Luke 7:36-8:3

We have some work to do today. I know it is the Sabbath, the Lord’s Day. But we have some work to do. Yes we will rejoice in a few minutes as Kyle and Erica bring their daughter Evangeline Grace, to be baptized in our midst.  But for that very reason, we have work to do. Every time a person comes to be baptized, those of us who have been baptized commit ourselves to the hard and challenging work of discipleship. We do that by renewing our own baptismal vows: our promises to live out our lives as followers of Jesus Christ, shaping our thoughts, our words, and our actions so that they embody and indeed create more and more the beloved community, the realm of God that Jesus proclaimed.

Some of you know that I have just returned from a week away at a conference with 30 other priests. It was a vocational planning conference, where I was asked to look at goals – professional and personal – and to then make a plan on how to achieve them.  It was a wonderful time away, but there too, we had much work to do, listening to presentations, responding to them, and then mapping out one’s life for the future with a written plan. But in the materials we were sent beforehand, we were promised some comforts amidst that work. We could make an appointment for a massage if we wanted, and the conference center was located on a lake where there were kayaks and canoes for boating, and for those brave enough to try, swimming as well.

Alas, we were misinformed: there were no massages available. And new regulations at the center meant that because we came with no registered lifeguard, we could only look at the lake. Boating and swimming were off limits.

Well what about some of those comforts as we consider our vocational goals as the Body of Christ, this work we have before us? The vows of baptism are short-term, to be lived out in how we relate to each other at coffee hour this morning, and they are long-term, ours for eternity. They can seem overwhelming and unrealistic. How are we sustained in that work?

Here is the deal: I cannot offer you a massage to make the work of fulfilling them any easier. I cannot offer you a ride in a canoe or a refreshing swim. But that does not mean we are without resources today for all that is ahead of us.

Because we have a story. It is this morning’s story from Luke’s gospel. And while it is only one story from the Bible, it can, like every story from scripture, embody the whole of the Gospel for us. It is the story of a woman who seems to have an absolute clear understanding of her vocation, and her purpose, of her goal in this moment, and perhaps for her whole life:  she is someone who wants to bring her full self to Jesus Christ in adoration and love.

As with so many other persons who encountered Jesus – especially the women – there is so little else that we know about her as she enters the scene. We do not know her backstory. We do not know her name. We do not know her history. All that Luke tells us is this: that she was a woman in the city, and that she was a sinner.  Now all too many have jumped to the conclusion that this woman was a prostitute. But there is nothing in the scriptural account that suggests that. All we are told is that she was a sinner.

You do not need to know much about me at all to know one thing that is certainly true: I am a sinner. I have made mistakes. I have been selfish. I have wronged others and held onto resentment when others have wronged me. And I do not need to know much about you to know this truth: you, in ways unique to your own experience, have done the same. We do not know this woman. But of course we do.

And we do know something else, something the story reveals. She must have been a person of remarkable inner strength and bearing. For what she does is audacious in that time and place. She walks into the home of Pharisee, uninvited and unannounced. She places herself in a situation where all the cultural values she would have learned would have been shouting with one voice, “You do not belong here.” But neither doubt or others’ voices will prevent her from fulfilling her vocation.

Having learned that Jesus was eating in the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. And what else does she do? She massages his feet, she kisses them.

Did you notice that? Yes, she has brought her precious ointment for anointing. But the anointing begins with tears. Clearly she is moved. Are they tears of sorrow, or tears of joy? We do not know. You know how that is don’t you? We are in the midst of some joyful event at church, and then we notice a friend beside us close to tears, and realize that the particular joys of some in the body may mean sadness or unfulfilled hopes for others. And then on another Sunday, we look across the church and see another in the body close to tears and we wonder what could be wrong. And then we discover in a conversation that some kind of deep and unexpected joy has overwhelmed that person and she has been drawn closer to God. As I said, we do not know this woman, but of course, we do.

Whatever the source of her tears, they are intimate, as is the very act in which she engages. Which suggests that there may be something else about we can know about this woman. Perhaps this is not her first encounter with Jesus. Might it be possible that she has already met Jesus? Encountered him in the city before his visit to the Pharisee? Might it be that she has already experienced his expansive embrace, his forgiveness of her sins, and that her gestures here are actually in response to what she has already received? Might there already have been an anointing – one in which Jesus bestowed upon this woman the grace that is bestowed upon us all – that her soul, however wounded it may have been, was massaged by the divine love we call grace? If that were to be true, then when Jesus announces that her sins are forgiven, he is proclaiming a truth that has already happened.

This woman knows who she is – someone worthy to come before Jesus Christ with her love and adoration, regardless of what others might think. And in coming to Jesus, she brings both tears and treasure, offering her whole self to Christ. Her presence, and her witness become the occasion for Jesus Christ to proclaim Good News. Indeed, in her offering of herself, she becomes Good News.

As Paul reminds us, we love, because God first loves us. Yes, we will renew our promises to serve God in a few moments, but only after we have confessed what we believe: that through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the gracious spirit of forgiving love is being poured out in the world. So when we take up the responsibilities of our baptismal covenant, we can do so with joy and confidence because we have been anointed; anointed with water and Spirit, massaged with the oil of grace. Assured of our dignity and worth in God’s sight, how could we not see the dignity and worth of every other one of God’s creations?

And so it is that a Kyle and Erica, whom we love dearly, will bring their child to the font today. We know, that for them, there have been tears. And for them, there is treasure. And they know that as well. For today we will baptize Evangeline Grace. And there in her name is our story. By grace, we are saved and made whole. And you know where the name Evangeline comes from? From the word evangelium – that is Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ.

So there is a massage today, and an anointing. Anointing with water. Anointing with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit. And like a woman’s fervent and faithful kiss, there is the grace that is always wooing us, wakening us, and calling forth from us our whole selves, our tears and our treasure, the full measure of our devotion.

Amen

A Sermon for St. John’s Episcopal Church
Charlestown, Massachusetts
Preached on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
June 16, 2013
By the Rev. Thomas N. Mousin