Sermon: Release and Receive

Eagle Harbor Congregational Church                   

June 17, 2007

Luke 7:36-50

Listen to these words from a woman long ago:  Jesus was having dinner at Simon's house.  Simon was an important church leader who had lots of money, a big house, and many servants.  Even though I was not invited to Simon's house, I was determined to see Jesus.  When I arrived at the house, Jesus was sitting and eating with Simon and some other guests.  When I saw Jesus I began to cry.  My tears fell on Jesus' feet.  I was so happy to be with Jesus.  I kissed his feet and wiped them with my hair.  Then I noticed that Jesus' feet were still dusty from the roads.  Usually when you were in someone's home, they welcomed you by washing the dust from your feet.  So, I decided to do that.  I opened my jar of sweet-smelling oil and rubbed the oil on Jesus' feet.  Jesus smiled at me.  But then I heard Simon's angry voice, “This woman is no good.  I did not invite her.  Jesus, you should not allow her to wash your feet.”  Then Jesus looked at Simon and said, “This woman has washed and dried my feet.  She has put sweet-smelling oil on my feet.  You did none of this when I arrived.  This woman has shown great love.”  Then Jesus looked into my eyes and said, “God loves you and forgives you.  Go and live in God's way.”

              There is a lot going on in this story.  You may have heard it before, or a similar story in the book of John when Mary of Bethany is the one who anoints Jesus and Judas is the one shocked by the display.  It is often assumed in the Luke story that the woman is a prostitute, which is possible but not necessarily true.  It is also often assumed that the woman is Mary Magdalene, which is also unfounded.  She is not named.  This woman is not among the honored guests – not even invited to the party.  Yet she is the one who demonstrates grace-filled hospitality to Jesus.    

              I have begun a ritual of walking the Labyrinth at Grace Episcopal Church twice a month following a discussion group.  Labyrinths are meditation tools used by many different faith traditions, and were first used in ancient times.  They are usually a path on the ground that at first glance looks like maze, but have no dead-ends or tricks to them.  It is somewhat of an anti-maze, because there is no possibility of losing your way.  Perfect for someone like me, with no sense of direction.  If you have never seen a labyrinth, then when you leave this morning church be sure to walk out the front door and look to your left.  This past week, I didn't arrive at the entrance of the Labyrinth with a particular thing to pray about, but was looking for a way to focus.  I remembered learning the tradition of using “release” and “receive” for labyrinth walking.  This was so helpful, because instead of my usual mind wandering with a little bit of prayer mixed in, but I truly experienced prayer the entire time.  I began by saying in my mind, I release, and different words would come to mind.  I release anxiety . . . I release, I release.  I release worry . . . I release, I release.  Words came to mind all the way to the center, when I felt light and free and baby Day had blissfully fallen asleep against me.   After I had released, I began to receive.  First I received love, and the image of a well.  It was a bottomless well, reminding me how God fills us, and how this filling of love gives us what I need to love others.  I received several images on that walk, and each one gave me a way of encountering God, and a way to respond to that encounter.  Another image was that of a bubbling brook, signifying peace.  It was not a perfectly still peace; it was a peace amidst the rockiness of life, a peace in motion, reacting and responding from a calm center.  This reminded me that Christ is the source of peace, and when we accept it we are able to act in peace.  I didn't want to leave the Labyrinth that day.  I stood at the exit awhile and let more prayers tumble around in my head before walking out to my car.  Maybe you've been blessed by having a professional massage and you've been shocked when the hour is up.  It may have taken all your will power to pry yourself off the table.  You wish you could stay there all day, basking in the feeling.  But once you drive home you realize you feel lighter and ready to embark on the next part of your day.  That was the feeling I had that afternoon.  Maybe it was the feeling like those in the room that day long ago that witnessed a woman anointing the feet of Jesus.  I hadn't thought before of a labyrinth as a symbol of hospitality, but this experience to me was welcoming, and inspired me to welcome God. 

              Grace-filled hospitality includes releasing and receiving.  Releasing is a freeing from that which confines us, it is a liberation.  It is also a making known, a setting free for others to see.  The unnamed woman released her grief over her sin.  She released any sense of control that she had left.  After releasing, she received Christ in a raw and genuine way. 

              When we release our own anxiety, our own obstacles to the Spirit, we can open to receive Christ and receive others.  In encountering Christ, we are invited to receive on two levels.  Receiving is in one sense about gaining something: we may receive guidance, an idea, or an image.  Receiving is also about welcoming.  In our Christian journey, we are able to welcome Christ, and welcome one another.

                There is a weird thing about this story.  It boils down to “What’s with the hair?”  Common interpretations say that her unbound hair signify that she is likely a prostitute.  That her shocking display is akin to a woman going to a dinner party topless.  This shocking nature to the story makes it very interesting.  But what if this unnamed woman wasn't a prostitute.  She was known as a sinner, to be sure, but maybe she was a sinner who began the evening with her hair tied up.  At some point in hearing Jesus, she let down her hair, released it.  A gesture that was sometimes seen as erotic, yet at other times a display of grief and plea for mercy.  Perhaps she undid her hair in remorse over her sin and to portray her vulnerability.  Although seen as obscenely inappropriate to those at the table, it may have been the most fitting towel she could use to dry the feet of Jesus.  She doesn’t stop there, but also kisses his feet and anoints them with ointment.  One scholar writes, “having a guest's feet anointed with ointment (and not merely washed) was a practice of extravagant hospitality.” Her gestures were a release to and reception of Jesus that were so powerful only wordless motions would do.

              This is a profound story.  What does the feeling of this story remind you of in your life?  It is a receiving Jesus that is raw and real. Not getting cleaned up first, but coming as we are, knowing that we are welcome at the table.  Maybe you feel like this woman.  Feeling broken, feeling vulnerable, wanting intimacy with God, wanting to be made whole.  I feel a real connection with this story.  I think it's because when I try to be in control, things start to unravel.  I think it's because I yearn to be reminded that God makes me whole.

              This woman had the occasion of being with Jesus while he reclined at a table.  How do we approach Jesus with a jar of ointment when he isn’t with us in the flesh? Try a labyrinth walk – figuratively or actually.  One labyrinth facilitator offers this approach: Pause and take a few moments to quiet and calm yourself... take a couple of deep focusing breaths... becoming aware of what is inside... requesting spiritual guidance. . . The walk to the center is a quieting of the mind... opening yourself to receiving an answer or releasing whatever you need to... The walk back out from the center can be seen as returning to one's life... with a new approach toward whatever question or issue you brought into the labyrinth...                                                                                               I spoke with my Dad about this passage – he is preaching on this text this morning in Artesia, California.  He pointed out the often-missed point that most of us are like Simon the Pharisee.  We are not known for our  sins of the flesh, like that of the unnamed woman, but the sins of the spirit, like Simon.  He said that instead of the overt, public sins of the woman, his sin tends to be private, and are more about what he has failed to do.  We don't often come to Jesus in heart-wrenching grief and radical welcome, but in polite piety, and restrained worship.           Do you see this woman?  Jesus asked Simon.  She received me, she welcomed me.  There is a marked difference in how Simon and the woman treat Jesus.  As Pharisees, we maintain the illusion of being in control, and in the process are too self-absorbed to really see the other.  To see Christ, and to see Christ in those around us, we need to get down on our knees and release.                                    Church consultant and author Tony Robinson, in his book Common Grace, talks about the crippling depression he suffered during the early part of his ministry.  Profound healing was facilitated by experiences at three-day silent retreats.  On the first of these experiences, he read from the book of John chapter 15, “I am the vine; you are the branches” and “He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.”  He wondered, “Am I a branch being removed, for that is surely what it felt like, or am I being pruned?  How do you know the difference?”  He realized that he needed to believe that he did not have to earn grace (see Simon the Pharisee), but step aside, give up the illusion that he was in control, and stop trying to be both the branch and the vine.   He had to become like the anointing woman who knew that she didn't have it together.  She knew that to truly receive Jesus she had to release the pain, the grief, and the attempt at control.                                     In preparation for this sermon, I bounced my theme off of a pastor friend who is a certified Labyrinth facilitator.  She offered two more “R”s for our repoirtoire.  These are “remember” and “respond.”  After releasing all that is holding you back and after receiving what God  has waiting for you in your time of meditation, reflect on it. She says, “Can you leave behind all that you released?  How will your encounter with God move and change you?”  In this we remember what Christ has done for us.  Next, “respond to the experience and to the gifts the Divine offered you . . . When we are witness to such incredible love, how can we keep ourselves from responding.”   This is the natural outflow of release and receive.  The unnamed woman remembered what Christ had done for her, and she responded.                                                                                                           Jesus tells us to be like the anointing woman, to release our anxiety, our attempts at control, our grief, or whatever gets in the way of us receiving him.  He tells us to cry tears of mercy; wipe his feet with gratitude, anoint them with welcome.  We are invited to receive Christ, and a new beginning.  When we are willing to receive Christ in a radically open and grace-filled hospitality, we will find ourselves forgiven, filled, and ready to respond.

     This re-telling is found in Seasons of the Spirit curriculum for June 17, 2007.

Charles H. Cosgrove.  “A Woman’s Unbound Hair in the Greco-Roman World, with Special Reference to the Story of the “Sinful” Woman in Luke 7:36-50.  Journal of Biblical Literature, Winter 2005, Page 92.

Vicki Keiser, www.labyrinthonline.com/about.html                                                                               

Anthony B. Robinson.  Common Grace: How to be a Person and Other Spiritual Matters.  Seattle: Sasquatch Books, 2006, p. 26.

Rev. Bobbi Virta, Ferndale United Church of Christ.