Whatever
happened to Mary Chapin Carpenter? I really loved this singer-songwriter. I
thought she must have a beautiful soul. Her songs were full of poetic,
heart-aching images, and I’d rather hear her sing “Down at the Twist ‘N’ Shout”
than be a kid again at Christmas. I went to hear her in concert at
Philadelphia’s Mann Music Center in the fall of 1997. The woman on stage looked
a trifle heavier than the elegant blond who appeared on the liner of the CD I’d
just purchased, and the long, golden hair was snipped shorter to accommodate the
Indian summer heat. But none of that mattered once she began to sing. Her music
had the same painful honesty I was expecting, and the voice was as pure as the
night air.
Midway
through the concert, as Ms. Carpenter paused to introduce a new song, an
ebullient male fan shouted from the back of the stalls, “I love you, Chapin!”
The singer was silent for a second, and peered out over the crowd. A sardonic
grin spread across her face. “If you only knew what a slob I am,” she said.
“We’d break up within a week, and then I’d have to write songs about you.” The
audience howled with laughter.
If
you only knew the real me. That seems to be the theme of this week’s gospel in
the Revised Common Lectionary (Luke 7:38 – 8:3). Jesus finds himself being
honored by a party-crashing woman who is behaving, to say the very least,
erratically and probably inappropriately if judged by the rules of her culture.
This “woman of the city, who was a sinner” is anointing Jesus’ feet, weeping,
and using her unbound hair as a towel. It is an unseemly act of devotion.
Jesus’ host, Simon the Pharisee, seems to think that if Jesus really were a
true prophet, he’d know who this gal was and would never allow her to touch
him.
There’s
a huge difference between the image and the reality, isn’t there? The glamorous
music star who sees herself as a “slob” or the pious supplicant who is seen as
a “sinner” both represent us in some way. Our worldly image might be one of
piety or cleverness or elegance, but inside we’re filled with anger and
insecurity and depression. If the real us
were on display, would anyone—even Jesus—want anything to do with us?
What
we see in the woman in the Gospel story is a soul hungry for forgiveness,
desperate for approval. It’s the image of one who has really taken a wrong turn
in life—even though the Bible doesn’t exactly tell us what that wrong turn was.
Was she a prostitute? An adulteress? Did she consort with the wrong kind of
people? Just what did she do to make Simon the Pharisee despise her so much?
Even Jesus is willing to admit that she’d done something. She’s got a stain on her which the world just won’t let
her wash off.
But
inside this woman is a heart which longs for Jesus and believes that the one
who had pity on the widow of Nain and who was a “friend of tax collectors and
sinners” (7:34) would find her worthy of his compassion. And she was right.
In
this story we hear Jesus speak the words which are the cornerstone of our
faith: “Your faith has saved you.” (7:50) To the world you may be a rock star,
but to yourself you may be a slob. To Jesus you are both and neither. You are a
beloved, if erring, child. It takes real faith to see this and understand it
and internalize it. But if you can, it brings the peace that passes
understanding.
I
like to think that this story is not just about us as individuals. The contrast
between the sinful woman and the scornful Pharisee also speaks to us
collectively as the Church. Jesus loves the church in spite of our hypocrisy,
pettiness, and tendency to be judgmental. If we have faith in this, we have the
possibility to be compassionate and to be molded into the kind of community
Christ intended us to be. If we’re willing to kneel at Christ’s feet and ask
forgiveness for our institutional sins—which are many, by the way—we might find
in his great forgiveness great love which will embrace this weeping world.
 |
| Mary Magdalene as seen by 17th cent. artist, Guido Reni |
A
final thought: Note the inclusion in this pericope of verses 8:1-3. I don’t
think anyone who read this text with an ounce of common sense could ever
identify Mary Magdalene with the “woman of the city” mentioned in 7:36-50. The
idea that Mary was a reformed hooker comes from Pope Gregory the Great in a
sermon he preached around the end of the sixth century. The old boy must’ve
been getting into the communion wine, because Luke is clearly writing about two
different women here. What is notable about Mary M., however, is that she was
once demonically possessed—a fact which might be considered disqualifying on a
seminary application. Nevertheless, she was a true disciple of Jesus, and God
used her for his glory. Faith tells us that God can use any slob he wants—even the
likes of me and you. Believe it.
Thanks
for hanging out with me. Please drop by again, and don’t be afraid to leave a
comment.
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