A woman is crying in the room where you are: What do you do? What are your options? You probably take your cues from the others in the room: Does it appear that anyone knows the woman or knows why she’s crying? Are the people nearest to her going to help her or is everyone ignoring her? Suppose you are the host of the gathering and a woman is crying in the room where you are: What do you do? Well, you can make a scene by telling the woman to stop crying and leave the room; you can do nothing, ignoring her and hoping she stops making a disturbance soon; or you can make a different scene by going to the woman, asking what is wrong and try to comfort her. Of the three options, sadly the easiest is the middle option: Pretend the woman isn’t there. Ignore her. Avoid the elephant in the room by talking about sports or the weather, and by your indifference let everyone else know that they should treat her the same way.
Jesus had the same three options as everyone else did when he realized that a crying woman was kneeling by him, washing his feet with her tears, drying them with her hair, and anointing them with fine oil. He could make a scene by angrily pushing her away and, for reasons of purity, insist she not touch him but leave the room. He could ignore her and talk about sports or the weather. Or he could make a magnanimous scene of deigning to help her, giving her money or bread from the table, saying a prayer with her and then sending her on her way – so that others would be impressed with how well he handled the awkward intruder at the dinner party. But Jesus chooses a fourth option – he forgives her. He neither condemns nor condescends. He forgives her sins, her past mistakes, her “whatever” and in so doing he lifts her up from the floor and restores her to a place of equality with everyone else in the room. She no longer had to slink or stoop or weep under the table. She was forgiven, saved, restored as an equal among equals. That was the scandalous, surprising choice Jesus made that day, when the woman was crying into the room.
This event in Jesus’ ministry must have been quite memorable, because it is one of the few stories that all four gospels tell. But when Matthew, Mark and John tell this story, they focus on the ointment – how expensive it was and how it was being wastefully applied to Jesus’ feet by some unnamed woman. Luke, though, turns this into a story about forgiveness – about how an extravagant God pours out this forgiveness upon us, unworthy guests at God’s global dinner party.
There is no denying how important Jesus’ act of forgiveness was to this woman. She was evidently beaten down by the burden of shame, so much so that she was not only uninvited to Simon the Pharisee’s dinner party, but she had to slink in and practically crawl under the table to get to Jesus. She was like the woman with the hemorrhage of blood who snuck up behind Jesus amidst a big crowd, wanting to touch the hem of his robe without being noticed. We’re not told why the woman at Jesus’ feet was crying, but there appears to be a combination of reasons for her tears: they were tears shed by someone who feels unworthy and yet who knows that this man will not cast her away. Out of all the people in that room, all the people in her life, she went to Jesus, looking for a connection, a bit of humanity in a world that had treated her inhumanely.
Lots of people carry around burdens of shame they hope someone will lift off their shoulders. They may not wear a scarlet letter on their chest, but they either know or feel that everyone defines them in terms of their brokenness or sins. So they carry shame for their addictions, their criminal record, their alcohol abuse, eating disorder, suicide attempts; they carry shame for being a victim or perpetrator of domestic or sexual violence; the shame that comes from not feeling safe to name their own sexual identity, being bisexual or transgendered, or from nagging, aching loneliness. If they deign to enter a social gathering, their shame is often reinforced no matter which of the three common options others pick in relating to them: whether people ostracize or kick them out, whether people ignore them and keep their distance, and even when people pity them and condescend to them in ways that still keep them at arm’s length.
It is true that the way to lift the burden of shame is found only in Jesus’ fourth option – the way of forgiveness and restoration and peace. And as a pastor, I can tell you that you ought to forgive others. I can quote the Lord’s Prayer we say every week: Forgive us our debts, our sins and trespasses, as we forgive those who sin against us. I can repeat the famous line from this passage: The one to whom little is forgiven, loves little. But in order to get you to take forgiveness to heart, I want to tell you about the angel’s share.
One of the challenges of modern life is to believe there is a direct, ongoing connection between us and God, between the realm of earth and the realm of heaven. Maybe before a meal we say a quick prayer, or when stuck in traffic we pray to God, or before a doctor’s appointment our thoughts turn to God. But we don’t often remember that God is ever near to us, and all our thoughts, words and deeds not only go forth from us into this world but also go out from us into God’s world. Surprisingly one group of people who regularly remembers how closely our world and God’s world are connected is whisky makers. For centuries, humans have worked to master the art of fermenting grain into alcoholic beverages. A critical part of this fermentation process is not the barley or the yeast, but the wooden barrels. Not only are barrels important for storing and transporting the liquor, they are crucial in the actual making of it. For example, storing whisky in oak barrels significantly improves the flavor of the whisky – which is why distillers still use them in this day and age when plastic or stainless steel containers are more readily available. Oak wood contains chemical compounds that add something to the taste of the whisky, like hints of vanilla, tannin, sherry or tobacco flavors.
More importantly, wooden barrels are relatively porous. They let the whisky breathe and oxidize, which improves the taste. As the whisky ages, the barrels breathe and some of the liquid evaporates. Between 2% – 5% of the whisky simply disappears each year, evaporating into the atmosphere. Now you can prevent this happening (and ruin the whisky’s flavor) or bemoan this happening (cursing the heavens for this loss of fine liquor); but long ago the whisky makers decided to call this loss through evaporation the “angel’s share.” If the liquor was so good, who could begrudge the angels in heaven from having their own wee dram of whisky?
The angel’s share – imagine if 2% of your life each day evaporated and went to heaven as the angel’s share of the best you can offer God. Maybe that 2% came from when you bit your tongue and didn’t say the hurtful or sarcastic words that were on your mind. Maybe that 2% came from when you did something nice – when you were polite in traffic, helped someone in the grocery store, gave a donation to the church or someone in need. The angels in heaven may well drink a toast with the “angel’s share” you provide them, but they might, just might, think you’re offering them a pretty pale and tepid brand of whisky. Being nice – holding open a door – giving a buck to someone on the street or writing a check – ay, they’re all well and good, but they don’t constitute a strong drink of human kindness, if you understand my meaning.
What Jesus did that was so scandalous, so worthy of being remembered in all four gospels, is that he fully forgave someone. He shared the forgiveness of God, who looks at debtors, one owing 50 denarii and one owing 500 denarii, and forgives them both equally. Jesus – who picks up this woman from the floor and lets her stand as an equal to him and to everyone else at the dinner party. Jesus – who doesn’t condescend or manipulate or say one thing while carrying a grudge in the heart, but rather who forgives. And who calls us to forgive in the same way, remembering how much God has already forgiven in our lives. Forgiving others, loving others – Jesus said they are directly proportional to one another. If you wish to love much, you need to forgive much, care much, offer peace much.
Imagine if just 2% of your faith life evaporated and ascended up to heaven as an angel’s share. We’re not talking about a tithe of 10% of your life – or even of a church pledge of 3-5% of your life and income. We’re talking about a 2% angel’s share – can you make the same choice Jesus did? Can you forgive those who’ve wronged you, wronged others, wronged themselves? Can you lift them up and let them sit at the table again? Can you see God’s grace active in their lives the way God’s grace has been active in yours? If that could be your angel’s share, there would be much less pain in our world, far less violence on our streets, and a real reason for a Pridefest in our city. If you gave an angel’s share to heaven, would there be enough coming from you to fill the angel’s cups? Would they smile at the full-bodied libation of faith you provide them? Remember Jesus’ choice and ask yourself: Would the angel’s share coming from my life be a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to the Lord?
AMEN