Off the Wall Devotion
Patti Thor
Weeping in front of the staring crowd, she stood at his feet, despised by all but one. What could possibly have motivated her to such a socially suicidal move? What caused the tears to the point of sobbing? Why would she pour out her life's savings – her security – on this one? It started as any normal day might in ancient Israel but with one dramatic difference.
~~~
The Teacher is coming to my town. Rumor has it that he will be dining tonight at Simon the Pharisee’s house. Perhaps I will see him walk by on the streets today. What should I wear? I can’t see the Master without wearing my most treasured possession, my precious alabaster vial necklace. I remember how long it took me to save the money to buy it. A year's wages is a lot to spend, but at least I wear the beautiful vial for special occasions. Seeing the Master definitely qualifies as special.
If only I were a man and a regular at the synagogue, I could be a guest and go to hear him speak. I would see this one who everyone is talking about. I know that my ways have not been true and righteous. I have missed the mark most of my life. But they say this one forgives and loves the sinner. He’s not like the religious leaders. I must see this kind of love for myself. Blessed God of Abraham, please forgive me of my shortcomings and help me to go through life doing good not evil.
Dinnertime approaches. I watch from my doorway as the men of the synagogue file toward the Pharisee’s house. They are ceremonially clean and will not defile Simon's house. Other men, women and children look on with curiosity, wondering what these men will hear while they listen to the dinner conversation between Simon and the Teacher.
I must hear what the Teacher says. I know that everyone in the village will shun me if they recognize me and I would never be allowed in the synagogue. This might be my only chance to hear the Master. I quickly put on a man’s cloak, veil my face and slip in with the stream of holy men making their way to the big meeting, I can feel the tension building within. Do they recognize me as a woman or is my garb enough of a disguise?
I can feel my stomach in my throat as I enter the courtyard at Simon's house. So far, no one seems to recognize me because they have not dragged me away. I don't know if the law states that this offense is worthy of stoning. It might be.
An amazing banquet table is set in the middle of a courtyard. Several chaises are arranged all around the table so the guests can reach the food and have their feet furthest from the table as is our custom. Some leaders of the synagogue enter and take their place on all but two of the chaises. Simon enters and reclines on the royal looking seat with its beautiful upholstery and gold inlays. He lies with an arm draped over the inclined side.
The crowd begins to murmur as Jesus enters and takes his place at the last chaise. This seat is not beautiful like the other chaises. Rather like one the servants would use but is so beat up that even they might find it offensive.
Standing here incognito, I notice and ponder that the Teacher's hair and beard look dry. Have they not anointed his head with oil? How could they not pour oil on him to let him refresh himself before eating? Not even the household slaves lack this comfort. And the sun is so hot today that his skin must be parched and uncomfortable.
Simon does not rise to greet his guest with a kiss on the cheek as is the customary greeting for men.
Why is there still sand on Jesus' feet? Would not even the least of Simon’s servants be delighted to wash the feet of the Master? I would count it the honor of a lifetime.
Although Jesus is a guest, the treatment of him would make anyone feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. And the message is obvious that Simon does not consider him to be a great teacher but rather less than his lowliest servant.
How could they treat the Master this way? He should be honored above all. If I were Simon, I would be the one to anoint his head, kiss his cheek and wash his feet. How could these other holy men simply stand here next to the wall around the courtyard and witness this atrocity? By staying at the wall keeping quiet, they are doing the 'proper' thing but not the 'right' thing, choking down the fury, frustration and disappointment that keep welling up.
Before I know it my thoughts become action. I am off the wall and standing behind Jesus at his feet. The crowd begins to murmur.
What is Jesus thinking? Will he have me removed and flogged? Suddenly all of the repressed emotions start spilling out of my eyes as drop after drop begins to wet the Master's unwashed feet. He didn't pull away! At this, emotions explode within me like a violently erupting volcano. Tears flow faster as I watch the drops gather to form muddy puddles and streams on his feet. I take out the comb holding my long locks in place.
The crowd gasps. I can hear them thinking, what is she doing? That’s something a virgin would do on her wedding night! Is she going to lie with him in front of us?
My long hair drapes down as if reaching out to touch the Master. I stoop down and use the strands of my hair to wipe away the dirt and water. He is letting me touch him? The temple leaders never let a 'sinner' touch them. They even walk to the other side of the street to avoid us. In gratitude and love, I lean over and give his foot a tender kiss. Alternating wiping, caressing and kissing, I pull out my alabaster vial of perfume. Once I break it open, all is spent. It doesn't close. As I snap the bottle open, the ‘crack’ resonates off the walls amplifying the sound. The crowd is on edge. Fragrance spills out onto Jesus' feet as I continue my loving devotion.
The scent of the perfume strikes Simon's nostrils like a battering ram. Although he does not utter a sound, he is probably thinking something like, If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is — that she is a sinner.
Jesus answers his thoughts, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” The crowd settles to listen intently.
“Tell me, teacher,” he smirks.
“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”
Simon retorts, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”
“You have judged correctly,” Jesus affirms.
Jesus turns toward me and says to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
Then Jesus acknowledging the love in me states, “Your sins are forgiven.”
The other guests talk among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” That’s not what he said.
Jesus turns to me again, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
The Master is blessing me with eternal peace the kind that only those who pass on from this life receive! A peace that never ends! My sins truly are forgiven and I am free. [Selah – pause and think about that]
~~~
The Teacher is coming to my town. Rumor has it that he will be dining tonight at Simon the Pharisee’s house. Perhaps I will see him walk by on the streets today. What should I wear? I can’t see the Master without wearing my most treasured possession, my precious alabaster vial necklace. I remember how long it took me to save the money to buy it. A year's wages is a lot to spend, but at least I wear the beautiful vial for special occasions. Seeing the Master definitely qualifies as special.
If only I were a man and a regular at the synagogue, I could be a guest and go to hear him speak. I would see this one who everyone is talking about. I know that my ways have not been true and righteous. I have missed the mark most of my life. But they say this one forgives and loves the sinner. He’s not like the religious leaders. I must see this kind of love for myself. Blessed God of Abraham, please forgive me of my shortcomings and help me to go through life doing good not evil.
Dinnertime approaches. I watch from my doorway as the men of the synagogue file toward the Pharisee’s house. They are ceremonially clean and will not defile Simon's house. Other men, women and children look on with curiosity, wondering what these men will hear while they listen to the dinner conversation between Simon and the Teacher.
I must hear what the Teacher says. I know that everyone in the village will shun me if they recognize me and I would never be allowed in the synagogue. This might be my only chance to hear the Master. I quickly put on a man’s cloak, veil my face and slip in with the stream of holy men making their way to the big meeting, I can feel the tension building within. Do they recognize me as a woman or is my garb enough of a disguise?
I can feel my stomach in my throat as I enter the courtyard at Simon's house. So far, no one seems to recognize me because they have not dragged me away. I don't know if the law states that this offense is worthy of stoning. It might be.
An amazing banquet table is set in the middle of a courtyard. Several chaises are arranged all around the table so the guests can reach the food and have their feet furthest from the table as is our custom. Some leaders of the synagogue enter and take their place on all but two of the chaises. Simon enters and reclines on the royal looking seat with its beautiful upholstery and gold inlays. He lies with an arm draped over the inclined side.
The crowd begins to murmur as Jesus enters and takes his place at the last chaise. This seat is not beautiful like the other chaises. Rather like one the servants would use but is so beat up that even they might find it offensive.
Standing here incognito, I notice and ponder that the Teacher's hair and beard look dry. Have they not anointed his head with oil? How could they not pour oil on him to let him refresh himself before eating? Not even the household slaves lack this comfort. And the sun is so hot today that his skin must be parched and uncomfortable.
Simon does not rise to greet his guest with a kiss on the cheek as is the customary greeting for men.
Why is there still sand on Jesus' feet? Would not even the least of Simon’s servants be delighted to wash the feet of the Master? I would count it the honor of a lifetime.
Although Jesus is a guest, the treatment of him would make anyone feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. And the message is obvious that Simon does not consider him to be a great teacher but rather less than his lowliest servant.
How could they treat the Master this way? He should be honored above all. If I were Simon, I would be the one to anoint his head, kiss his cheek and wash his feet. How could these other holy men simply stand here next to the wall around the courtyard and witness this atrocity? By staying at the wall keeping quiet, they are doing the 'proper' thing but not the 'right' thing, choking down the fury, frustration and disappointment that keep welling up.
Before I know it my thoughts become action. I am off the wall and standing behind Jesus at his feet. The crowd begins to murmur.
What is Jesus thinking? Will he have me removed and flogged? Suddenly all of the repressed emotions start spilling out of my eyes as drop after drop begins to wet the Master's unwashed feet. He didn't pull away! At this, emotions explode within me like a violently erupting volcano. Tears flow faster as I watch the drops gather to form muddy puddles and streams on his feet. I take out the comb holding my long locks in place.
The crowd gasps. I can hear them thinking, what is she doing? That’s something a virgin would do on her wedding night! Is she going to lie with him in front of us?
My long hair drapes down as if reaching out to touch the Master. I stoop down and use the strands of my hair to wipe away the dirt and water. He is letting me touch him? The temple leaders never let a 'sinner' touch them. They even walk to the other side of the street to avoid us. In gratitude and love, I lean over and give his foot a tender kiss. Alternating wiping, caressing and kissing, I pull out my alabaster vial of perfume. Once I break it open, all is spent. It doesn't close. As I snap the bottle open, the ‘crack’ resonates off the walls amplifying the sound. The crowd is on edge. Fragrance spills out onto Jesus' feet as I continue my loving devotion.
The scent of the perfume strikes Simon's nostrils like a battering ram. Although he does not utter a sound, he is probably thinking something like, If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is — that she is a sinner.
Jesus answers his thoughts, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” The crowd settles to listen intently.
“Tell me, teacher,” he smirks.
“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”
Simon retorts, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”
“You have judged correctly,” Jesus affirms.
Jesus turns toward me and says to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
Then Jesus acknowledging the love in me states, “Your sins are forgiven.”
The other guests talk among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?” That’s not what he said.
Jesus turns to me again, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
The Master is blessing me with eternal peace the kind that only those who pass on from this life receive! A peace that never ends! My sins truly are forgiven and I am free. [Selah – pause and think about that]