A letter to the brave woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears
“A Pharisee invited him to dine with him, and he entered the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table. Now there was a sinful woman in the city who learned that he was at table in the house of the Pharisee. Bringing an alabaster flask of ointment, she stood behind him at his feet weeping and began to bathe his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the ointment.” Luke 7:36-38
Dear Brave Woman,
I have read your story repeatedly, over many years, and I continue to be amazed by your actions. You knew that you were not welcome in the house of Simon the Pharisee. You knew what he thought of you, that you were “human trash,” and not worthy to step into his home. In fact, you believed these things about yourself as well. You internalized the judgments of proper society and agreed with their judgment: that you were a “sinful woman.” Yet, you did something absurd. You crashed a dinner party without considering the consequences, because you were sure that there was one person present, Jesus, who would not reject you. You knew that he would not misunderstand your actions.
How did you know this? You had not met him before. How had you come to know that Jesus would receive your tears and tender touches with compassion and humility?
I am assuming from the story that you lived a life of hurt and sorrow inflicted by the hands of men. Childhood physical and sexual abuse are epidemic in my century. Was it the same in yours? Did you suffer trauma at an early age and then never knew how to feel safe and secure in the world? Did you act out, seeking security and love in the only way you knew: by offering yourself to men? You fell into the trap of being trafficked for the sexual pleasure of men. That’s what the Scriptures imply with your description as “a sinful woman.” You were trapped between the misuse and abuse from men of the world and the scorn and judgment from men of faith.
But in Jesus you found someone different. Somehow, as you learned about him, as you learned from others how he interacted with tax collectors, prostitutes, and other public sinners, you understood that he came as a friend, not as a judge.
However you came to know about Jesus, you grasped his radical message. Before you ever met him, you came to understand that God didn’t hate sinners. In fact, the opposite was true: God fully understands the pain and suffering that is so often behind a person’s self-destructive behavior. God comes to the sinner with infinite mercy and forgiveness. You followed Jesus from a distance, and his words melted your heart, melted your self-judgment, and revealed to you your deepest truth: that you are God’s beloved daughter! And nothing you have done, no sin, no self-condemnation, no self-harm, no addiction, can change that. Jesus brought to you the infinite love and mercy of God, and you were overwhelmed with gratitude.
When you learned that he was at the house of Simon the Pharisee, you could not help yourself. Your gratitude for what Jesus had done for you burst forth in tears that washed his feet and kisses that covered them with love. You did what few people ever did: you surprised Jesus, and he was amazed at your extravagant display of affection. When he spoke to Simon, he compared Simon’s lack of hospitality with your generosity:
“Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has bathed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with ointment. So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” Luke 7:44-47
I do not know your name, but I ask you, Brave Woman, to pray for me that I can be like you and allow the forgiveness of God to free me so that I, too, can shower Jesus and others, with “great love.”
Sincerely,
A sinner struggling to be a saint
Robert! That was an amazingly profound meditation on the woman bathing Jesus feet in tears.
Thank you so much!
Amy