But one of the Pharisees begged him that he would eat with him. And entering into the house of the Pharisee he took his place at table;
Simon's word for asking was no casual invitation.
When Simon asked the Lord into his house, he used a strong word. It is the same word the Lord used in John 17 when He prayed to the Father. It is a definite request from someone in a position to make a demand. Yet in wonderful grace the Lord agreed.
Christ was not walking in blind. He knew the men He was sitting down with, and He went anyway.
The Lord fully knew the pride that was in the Pharisees' hearts. He knew that they loved the places of honour. He knew that Simon was after some popularity, and at the same time hoped to show how little the Lord counted in his eyes. The Lord knew all that. In infinite grace He still took the place offered Him, so that He might bring the compassions of God to this poor woman.
A Pharisee's dining room is the last place you would expect to find mercy. That setting is part of the point.
The place where Jesus showed Himself to be the Friend of sinners was the Pharisee's house. A strange and unwelcoming place for it, we might think. But that background of pride and criticism only made the Saviour's grace shine out all the brighter. This man may have thought himself very important when he took this prophet from Nazareth under his wing. We can easily imagine how proudly he looked at the crowd when the Lord accepted his invitation. He little knew that his humble Guest was the One really arranging that feast. Christ was spreading another feast, and thousands have fed at it since.
Simon's interest in Jesus was genuine, but it stopped short of need.
The Pharisee had a certain respect for someone with the reputation of being a prophet, or a teacher sent from God. Religious people in our day are much the same. Jesus was therefore an object of interest to him, though he did not know Him as the Son of God, the Saviour of sinners. It is sad how many seem to make the Lord, or even the Bible, a matter of interest instead of a matter of salvation. The Pharisee had invited the Lord to eat with him, and since He came not to judge the world but to save, He went.
The dinner is not a stray story. It comes right after the Lord's saying about wisdom and her children.
God sent John the Baptist in a hard and separated way of life, cut off even from ordinary food — and they slandered him. God sent the Son of Man in the way of the closest love — and they mocked and insulted Him too. The one was too strict, the other too free… But the Lord adds, "Wisdom is justified by all her children." Then the Spirit adds the beautiful story that illustrates it. The woman who was a sinner is the opposite of that unwise generation, and she enters the family of Wisdom.
In Luke, Christ is often a guest at someone's table. This scene shows what really brings a person to Him.
For our Lord, in this Gospel, is above all the social One — social as a Man, so that He could talk with people. So we find Him here, more often than in the other Gospels, seated at table in the houses of others, whoever they may be. There He could find the mind relaxed and free to show itself. This scene in the Pharisee's house has great moral value. It shows us that nothing truly brings us to Jesus but our sins. Admiring Him as a Teacher, or as a worker of miracles, will never put us in His path as God counts it. Only sin, and the sense of it, can really introduce us to the Son of God, for He is a Saviour.
Once the door closes, the room becomes a study in contrasts.
I will not go again into the three hearts that open up in Luke 7:36 to the end of the chapter. There is the Pharisee's heart, the sinner's heart looking to Christ, and — blessed be His grace and name — God's own heart. Light and love were there. Simon knew neither of them at all; he was blind, and thought he could see.
- Invited. Simon's request was a demand from a man who thought he was doing Jesus a favour.
- Accepted. Christ went in with full knowledge of the pride waiting for Him — that acceptance was itself grace.
- Staged. The proud, critical house became the perfect backdrop for mercy to shine.
- Placed. Luke sets the dinner right after "wisdom is justified by all her children." The woman who was a sinner proves that saying true.
- Exposed. Three hearts meet at that table: a blind host, a sinner whose sins brought her to Christ, and the heart of God revealed in Christ.
and behold, a woman in the city, who was a sinner, and knew that he was sitting at meat in the house of the Pharisee, having taken an alabaster box of myrrh,
A woman known around town for her sinful life hears that Jesus is eating at a Pharisee's house. She walks in uninvited, carrying a flask of perfume. Two questions drive the verse: what made her risk that room, and what made her bring that gift?
The description is not a general statement that everyone sins. It marks her out publicly, and it makes her arrival in that house shocking.
Simon the Pharisee invited the Lord to his house. No doubt he thought he was being generous. But while the Lord and the other guests were there, a stranger came in — "a woman of the city, who was a sinner." Those words are strong enough. They do not mean a sinner in the ordinary, broad sense that we have all sinned. They mean the particular kind that made this woman notorious in the town, and everybody knows what that is. What drew her? Jesus, nothing but Jesus.
Writers note there is nothing in the text to support the common idea that this woman was Mary Magdalene.
Simon the Pharisee, who invited the Lord to his house, where a woman "who was a sinner" anointed the feet of the Lord... There is nothing to support the idea that this woman was Mary Magdalene.
A Pharisee's table was the last place a woman like her could expect mercy.
She is a sinner, and she knows it. Yet knowing it does not hold her back. It makes her bold to be there, in the one place where she might expect the harshest judgment of all. But His shield will be over her — the Friend of sinners. How different that name sounds to her, and to the Pharisee whose house she has entered!
One Person changed what that house meant to her.
What a wonderful attraction there was in Him for sinners! We can be sure a Pharisee's house was the very last place she would have gone near. But if He is there, the place changes its character at once.
The word translated "ointment" can mislead. It was not medicine for a wound but a costly perfume. One commentator also notes what Luke says: she brought it, rather than buying it for the occasion.
We are told that she brought with her an alabaster box or flask of ointment. It is better to say perfume, because when people hear "ointment" many think of something for a wound or a sore. This was a costly perfume, fit for a king. But unhappy women who live by their shameless trade often spend lavishly on their faces to make themselves attractive. The text does not say she bought the perfume for this occasion; it says she "brought" it. One can hardly doubt that she had bought it for her own purposes. Now everything was changed. It was the most precious thing she had in the world, and so she brought it with a full heart for Jesus.
The verse also tells us she arrived with a plan already formed, and that plan was unusual.
Verse 37 tells us that she came intending to anoint Him; that was clearly her purpose... But it was unusual to anoint the feet, for people usually gave this honour to the head.
She came before she knew she was forgiven. Her conscience was awake to her sin, and her heart trusted Him.
The light and the love of God had reached into her soul. She did not yet know what it was to be pardoned, but her heart trusted Jesus. At the same time her conscience felt the deep conviction of sin.
The scene is built as a contrast. Both host and visitor are in the parable Jesus is about to tell.
In this house of Simon the Pharisee, the Lord meets two people who represent two moral generations: His host, and a sinner of the city. These two are the two debtors in the parable the Lord tells on this occasion, a parable set right at the heart of the story.
Her act should have stopped the room, because it fits no one else.
Such a sight should have amazed the Pharisee and made him wonder why anyone would do so unusual a thing. Could we imagine anyone doing this to another person? No indeed! To do it to anyone else would be idolatry. Only Christ is worthy of such tears of repentance and such humble adoration — no created being is.
- Named — "A sinner" is not a general truth about everyone. It marks her as notorious in the town, and that is who walks in.
- Drawn — Christ alone pulled her through that door. Where He is, even a Pharisee's house changes character.
- Bold — Knowing her own guilt did not keep her away; it carried her into the room most likely to condemn her.
- Given — She brought the costliest thing she owned — bought, most likely, for her old life — and gave it to Him with a full heart.
- Contrasted — Host and visitor become the two debtors of the parable; only Christ is worthy of what she did.
and standing at his feet behind [him] weeping, began to wash his feet with tears; and she wiped them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed [them] with the myrrh.
A woman known across the city as a sinner walks uninvited into a Pharisee's dining room and takes the place behind Jesus. She says nothing — her tears, her hair, her kisses and her ointment speak for her.
The scene makes sense once you picture how people ate.
They did not sit on chairs as we do. At meals they lay on couches, with their feet stretched out behind them. So the woman could reach Christ's feet. They were on the outside, within her reach, as He lay at the table. She did not only weep. She "began to wet His feet with her tears." Who would have thought of this? Only a woman who felt deeply, and who was changed from all her old ways. She also wiped His feet with the hairs of her head. How often those hairs had been like nets to catch loose and foolish men — now they were used to wipe the feet of Jesus.
Simon gave his guest no place of honour. One writer sees that slight working in her favour.
Suppose He had been given the head of the table, at the Pharisee's right hand. Then her courage would have failed her at the doorway, and she would probably not have reached Him that day. But He was so near to her. She had only to stretch out her hand and touch Him; she had only to take one step to be at His feet. So the Pharisee's disdain put the Saviour within reach of the sinner.
She had no invitation and no introduction, yet nothing in her behaviour is out of place.
Faith makes a soul very bold; at the same time it gives great propriety. But its boldness is inspired by the attractive power of the Object looked to. It is from no qualities of our own... She did not ask Peter or James or John or any of them to bring her to Jesus. She went at once. It was not only her own deep sense of need. It was her sense of His indescribable grace — the grace of Jesus. That gave her entry at once, and introduced her without any further formality.
How much weeping does it take to wet a man's feet?
Her tears must have been many. A few burning tears could not wash a man's feet. She did not stop washing His feet with her tears. Those tears of repentance flowed freely onto the feet of Christ — those beautiful feet, those precious feet.
Commentators differ on what drew them out. One writer denies that repentance was the cause:
The passage does not state why she was weeping. As the context makes perfectly clear, these were not tears of repentance. Thoughts of regret about her past sinful life did have a place in her heart. But it was His goodness and grace that overwhelmed her with gratitude.
Everything she brought, she spent — and it still fell short of what He deserved.
There she is with her tears, not all of sorrow — to wash His feet; her hair (a woman's glory) brought low — but was it really brought low? — to wipe them; her box of precious ointment to anoint them with. It was all far too little for Him. All her wealth could rise no higher than His feet. But He had come so far to win man's heart to God. He valued and acknowledged the gift of love, and He accepted the giver and defended her.
The word behind "kissed" means she "covered [His feet] with kisses."
This woman is often confused with Mary of Bethany, who also anointed Jesus. The order of the actions keeps them apart.
The woman of Luke 7 first washes the feet of Jesus with her tears of sorrow. Then she wipes them with her hair. After the wiping she anoints His feet with the ointment. There is no word of Mary washing the feet of Jesus with tears... Mary first anoints the feet of Jesus, and wipes His anointed feet, not His washed feet.
Done to anyone else, this would be intolerable.
This sight should have amazed the Pharisee. It should have made him wonder why anyone would do such a unique thing. Could we imagine this done to any other person? No indeed! To do it to anyone else would be idolatry. Only Christ is worthy of such tears of repentance and such lowly adoration from any created being.
- Grace draws. Her nerve was not self-confidence. The One she came to drew her, and she needed no introduction and no invitation.
- Grace reaches. He lay in the lowest place, His feet a step from the doorway where she stood. Simon's slight put the Saviour within her reach.
- Grace turns. Hair that once caught foolish men now wiped His feet. Her tears fell freely — commentators differ over whether sorrow or gratitude moved them.
- Grace costs. She spent her tears, her glory and her ointment. It was all still too little — yet He valued the gift and defended the giver.
- Grace is for Him alone. Poured out on anyone else, this would be idolatry. Only Christ is worthy of such tears and such lowly adoration.
And the Pharisee who had invited him, seeing it, spoke with himself saying, This [person] if he were a prophet would have known who and what the woman is who touches him, for she is a sinner.
Simon invites Jesus to his table. A woman known in the town as a sinner comes in and touches His feet, and Simon reaches a private verdict — not about her, but about his guest. His silent "if this man were a prophet" turns the scene into a test of who knows the human heart.
Simon says nothing aloud. He reasons inside himself, and one writer names what that reasoning amounts to.
This drew out the religious reasoning of Simon's heart, which, like all other reasoning of the natural mind on divine things, is only unbelief. He said to himself, "If this man were a prophet." How hollow the fine-looking Pharisee was! He had invited the Lord there; but what was the Lord worth in Simon's eyes? ... Indeed, she was a sinner. That was not the wrong thing; this was. The root of the worst wrong is just that low estimate of Jesus.
Simon reasons like this: a sinner is touching Him, so He cannot know who she is. One writer shows where that reasoning fails.
His thought was that being a sinner would make her unfit for Jesus. Yet he had no real idea of the glory of Jesus, or of His holiness, or of His grace. He would not even allow Him to be a prophet... Simon knew the woman was a sinner. It was common knowledge in the town. Simon could not imagine that Jesus would let her take such a liberty with His person if He knew her character. But Jesus knew her thoroughly, as well as Simon did; and if she was a sinner, He was a Saviour. Sadly, the Pharisee neither felt the sin nor saw the Saviour as God sees them. This kind of religion tries to take a middle position between a sinner and a Saviour, and so ignores both the misery of the one and the grace of the other.
Simon judges by what he himself would have done. That standard leaves him with three hearts in the room and knowledge of none of them.
The legal man set out to judge, by human ability, whether the Lord — this Preacher going about the country — was really a prophet. But he judged by human righteousness: what a man should be for God, and only in an outward way. His own heart, God's heart and light, and even this poor woman's heart were all unknown to him. Light and love, light and conscience, and love in the heart — that is, God — were all wholly unknown to him. God was in his house, in light, as He showed, and in love. Simon never found it out. He despised Him. He had no courtesies for Him. He judged from his own heart: since the Lord was not like it, He could be no prophet.
Others who saw Jesus had already gone further than Simon.
Verse 16 has shown us that the common people at least thought He was a prophet, and a great one; Simon had not got as far as that. They had a glimmer of light; he was totally blind, for false religion is the most blinding thing on earth.
Simon's word "touching" carries a fear: contact with such a woman must spread defilement.
The poor sinner of Luke 7 touched the holy feet of the Lord Jesus, but His feet were not defiled. Instead, the touch affected the heart of the poor sinner. And the Lord could say to her, "Your sins are forgiven... Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
Simon's charge was that Jesus did not know. Jesus replied to the sentence Simon never spoke.
The Lord proved that He was a prophet and infinitely more than a prophet. He read the man's heart as well as the woman's, and, more than that, He revealed God's love. Simon did not utter a word, but thought his evil saying within himself. Then Jesus answered — that is, He answered the unspoken judgment of Simon's mind: "Simon, I have something to say to you."
Another writer pictures the room before Jesus spoke.
No one had spoken a word since the woman came in and began her series of actions... Then at last Jesus "answered." He revealed Himself to be not only a prophet of the Lord, but the Lord Himself, who had come now not to judge, but in grace to save.
- Knowing, doubted. Simon's silent "if" rates Jesus low. Writers put the root of his error in his view of his guest, not in his view of the woman.
- Knowing, assumed. He assumed that a sinner had no place near Jesus. But if she was a sinner, He was a Saviour.
- Knowing, refused. He judged God's heart by his own, and so missed light and love standing in his own house; the crowd had a glimmer, he had none.
- Knowing, reversed. The touch he feared did not stain the Lord's feet. It reached the sinner's heart, and she heard, "Your sins are forgiven."
- Knowing, proved. Jesus answered the sentence Simon never spoke aloud. He showed Himself a prophet and more: the Lord who came not to judge but to save.
And Jesus answering said to him, Simon, I have somewhat to say to thee. And he says, Teacher, say [it].
A woman with a bad reputation is weeping over Jesus' feet, and Simon the host has quietly decided that his guest is no prophet. Then Jesus speaks — not to the woman, but to the man who said nothing.
Luke says Jesus "answered," though nobody had asked Him anything. One writer sets the scene to show why that word fits.
The word "answer" is used here though no formal question comes before it. You have to picture the scene to feel how tense it was. Nobody had spoken a word since the woman came in and began her series of actions. Surprise probably gave way to strain. The tension grew as the guests at the table turned their eyes more and more from the woman to the Lord Jesus. The long silence would increase the tension even more. Then at last Jesus "answered." He turned straight to Simon and showed that He read the very thoughts in His host's heart. He answered his thoughts and doubts, and so showed that He knew all about the woman as well. He had perfect insight into the human heart. He revealed Himself to be not only a prophet of the Lord, but the Lord Himself, who had come now not to judge, but in grace to save.
On the surface, Simon's verdict was about the woman. Underneath, it was a verdict on the guest at his table.
This drew out the religious reasoning of Simon's heart. Like all other reasoning of the natural mind about divine things, it is only unbelief. "He said to himself, 'If this man were a prophet.'" How hollow the fine-looking Pharisee was! He had invited the Lord there; but what was the Lord worth in Simon's eyes? … The root of the worst wrong is exactly that low view of Jesus. Simon doubted within himself that He was even a prophet. How little he thought that this was God Himself in the person of that lowly man, the Son of the Most High!
The same writer shows what reading Simon's thoughts proved.
Jesus, however, proves that He was a prophet — yes, the God of the prophets. Reading the thoughts of his heart, He answers his unspoken question with the parable of the two debtors.
With Simon He uses his name and reasons with him. Jesus did not treat every Pharisee the same way.
All Pharisees were not the same! Some were pleasant, some were dull-witted. Some were led, and some were leading. But Christ told them apart… You will not find that He treats Simon, in Luke 7, in the same way. He knew there was a different pulse in him. There was no sharp, stern rebuke, but, "Come, let us reason together." "Simon, I have something to say to you." Do not blunder your way through society. Carry the balances of God with you.
Simon's reply is polite. It also expects nothing.
Simon did not think He was a prophet now, for though he lets Him speak, he does not expect an authoritative word from Him. How gracious the Lord is to Simon. … Perhaps the Pharisee had invited the Lord Jesus for one reason. He hoped to find something that would fully prove to his mind that the Lord was only a pretender. When the woman came and did what she did, he had what he wanted — evidence that cast doubt on the person of the Lord Jesus. But now everything suddenly turns upside down.
What Jesus had to say was not a defence of the woman. It was a bill addressed to Simon.
Simon only "said to himself." He thought Jesus had no discernment about the woman. The Lord at once showed him that He knew his hypocrisy and read his secret thoughts. He did it by putting to him the parable of the two debtors. One debtor was in debt ten times deeper than the other. Yet neither had any assets, so both were equally bankrupt. And the creditor treated them alike; there was forgiving mercy for both. This parable was meant to bring one thing home to Simon. His sins might be fewer than the woman's, but he too was completely insolvent. He needed forgiving mercy just as she did.
- Unspoken. Simon never opened his mouth, yet Jesus "answered" him. Christ heard his thoughts as plainly as speech.
- Unmasked. The doubt was not truly about the woman. It was a low view of Jesus, and that is unbelief.
- Undeniable. Reading Simon's thoughts settled the question Simon was asking inside himself. Jesus is a prophet — and the God of the prophets.
- Unhurried. He does not thunder at Simon. He speaks his name, asks leave, and reasons. Weigh each person; do not handle everyone the same way.
- Unpayable. The gentle opening leads to a bill. Simon's smaller debt was still a debt he could not pay. He needed the same mercy as the woman at Jesus' feet.
There were two debtors of a certain creditor one owed five hundred denarii and the other fifty;
Jesus is at dinner in Simon the Pharisee's house when a woman known in town as a sinner weeps at His feet. Simon judges her without a word, and the Lord answers with a story about a lender and two debtors.
Simon says nothing out loud. The parable is the Lord's response to what was going on inside him.
Simon only "spoke within himself." He thought that Jesus had no discernment about the woman. At once the Lord showed him that He knew his hypocrisy and read his secret thoughts. He did it by putting to him the parable of the two debtors. One debtor owed ten times more than the other. Yet neither had any assets, so both were equally bankrupt. And the creditor treated them alike; there was forgiving mercy for both. This parable was meant to bring one truth home to Simon. His sins might be fewer than the woman's, but he too was completely bankrupt. He needed forgiving mercy just as she did.
The story is not an abstract illustration. Its two characters are sitting and standing in that house.
In this house of Simon the Pharisee, the Lord comes into contact with two people, representatives of two moral generations. I mean His host, and a sinner of the city. And these are the two debtors in the parable which the Lord tells on the occasion, and which is found in the heart of the story.
The Lord does not deny the gap between the two sums. By outward reckoning one life was ten times worse than the other. It changed nothing.
It is as much as to say this. Suppose it is true that this woman openly breaks God's laws, and that her obvious sins are plain to see. Suppose people count her ten times as great a violator of right principles as some others, and call her a five hundred pence debtor. Then suppose little can be said against Simon about outward misconduct. Suppose even that his offences against outward morality are few, and seldom repeated, so that he is only a fifty pence debtor. Still, the fact is this: whether the debt is little or much, both are so thoroughly bankrupt that they have nothing whatever to pay their creditor's demand.
The next verse turns on the phrase "they could not pay". Neither man can offer a part payment, and neither can promise his way out.
"And when they had nothing to pay" — here is another point where there is no difference. And yet, if you look at it another way, there is the greatest possible difference. As to ability to pay, there is no difference at all. Not only could His holiness not allow us to settle for less, but we on our part could not. All we can do is draw drafts on the future — a bank where we have no credit, and where not one of our drafts is honoured. We can promise: that indeed is easy; but which of our performances ever did anything but increase the debt?
Older translations say the creditor "frankly forgave them both." The ESV says he "cancelled the debt of both." The word behind it also turns up in Paul's letters.
Luke 7:42. — The word "forgave" (ἐχαρίσατο) is one of the Greek words that Luke shares with Paul (Rom. 3:24; Eph. 2:8 and following).
The parable settles the sequence, and commentators point to it as the key that unlocks verse 47.
Some say the woman's sins were forgiven because she did the acts the Lord praises. That thought reverses the whole parable. It also contradicts verse 50, which says: "Your faith has saved you." Not your love! The parable clearly teaches that the creditor freely cancelled both debts before either debtor did a thing. The words "for she loved much" do not give the cause or reason why she was forgiven. They give the proof that let others see she was truly forgiven.
The story left Simon cold. A man who has never counted a debt has nothing to be glad about when debts are cancelled.
What personal interest could he have in such a topic? He was not a debtor; he had harmed nobody. He was not like this poor sinner; he had always met every just demand... What need had he for forgiveness, who had never felt a burden or acknowledged a debt? Those words of the parable, "He frankly forgave," might thrill others, but there was no warmth, no music in them for him.
- Debt. Both people in Simon's house owed; the only question the parable allows is how much, not whether.
- Bankruptcy. Five hundred or fifty, neither could pay anything at all — a smaller debt is still an unpayable one.
- Gift. The creditor cancelled both debts for free, and Luke's word for it is one he shares with Paul.
- Love. Forgiveness came first and love followed. Her love proved the pardon; it never paid for it.
- Coldness. Simon stayed unmoved by the story, because a man who admits no debt can feel no gratitude.
but as they had nothing to pay, he forgave both of them [their debt] [say,] which of them therefore will love him most?
Simon the Pharisee is thinking that Jesus cannot be a prophet, because He lets a sinful woman touch Him. Jesus answers with a story about a creditor and two debtors, one owing ten times the other. The question He puts back to His host is not who owed more, but who will love more once the debt is gone.
Simon said nothing out loud. The parable exposes him anyway, and his own reply becomes the verdict on himself.
He read the man's heart as well as the woman's, and, yet more, He revealed God's love. Simon did not say a word, but thought his evil words to himself... "I suppose," said Simon, "the one he forgave the most." So Simon condemned himself without knowing it, and proved the grace of God right. Here was a man with no real sense of sin, and no sense at all of forgiveness.
The two sums stand for the two people in that room. The difference between them turns out not to matter.
It is as much as to say: suppose it is true that this woman openly breaks God's laws, and her sins are plain for all to see. Suppose people count her ten times as great a breaker of right principles as some others. Call her a five hundred pence debtor. Then suppose there is little to say against Simon in outward conduct... so that he is only a fifty pence debtor. Still, whether the debt is little or much, both are bankrupt. Neither has anything at all to pay what the creditor demands. This is most important, because the question is no longer whether a person is a great sinner or a little sinner. The question is: are your sins forgiven?
The phrase rules out what a debtor normally tries: an arrangement, part payment, a promise to do better.
As to ability to pay, there is no difference at all. It was not only that His holiness could not allow us to settle for less; we on our part could not do it either. All we can do is write cheques against the future. That is a bank where we have no credit, and it honours none of our cheques. We can promise; that is easy. But which of our performances ever did anything except increase the debt?
Older translations read "frankly forgave," where the ESV has "he cancelled the debt of both." One Greek verb lies behind both, and it means more than a debt let go.
The Greek verb behind these two English words is full of meaning. According to M. R. Vincent: "More is expressed by the verb than simply giving. He gave as a free, gracious, joy-giving gift." You can see what the verb implies in Romans 8:32, where it also occurs... The act of giving freely means an act that is full of pleasure to the heart of the one who does it. A creditor often grows bitter in spirit as he looks at an unpaid debt. How Christ shines in the glory of grace here in Luke 7.
The manner matters as much as the fact. A debt can be waived with hard words that make the debtor remember it forever.
In the case referred to here, the joy behind the action colours the action in the eyes of the debtor, giving it added value and so winning his unreserved devotion. If the release is given reluctantly there will still be mistrust; but here there is joy on the part of the creditor in giving the release, which only increases the joy in the debtor's heart.
The Lord's closing question shows which way love runs. Forgiveness comes first; love is the response.
This is exactly how love to God grows in the heart. Its spring is knowing that sins are forgiven. How obvious that a full and complete forgiveness must be a known fact to produce this response... No promise to do good in the future can pay the debt of our sinful past.
And this response is not a bonus. It is what the grace was aiming at.
Has He not come, and died, and risen again, to win our hearts for Himself? Does He not state it as the express purpose of the grace that has brought us the full and free forgiveness of our sins?... He looked for nothing less than this as the effect of that grace.
The parable divides into two conditions, and only one of them is ours to admit.
If you know in yourself that the first part applies to you, then the second part does too. If it is true of you that you have nothing to pay God with, then it is certainly true that He freely forgives you. Take that sweet assurance to your heart... God's thoughts are not like ours. The unbelieving saying that something is "too good to be true" never applies to Him.
- Debt — Simon and the woman owe very different amounts. Neither can pay a penny. The sums are ten to one; the bankruptcy is the same.
- Nothing — "Nothing to pay" rules out instalments, promises and self-improvement. Cheques drawn on our future come back unpaid.
- Freely — the creditor cancels both debts as a joy-giving gift, not a bitter concession. Grace pleases the heart of the One who gives it.
- Love — the Lord's question settles the direction. Forgiveness known is the cause; love is the effect.
- You — the parable is a title deed for you. Admit the first half about yourself, and the second half is yours to take.
And Simon answering said, I suppose he to whom he forgave the most. And he said to him, Thou hast rightly judged.
Jesus has just told a short story to Simon, His host. A moneylender wiped out the debts of two men, one owing ten times as much as the other, and Jesus asked which man would love him more. Simon's reply is cautious, and it is correct. The Lord accepts it, then turns it back on him.
The parable turns on a likeness Simon had not noticed.
If a creditor forgives a debt, the former debtor will love him, and the bigger the debt, the greater his love will be. The woman and Simon were different in many ways, and Simon focused on the difference. But according to the Lord Jesus there was a basic likeness despite all the differences. They were both destitute: utterly bankrupt with nothing to pay. You could tell the two debts apart by size. Even so, both men were thrown completely on the mercy of their creditor.
Simon does not answer warmly. He starts with a hedge — yet the answer he gives settles more than he means it to.
Simon has no choice but to give the conclusion that in principle justifies the actions of the woman, and with them the Person she directed them to. His "I suppose" probably implies an uneasy reluctance. He answered with caution, perhaps wanting to leave a way out for himself. Along with the other Pharisees he had judged John the Baptist, the Lord Jesus and His followers. He considered himself fully competent to sit as judge in those cases. Now he judges correctly in principle. In principle that also settles all the other questions he had judged completely wrong.
"You have judged rightly" praises the reasoning only. A man can state a truth and still stand outside it.
So, without knowing it, Simon condemned himself and vindicated the grace of God. Here was a man with no real sense of sin, with no sense whatever of forgiveness, and so without fear of God, let alone love. And here was the woman who truly acknowledged her enormous debt in the presence of grace. Her love was real and great. As our Lord said, Simon judged the truth rightly in theory. But he had no faith, and he hated and despised the Lord.
Simon's flat reply fits a man who cannot see himself anywhere in the story.
It took no special sharpness of mind to find the answer to that riddle. Simon had to give it, though he did so without enthusiasm. What personal interest could he have in such a subject? He was not a debtor; he had harmed nobody. He was not like this poor sinner; he had always met every fair demand. And as for God — was he not a Pharisee, fasting twice a week, saying his prayers, paying his tithes? Was that not enough? What need had he for forgiveness, who had never felt a burden or admitted a debt?
Simon's answer names a difference between the two debtors — but not a difference in what they received.
The amount of the debt made no difference in this respect. The Pharisee and the sinner of the city could both be met here. There was no difference as to the way or the certainty of forgiveness. The difference that this would make would naturally be of another kind.
That other difference is love — a measure we can turn on ourselves.
Simon had no true appreciation of the position he was in. He did not think he needed the free grace of God; he thought he had earned His blessing. The more deeply we feel the grace of God and the blessing that grace brings us, the greater our response of love to Him will be.
Simon judged the case correctly. The same verdict puts a question back to him.
Did Simon realize that there was anything in his life that needed forgiveness? Did he in practice dismiss it as "little"? Some think their sins hardly matter, and so they think they have no need of forgiveness. Others, whose sins are no worse than the first group's, still see their sins as a serious offence against God, and carry a deep burden because of them. Their hearts cry out for forgiveness. When they know they are forgiven, they love much.
- Debt — Simon and the woman differ in the size of the bill, not in the fact of owing it.
- Bankruptcy — neither debtor could pay a thing. Both depended entirely on the creditor's mercy.
- Pardon — the respectable man and the notorious sinner are forgiven the same way, with the same certainty.
- Love — the one real difference is the warmth of the answering love. It grows with the sense of how much was cancelled.
- Verdict — Simon judges rightly and so sentences himself: a man who feels no debt will feel no love.