The second evening of our General Synod, which finished yesterday afternoon, is always when the synod dinner takes place. This year, a hundred and fifty of us turned up at the Sheraton Hotel in Edinburgh on Thursday evening for the main social occasion of the three-day meeting. We sat at fifteen tables: members of synod together with some guests, the guest of honour this year being The Most Reverend Dr Katherine Jefferts Schori, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church of the United States of America, a part of the Anglican Communion with which the Scottish Episcopal Church has particular links, not least historical.
Although not a public event, we were observed, as we gathered, by a number of variously curious members of the public - hotel guests and others - who peered at this noisy throng, many of whom were in clerical dress. Now, I mention the fact that the synod dinner was not a public event because the dinner which features in this morning's gospel reading was, in some ways, just that.
On grand occasions, it seems, well-to-do Jews adopted Roman practices, among them that of reclining to eat. Unlike those present at the Sheraton Hotel last Thursday evening, those present in the house of Simon the Pharisee reclined, facing into the central area where the food was served. The custom of the time was that anyone could come and watch the meal, though these uninvited guests stayed outside the boundary marked by the feet of the invited guests.
So, it was not worthy of note that a woman in the city, who was a sinner might appear at such a dinner. However, what was worthy of note to the assembled company, Simon the Pharisee chief among them, was that Jesus should allow the actions taken by this woman: the bathing of his feet with her tears, then the drying of them with her hair, then the anointing of them with the ointment she had brought in her alabaster jar.
Simon the Pharisee may have said to himself what he thought about this - indeed, what he thought about Jesus - but Jesus knew what was in his heart and on his mind. In the same way that Nathan rebuked David in this morning's first reading, Jesus rebuked Simon by telling a story: a story about two debtors and a forgiving creditor.
While David rages about the injustice done to the poor man by the rich man in Nathan's tale, Simon has to admit the truth, however reluctantly, or appear a fool. Love is shown in the way that people act. Just as Nathan was applying his story to King David, so Jesus was applying his to Simon the Pharisee. How he must have squirmed on his couch.
Simon is shown up for being a poor host. The woman, on the other hand, has made up for his sins. The actions of both Simon and the woman reveal what is in the heart of each. One feels superior to Jesus, the other feels accepted by Jesus. Released by love, the woman can show a proper kind of love. Both this passage and the first reading contain messages about judgement and forgiveness.
The reading from the Second Book of Samuel involves a terrible abuse of power as well as the breaking of obvious commandments: adultery and murder. It is a salutary tale involving a prophet who, though fearing for his life, was nevertheless willing to obey God and challenge a powerful ruler. Nathan does this with his inspired story which has a devastating effect on King David.
Nevertheless, the judgement on King David is an uncomfortable one. David admits his sin; David is assured that the Lord has put away [his] sin; David will live but the child that is born to [him] will die.
Now, however we react to the Lord's judgement, it is clear that we may reap terrible consequences when we betray those we love, when we want things or people we cannot or should not have. However repentant we might be, however much we put right what we have done - so far as we are able - we may have to bear the consequences for the rest of our lives.
And if we turn to today's second reading, we find Paul also addressing the question of sin. Popular Jewish theology of the time regarded the Gentiles as, by definition, sinners. Any Jew who flagrantly transgressed the Law was relegated to the same category. The same accusation was presumably made against Jews who had become Christians and were now committing such unlawful acts as sharing meals with Gentiles. Remember this: the Eucharist was a common meal.
When Paul was writing his letter to the Galatians, there was a background of division in the Church. The Church began in Jerusalem; the first Christians were Jews who followed - to a greater or lesser extent - the Law of Moses with all its rules and regulations, its requirements and its prohibitions. In Jerusalem, any Gentile who wished to become a Christian had to first become a Jew and adhere to the Law of Moses.
But the Church was not the same everywhere. In Antioch, for example, deep in Gentile territory, where the church was started by Paul, things were different. In Antioch, they didn't do things the way they were done in Jerusalem. In Antioch, Gentile converts did not have to become Jews and Jewish Christians ignored the regulations governing meals. Jewish and Gentile Christians ate together, shared the Eucharist together.
We should not underestimate this issue: at the time, it was a big deal. In fact, the credentials needed to share the Eucharist was the first big cause of division in the Church. Then, the question was: who belongs at the Lord's table? What credentials were needed for an invitation?
Nothing very much has changed: the Church was divided then; the Church is divided now. This morning in Southwark Cathedral, Bishop Katherine, who shared our meal in Edinburgh on Thursday, will preside and preach at their Eucharist. Not everyone in the Church of England is happy that such an invitation was extended to her. Not because she is a woman or a bishop, though both things will be the source of unhappiness for some. On this occasion, the unhappiness is caused by divisions that exist in the Anglican Communion; divisions caused by differences over issues of human sexuality and the intervention of bishops across provincial boundaries; divisions which have led to the Archbishop of Canterbury planning to impose sanctions on the Episcopal Church of the United States.
The proposed sanctions will include the removal of certain decision-making powers and the withdrawal of invitations to share the table at ecumenical dialogues. The proposals are the cause of much distress, not just on Bishop Katherine's side of the Atlantic, but in other parts of the Communion too. Surely more can be achieved by sitting at table, sharing a meal, talking and listening to one another, than by excluding and taking up adversarial positions?
This is not the model of relationship given to us by Jesus. In the present chapter of Luke alone, think of his willingness to go to the centurion's house. In last Sunday's gospel, think of his compassion for the widow of Nain in both word and deed. And here, think of his sensitive and compassionate handling of the forgiven woman in a situation that could have led to her humiliation.
Credentials do not matter when it comes to sharing the table with the Lord: no one is worthy, no one is good enough. To rely on your own strength, your own worthiness, your own credentials-especially that perverted form of self-righteousness that says, "at least I'm not as bad as she is," is not only to court Jesus' anger, but to guarantee it.
The reason a notorious sinner is closer to the kingdom of God than a Pharisee is not that it is morally better to be a notorious sinner. It is not-it's almost always morally worse. But a notorious sinner may well be closer to God because she is less likely to hide from God and the truth behind a wall of self-righteousness and silly credentials.
To claim, by virtue of good behaviour or anything else, the right to God's presence and God's favour - and the attendant right to judge whether others so belong - this is so fundamentally to misunderstand the Gospel, and ourselves, as to separate us firmly from God. No one is worthy. No one has earned a single thing from God; and to pretend otherwise guarantees judgement.
Everyone is invited. It really does not matter, finally, who we are. The source of our lives, the basis for our invitation into God's presence, is God's loving grace and forgiveness, nothing else. And to rely on anything else is to lose it all. The gift to us of God's love is absolutely unearned, totally without merit, and given freely to all. When Paul says, "no one shall be justified by works of the law," he means just that - there is nothing we can do, there is nothing we have done - that earns us God's favour.
Instead, God's love for us is absolute, total, unconditional and free. We cannot work our way into that love, we cannot sin our way out of it. We live by grace and forgiveness. Our lives as Christians are not about somehow managing to get loved or saved or accepted by God. We have that; we are given that, we begin with that. Our lives as Christians are about responding to the gifts we have been given.
Since all are unworthy, including ourselves, we don't have to worry about that or spend a lot of energy on it. It doesn't really matter. Everyone is invited; everyone is offered the gifts of grace and forgiveness. That is how we begin. Then, we are called to take those gifts, accept them, and share them with a world dying for that Good News. Jesus says to each of us what he said to the woman in the story: "Your faith has saved you, go in peace."And he calls us to hear that, to believe that, to live that, and to share that.
Sermon by: Jonathan Mason