpouring of love silently and reverently, in the spirit with which it was offered, interrupted by only the rather loud inner monologue of Simon, Jesus’ Pharisee host, who, no doubt hoping to rescue his dinner party from having been crashed and maintain his dignity as a member of the religious establishment, recognizes the woman who has lavished Jesus with love. SHE is a sinner. And if Jesus were really a prophet like everyone says he is he would know that and would stop her.Jesus, I imagine, experiences Simon’s suspicion and reticence just as deeply as the woman’s lavish act of love, and, after explaining what is really going on via a parable and asking Simon a question he can answer correctly he looks deeply into Simon’s eyes and asks him a question that is completely disarming:Simon, Do you see this woman?No, of course, Simon doesn’t see this woman. He sees a sinner who has crashed his dinner party and scandalized his guests. He doesn’t see a woman with the capacity to give and receive love, a human being, made in the image of God and capable of incredible, lavish generosity. Not only does Simon not see the woman’s humanity, he doesn’t see Jesus’ humanity either. He has invited Jesus to his home and has completely neglected to provide for even the most basic requirements of hospitality and yet, this woman, this nameless sinner according to Simon,has recognized the need of Jesus to be loved, embraced, and given refreshment and has offered her whole self – all of who she is – to tend to Jesus’ needs.Simon, Do you see this woman?I find myself wondering this morning which person I would be in this story. When confronted with humanity – when confronted with Jesus incarnate in broken, messy, flawed humanity, how would I respond?When I encounter humanity too long hated by some, denied opportunities by others, and simply ignored by yet more solely because of the color of their skin, what will I do?When I encounter humanity in need of nothing more than food and someone to listen, will I choose to be present?When I encounter humanity living with mental illness and struggling to figure out how to make life work will I seek out relationship?Will I be like the woman who loved lavishly or will I be like Simon?I know what the answer is too often. I choose to hide. Hiding is easier. Like Simon I choose to hide behind my own privilege, my own respectability, the fact that I have important work to do, that I have certain obligations because of who I am and what I have. Instead of seeing humanity I see categories and I let those categories give me an excuse to hide.What about you? What about us?When we encounter beautiful, messy, maddening, broken humanity will we hide or will we, like the unnamed woman in today’s Gospel, kneel down and tend, care for, and lavish the world will all of the love we can possibly give?Here’s the good news.We, like the unnamed woman, have no need to hide. Just before he declares to the woman the forgiveness of her sins Jesus says to Simon“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."We, dear friends in Christ, have been forgiven much.Week in and week out we gather together and God gives us the opportunity to call to mind our own sins – our sins as a body and our individual sins – our insistent tendency to hide from God and from each other, and we, like the unnamed woman, are assured of God’s grace and forgiveness. Hence we are called to show great love.And what’s more, every time we come to this table Jesus lavishes abundant love on us just like the unnamed woman did to him – he gives himself fully and completely to us in the Eucharist, the Sacrament of his Body and Blood. Hence we are called to show great love.We are called, forgiven equipped, nourished, and sent to lavish the world with acts of love in the same way Jesus to done so to us.Speaking of today’s Gospel passage, St. Ambrose writes, "The church washes the feet of Christ, wipes them with her hair, anoints them with oil, and pours ointment on them. She not only cares for the wounded and caresses the weary, but she also moistens them with the sweet perfume of grace. She pours this grace not only on the rich and powerful but also on those of lowly birth. She weighs all in an equal balance. She receives all into the same bosom. She caresses all in the same embrace."May it be so for us, St. Mary’s, may it be so for us and for the world. Amen. (1) http://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1002-what-the-body-knows(2) Just, A. A. (Ed.). (2005). Luke (pp. 128–129). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, via Logos Anglican. (with thanks to Scott Gunn for posting this quote on Facebook)