June 12, 2016
Text: Luke 7:36-8:3
This morning’s Gospel lesson shows us once again how fond Jesus seems to be of “dislocation,” how he accepts dislocating situations and people as teaching and learning opportunities. I don’t know about you, but I prefer my familiar cozy nests, where I can be alone with a good book at the end of a long day. I think God’s okay with that, within limits, but I also think God has much more in mind for me. To become ourselves, as much of ourselves as we can become before we die—trusting God more today than we did yesterday—we will need to be, again and again, bounced out of our nest of familiar. We will only be truly at home when we find that our true home is not in a comfortable and familiar location, or dependent upon certain elements or people, but is actually found in DISlocation, merging into challenging situations with people different from ourselves who have questionable opinions and annoying habits. These are the people and situations most likely to reveal something new that will help me to grow.
Jesus does not accept a dinner invitation to a Pharisee’s home because he’s looking for a casual evening within his comfort zone. He knows how some Pharisees can be—pretentious and critical and self-righteous. He’d probably prefer hanging out with his friends. But he dislocates himself and discovers in Simon a different kind of Pharisee. Simon is not calculating and stand-offish. He does not critique the manners and viewpoints of his guests—in fact, he doesn’t even follow some of the most standard rituals like washing his guests’ feet. Even more startling, he leaves the front door open, allowing even the uninvited to enter. He literally “opens the door” to the unknown, to the likelihood of being dislocated inside his own home, welcoming both Jesus and anyone else who wanders in. We need to be careful about thinking we already know about the Pharisees. It turns out they are simply like the rest of us—sometimes judgmental and critical, yet also curious and open and willing to be disturbed. They are in process, as are we all.
Generally speaking, when people today are asked what they think about Jesus, regardless of their religious or non-religious affiliations, they say they have absolutely no problem with him. Great guy. Pretty much everyone loves Jesus. But Jesus does not travel alone. To get to know him is to get to know a whole passel of his friends, too. A woman from the city who has been following Jesus, watching him, staying close to him, now wanders in to Simon’s party. We aren’t told much about her, only that she is a sinner, the common denominator of us all. Imagine yourself at this dinner party, coming in because the door is open, not because you’ve been invited. Will you find a hidden spot against the wall to watch what happens, or like her, are you so enthusiastic about Jesus that you head straight to him and, not caring who is watching and what others will say, make a scene? What would it be like to have that kind of passion for someone or some group or some calling that we would give all we have to express it? She has a jar of very expensive ointment and breaks it open and pours it out on his feet, even though “reasonable people” know it is meant to be saved for anointing a body after death. She starts to cry and the ointment mixes with her tears, and her hair, which isn’t covered properly, falls down over his feet—and in a sort of big, sloppy, tearful, messy, emotional display, she washes his feet. Not only washes them, but kisses them. Can you imagine how such a lavish outpouring of passion would have shocked and offended the others, and even more shocking is that Jesus doesn’t stop her but seems to enjoy it thoroughly. He doesn’t even say, “Oh, hon, get up off the floor. Don’t demean yourself.” No, he defends her. He understands that giving lavishly opens us to receiving lavishly. She is showing everyone who God is.
What sort of woman is she? And what sort of “prophet” is Jesus, Simon wonders, to openly enjoy this sensual act? He isn’t austere, shouting judgment and truth. Too often we try to label people and experiences so we can put them into familiar categories. This is how we “make sense” of them without having to stretch our minds, which is another kind of dislocation that we try to avoid as much as we can. Putting labels on people and situations and placing them in proper order on a shelf in our minds is one of the ways we try to hoard the precious ointment of life instead of pouring it out lavishly whenever we are moved to do so. Not waiting for death, but fully giving and receiving right now. But if we give ourselves lavishly to each other, things can get messy. Misunderstandings and fear can rise up; selfish motives can block love’s flow. We might want to give ourselves fully to the way of Jesus. We might want to pour ourselves out in passionate devotion, but we also want to keep life orderly and calm. We don’t want to disturb too many people; we want to know what to expect of each other. The trouble is, is that the kind of party Jesus will want to attend, where the primary focus is on good order and the doors are locked to keep disruption away? Is it the kind of party we want our lives to be? That’s the key question: Do we really want to be on the way of Jesus, to let his way of being and doing life disrupt us and dislocate us from our established patterns of behavior?
It’s a question to ask ourselves again and again. As soon as we think we’re on the way of Jesus, and we begin to settle down into that way, we should expect to be shaken out of it again. There is no GPS for following Jesus; we will not be given a set of instructions with a friendly voice telling us each turn to take. We will never have all the right answers. Even after all due diligence and close inspection, do we really know which banks deserve to hold our money? Which ones have pure motives and make only wise investments? Can we say with assurance which modes of transportation are above reproach? Or how much stuff is too much stuff? And if I decide to part with some of it, how much can I throw out? A young woman who just graduated with a degree in environmental studies from NYU decided to try to accumulate as little waste as possible. Over three years, all of her household waste—ALL of it—fit into a single 16-ounce jar! As soon as I read about this, I felt dislocated, booted out of the illusion that I am doing pretty well with one small shopping bag a week.
I don’t mean to make light of following Jesus, insinuating that it’s only about making educated economic and ecological choices, as in, “Reduce your carbon footprint and you, too, will be a follower of Jesus….” I’m just trying to say that if we are on the way of Jesus, we are on the way of disruption. Our assumptions and behaviors will be challenged, in every area of life. How I approach all the big and small dilemmas of my life, how I view the political and the personal, the language I use and the activities I support, whether or not I run from a situation or run toward a situation will be influenced, not by my having researched the right answers ahead of time, but by being awake enough right now to see and listen and respond.
Only when we see and listen to each other as though we are brand new people, not as we once were or as we often tend to be, are we able to be on an authentic journey with each other. Simon is a Pharisee, yes, but right now he isn’t worried about keeping all the rules—he opens his doors and lets the outsiders in. The woman from the streets doesn’t get invited to most Pharisees’ parties. But right now she senses she has a place there and an important offering to give. Because they are awake to the current moment and not stuck in the rut of old assumptions and behavior patterns, they are free to be themselves, and more of God’s love and forgiveness can be given.
We tend to look at people and situations and register them in degrees of deficit. What more is needed here—how could this person have a better life, what more could our church be doing, how could this or that situation in our world be improved? This fits nicely with our urge to fix things. Let me tell you what you should do … or what ‘they’ should do … or what ‘needs to happen’…. We absolutely love saying this in some version or other, especially if we are not the ones who will have to roll up our sleeves and do any of the work! The problem is, Jesus didn’t say, “Fix one another.” He said: “LOVE one another.” Fixing one another requires one person having an answer and the other person being submissive to that answer. LOVING one another requires being with each other, letting each other be in process, sticking around when things get difficult, not knowing for sure how to make anything better but listening for the way forward and taking steps into that unknown future together.
Simon the Pharisee would never again be able to see women off the streets with the same critical eye, and this woman would never again be able to judge all Pharisees as self-righteous and exclusionary. Because of their encounter—and with Jesus the bridge between them—they are now companions, interconnected in a way they would have never dreamed. They are in the same tribe now, even though they are as different as they will always be. Each of them has expanded the consciousness of the other, and their minds will never return to their earlier dimensions. This is the ultimate dislocation—the healing disruption of our usual ways of thinking so that we might begin to hear and see each other, and then perhaps to respect and even love each other, letting God do a new thing in the space between us. What kinds of parties will we be hosting, what kinds of spaces will we create, for these kinds of encounters to happen? What doors will we need to unlock so that even those we forget to invite will find their way in?