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.