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.
And turning to the woman he said to Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thy house; thou gavest me not water on my feet, but *she* has washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with her hair.
At a dinner party, Simon the Pharisee gave his guest none of the ordinary welcome, and a woman off the street supplied all of it. Jesus asks him, "Do you see this woman?" — not to check that Simon noticed her, but to make him weigh two welcomes.
Water for a guest's feet was basic courtesy in that world. Simon skipped it.
The Lord reminded Simon that he had invited Him into his house and then gave Him no water to wash His feet. That was the usual courtesy in that land of sandals and dusty paths. But the woman had done far more: she washed His feet with tears and wiped them with her hair.
What Simon provided showed what he thought Jesus was worth.
After all, the welcome that even a Pharisee — a religious man — gives Jesus is a small one. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The poor reception showed how little his heart welcomed Jesus. Yet he thought he was doing Jesus a favour. This is what natural religion always does. He thought he was honouring Him. Instead he was feeding himself. The measured scale of what he provided proved how low his idea of Jesus was.
What did Simon miss?
God Himself was in his house in flesh and blood, and Simon saw nothing. He only decided that Jesus was not a prophet. And note this: Christ said nothing about it, and bowed to the slight. Yet He felt the neglect. Simon had not met Him with the common courtesies of life.
One visit did two opposite things.
He tore the mask of pretended righteousness off the Pharisee. But where He found a poor wretched soul, He said, I will have you. Such was the woman of the city, who dared not show her face among decent people, much less to God. To the proud and unfeeling Pharisee He said, "You gave me no water for my feet." He did not even offer the common courtesies of life. Of the woman He said, "she has wet my feet with her tears." So the light exposes the self-righteous man. The poor woman — a confessed sinner — finds divine love, and more than that, forgiveness.
Set what Simon withheld beside what the woman gave.
What self-righteousness so ungraciously withheld, the poor penitent supplied. The Pharisee did not think He was worth a little water for His feet, far less the costly oil for His head. But who ever heard of self-righteousness having oil for the head, water for the feet, or a kiss of gracious welcome for the lowly Son of Man? But the humble penitent finds them all. The fountains of her heart are broken open to bathe His feet with tears.
Her love was real, but it was not where things started.
It was plain that the woman loved in a new and divine way. What produced this? Faith in Jesus. Love without faith counts for nothing with God. It is worthless, only human. Faith is the root, and love is the fruit, as here.
She had met more than a teacher.
The Lord answered the Pharisee's unspoken thought. He showed Himself not only a prophet of God, but God of the prophets. Jesus revealed God's heart. Without knowing it, the Pharisee proved that he knew nothing of it. The woman had learnt it. His goodness had gone right through her. Her sense of it showed in her deep reverence for the Lord Jesus. There she had met God; there God made Himself known to her as the God of all grace. It was not a doctrine, but a divine Person of infinite love who attracted, filled and fixed her heart.
Jesus spoke to one man at one table. The words reach further.
"I entered your house." He says this to each of us. In the most absolute grace He has come to us, drawn by nothing that existed in us. How has this wonderful visitor been received? To Simon He says, "You gave me no kiss. You gave me no water for My feet." No welcome, and no refreshment.
- Withheld. Water for the feet was ordinary courtesy in a land of sandals and dusty roads. Simon did not offer it.
- Measured. What a person gives Christ shows what he thinks Christ is worth. Simon gave almost nothing.
- Exposed. One visit stripped the mask off the self-righteous man. It brought divine love to the woman who admitted what she was.
- Supplied. What self-righteousness held back, the penitent supplied and more. She gave tears where Simon gave no water.
- Rooted. Faith is the root and love the fruit. She had met not a doctrine but a Person of infinite love, and that fixed her heart.
Thou gavest me not a kiss, but *she* from the time I came in has not ceased kissing my feet.
Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus to a meal, but gave Him none of the courtesies a host owed a guest. A woman known for her sinful life wept at His feet, and the Lord answers by naming three things Simon left undone — the missing kiss is the second.
A guest in that culture arrived expecting water, a greeting, and oil. One writer notes that Simon supplied none of the three, and points to what was missing in Simon himself.
Simon had chosen to withhold from the Lord the most ordinary courtesies of the day. Neither the water for His feet, nor the kiss of welcome, nor the oil for the head was given. He had received the Lord in a way that amounted to an insult; yet the poor woman had made up for it all in abundant measure. He had no sense of guilt and no love for the One who came in the grace of forgiveness. She had deep repentance, faith in Jesus, and a burning love for Him.
Simon's table was set for himself as much as for his guest. One writer weighs his welcome against the woman's, and finds Simon's estimate of Jesus in it.
After all, the entertainment that even a Pharisee — a religious man — provides for Jesus is very short. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks: the poor reception betrayed how little his heart welcomed Jesus. Yet he thought to patronise Jesus. This is what natural religion always does. He thought he was honouring Him, but he was really feeding himself. He showed the low idea he had of Jesus by how carefully he measured out what he gave Him. "You gave me no kiss" — in those lands a kiss was nothing unusual — "but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet." Not even a king was entertained like this.
The Lord does not describe a single kiss but an unbroken one. The wording points to actions still going on as He spoke.
The words used show that she kept doing all these things the whole time. She stood at His feet behind Him, weeping. She began to wash His feet with tears. She was wiping them with her hair, kissing them, and anointing them. There is a continuity about it; it was not just one single action. "From the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet" shows this. While the Lord was speaking to Simon this display of affection was going on before his very eyes.
She did not aim at the greeting Simon withheld. One writer finds both her humility and her love in the place she chose instead.
Look at her — kissing the feet she had bathed with her tears. She did not dare to kiss the pure lips that Simon refused to honour. It was honour enough for her to kiss His sacred feet, which had brought her salvation. What but love too deep for words would ever have found such a voice as that! She "has not ceased to kiss" the weary feet that had walked the thorny road of sin for her lost soul.
Love like hers is not just a personality she happened to have. One writer traces it back one step further.
It was plain that the woman loved in a new and divine way. What produced this? Faith in Jesus. Love without faith counts for nothing with God — it is merely human. Faith is the root, and love is the fruit, as here.
The Lord's rebuke stops short of denying Simon any love at all; He leaves the measuring to Simon himself.
Notice how gently the Lord deals with Simon's conscience. He will not say Simon does not love at all. Being his guest, He gives him all possible credit for the invitation. He leaves it to Simon's own soul to decide whether he loved even "a little."
The two words "your house" make this more than an old dinner story.
"I entered into your house." He says this to each of us. In absolute grace He has come to us, drawn by nothing in us. How has this wonderful visitor been received? To Simon He says, "You gave Me no kiss. You gave Me no water for My feet." No welcome, and no refreshment. Is this true of one reader of these lines? No welcome and no refreshment for Jesus when He came. He expects and seeks both.
- Welcome withheld — Simon gave no water, no kiss, no oil. That reception treated the Lord as an insult, not as a guest.
- Welcome measured — what a host lays on shows what he thinks his guest is worth. Simon laid on very little.
- Welcome unceasing — she kissed His feet without stopping, even while He was speaking to Simon.
- Welcome from below — she never claimed the greeting Simon owed. His feet were honour enough for her.
- Welcome rooted — faith in Jesus is the root and love is the fruit. So the question lands on us: has He found welcome and refreshment in your house?
My head with oil thou didst not anoint, but *she* has anointed my feet with myrrh.
Jesus is eating at the house of Simon the Pharisee, and He names three courtesies His host never offered. The last one, the oil for the head, is the sharpest: why did a religious man give Jesus less than any guest could expect?
Anointing a guest's head with oil was not a luxury. It was the normal welcome of the day.
"You did not anoint my head with oil" (Luke 7:46) shows us that it was usual to anoint guests. But this woman does more: she broke the box and poured it on His head. There is no stint here, but the contrary. Would that we were more like this in our worship, and had more to give the blessed Saviour.
Oil meant more than good manners. Anointing a guest's head was a mark of friendship:
It suggests friendship. Did Christ not complain that Simon failed to show Him this mark of friendship? (Luke 7:46). The oil may well remind us that only the Spirit of God can make such friendship possible. The result is that the soul is more than satisfied, and there is the overflow.
The contrast has more than one layer. It runs between cheap oil and costly perfume, and between the head and the feet.
Three things the woman did stand against three courtesies Simon had not shown the Lord Jesus. Two points come out. This woman had done what Simon failed to do. She also went beyond anything Simon could have been expected to do... Olive oil was a cheap substance compared with perfume. There is also a clear contrast between the head and the feet here. Christ says in effect to Simon: "You didn't anoint my head, the nobler part, with ordinary oil. She has anointed my feet with costly ointment." This is the climax of the application of the parable.
What a host provides shows what he thinks of his guest. Simon's small scale of hospitality gave him away.
After all, the entertainment that even a Pharisee — a religious man — provides for Jesus is very short... the poor reception betrayed how little his heart welcomed Jesus. Yet he thought to patronise Jesus. This is what natural religion always does. He thought he was doing Him honour. Instead he was feeding himself. The measured scale of what he provided for Jesus proved how low his idea of Him was... "You did not anoint my head with oil" — but here again see how far she went beyond — "but she has anointed my feet with ointment." Not even a king was so entertained.
The woman supplied every honour the host had held back.
What self-righteousness so ungraciously withheld, the poor penitent supplied. The Pharisee did not think He was worthy of a little water for His feet, far less the costly oil for His head. But who ever heard of self-righteousness having oil for the head, water for the feet, or a kiss of gracious welcome for the lowly Son of Man? But the humble penitent finds them all... A poor, fallen, degraded sinner — an open breaker of the law — enters the home of man's righteousness. She bows at the feet of the son of David. She carries off the blessing in the very face of the Pharisee's vain glory.
The missing oil and the poured-out perfume are more than manners. They show how much each person had learned of God.
Jesus revealed God's heart, and the Pharisee proved without knowing it that he knew nothing of it. The woman had learnt it. His goodness had reached right into her. Her sense of it showed in her deep reverence towards the Lord Jesus. There she had met God; there God made Himself known to her as the God of all grace. It was not a doctrine, but a divine person of infinite love who attracted, filled and fixed her heart. All her way and bearing bore witness to her self-judgment, her faith and her love (for she loved much). Simon's conduct showed the opposite. In slighting Jesus and misjudging grace, he showed that he did not know God. But she knew Him — or rather, she was known by Him.
- Custom — Anointing a guest's head with oil was the normal welcome. Leaving it out was a visible slight.
- Measure — What a host gives shows what he thinks of his guest. Simon's thin welcome showed how little his heart wanted Jesus.
- Contrast — Cheap oil withheld from the head; costly perfume poured on the feet. She did what Simon failed to do, and went far past it.
- Supply — Self-righteousness had nothing to give. The penitent supplied it all, and carried off the blessing inside the house of man's righteousness.
- Knowledge — The real division is not manners but God. Simon slighted Jesus and misjudged grace. She had met the God of all grace, and was known by Him.
For which cause I say to thee, Her many sins are forgiven; for she loved much; but he to whom little is forgiven loves little.
Simon the Pharisee watched a woman with a bad reputation weep over Jesus' feet. He decided that a real prophet would have pushed her away. His answer turns on one small word: "for". Does love earn forgiveness, or flow from it?
The verse is often misread as a wage paid for affection. One commentator separates the two senses of "for":
To His host the Lord turned and said, "Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much." The word "for" sometimes gives a reason. Sometimes it gives evidence. In this case it is the evidential "for," not the causative. It was not because she loved much that the Lord forgave her. It was His grace that caused her love.
If her love did not buy the pardon, something had to produce the love. One writer traces it to what she saw in Jesus:
But it was what she had seen in Jesus Himself which, by grace, melted her heart, and produced the love she had for Him — seeing what He was for sinners like herself. She thinks only of Him; He has taken possession of her heart, so as to shut out other influences. ... She saw what He was for a sinner, and that the most wretched and disgraced found a resource in Him... Her love did not earn this. God was revealing a glorious fact: the sins of a person whose heart has turned to God are fully pardoned, however many and however vile.
The Lord does not soften her record. He calls her sins many — and one writer presses what He did not say:
He does not say: "Many of her sins are forgiven." Suppose 90% of them were forgiven. In the numbers of the parable, that would be 450 out of the 500. But if that were the case she would be no better off than Simon, who was still a bankrupt sinner with his 50. The expression "her sins, which are many" means all her sins. The creditor did not forgive part of the debt, but the whole of it.
Could she be sure of forgiveness before Jesus said a word to her?
When the Lord declared her forgiven on this evidence that she loved much, He had not yet spoken to her. She had seen His acts and ways of love with others, and she had laid hold of the grace in it for her own need. His lips only confirm it to her.
Her actions were the fruit of her love. But her love was not what saved her:
She believed before she came. Her faith had brought her, but she did not know that her faith saved her. She loved before she came, and all that she did was the fruit of her love; yet not her love, but her faith saved her.
The second half of the verse targets the host. One writer warns against reading the two debtors as a real measure of guilt:
Simon did not owe just fifty pence while the woman owed five hundred. Before God, as the apostle teaches, there is no difference; "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23.) ... But what of Simon? He had shown no affection to the Lord. He had not even given Him the ordinary courtesies of a host toward his guest. So he proved that he "loved little" — he was not a man who owed only fifty pence, but a man to whom little was forgiven.
The danger is not having a small debt. It is thinking you have one:
Did Simon realize that there was anything in his life that needed forgiveness? Did he dismiss it as "little"? ... Some think of their sins as being of little consequence, and so think they have no need of forgiveness. Others, whose sins are no worse, know their sins are a serious offense against God, and feel the weight of them. Their hearts cry out for forgiveness. When they realize they are forgiven, they love much.
Once you know you are forgiven, a fuller view of your own sin stops being frightening:
Suppose a merchant has debts he knows he cannot meet; he would be afraid to look honestly through his books. But suppose some friend paid it all, and left him sure of a great fortune once everything was settled. Then he would no longer be afraid to look at them. Discovering how large his debt had been would only deepen his sense of his friend's love... Grace has put it all away; so the whole effect of discovering sin, when we know forgiveness, is to deepen the love and heighten the joy.
- Grace first. Her love did not cause the pardon; His grace caused her love.
- Sight second. What melted her was what she saw Jesus to be for sinners like herself — He had taken possession of her heart.
- All, not most. "Many" means the whole debt cancelled; a partial pardon would have left her as bankrupt as Simon.
- Love as evidence. The tears were the receipt, not the payment — her faith saved her, and her love proved it.
- Little loved. Simon's coldness showed a man who thought he needed little. How much we love shows how much we think we have been forgiven.
And he said to her, Thy sins are forgiven.
A woman known around town as a sinner has been weeping at the feet of Jesus while His host looks on with contempt. Having defended her to Simon, the Lord now turns and speaks to the woman herself.
Up to now He had spoken about her, and to a man who despised her. One commentator notes how much would have been lost if He had stopped there.
There is more. "And He said to her, Your sins are forgiven." Without this declared to herself, how much would have been lost! It was a great thing to hear Him tell those who judged her — and misjudged Him, which was far worse — "I say to you, Simon, her sins, which are many, are forgiven." How much more when He turned even to her and said, "Your sins are forgiven!"
Notice also what He leaves out when He turns to her. Simon had heard her sins counted; she does not.
Then the Lord addressed the woman, but did not refer to her sins as being many. He simply assured her they were forgiven. She had His word for it, so no doubt remained that all were fully forgiven. Wonderful certainty, for the Lord had said it!
The word means removal, not a softening of her record. And one man at that table never heard it.
The woman who drew near to Jesus with tears of repentance and faith had her sins actually forgiven. "Your sins are forgiven" — that is, sent away, dismissed. That was never said to Simon the Pharisee.
Verse 47 says her sins are forgiven "for she loved much." That can sound as though her love bought the pardon. Everything turns on the little word "for."
The word "for" is sometimes a reason why, and sometimes an evidence why. In this case it is the evidential "for," not the causative. It was not because she loved much that the Lord forgave her. It was His grace that caused her love.
Commentators differ on whether these words created her forgiveness or confirmed it. One says she had already taken hold of grace before He ever spoke to her.
When the Lord pronounced her a forgiven one on this evidence that she loved much, He had not yet spoken to her. What gives her faith such remarkable beauty and simplicity is that she had no word spoken directly to her to go on. She had seen His acts and ways of love with others, and she had laid hold of the grace in it for her own need. His lips only confirm it to her.
Another says the announcement came at the close of the evening, and that His word alone made her sure.
Here the Lord declares her sins forgiven. But notice: this came at the close of the interview, not the occasion of it. There is no ground to suppose that she knew her sins were forgiven before this... He speaks with authority, and guarantees forgiveness. Until Jesus said so, it would have been presumption for anyone then to act on the certainty that his sins were forgiven.
He sends her home pardoned. He asks her for nothing at the temple — and her law had no sacrifice for sins like hers.
We do know that He declared forgiveness to the woman in the Pharisee's house, and without any offering that she had to bring to God's altar to get it. No sacrifice she could have taken to Jerusalem could ever have met her need. Deliberate sin was not provided for by the law; so the favour that was given to her is of such interest to all of us. It was a foretaste of the gospel of the grace of God.
She did not leave with a hope for the future. She left with a fact she could state the next morning.
If we had met this woman the next day and said to her, "Are your sins forgiven? Are you saved?" what would her reply have been? "Yes, I have forgiveness; I am saved." And if we then asked, "Are you quite sure your sins are forgiven?" — would she not have said, "Yes, quite sure. The Saviour told me so, and His word can never fail"?
- Grace draws. She had watched His ways of love with others. She took hold of that grace for her own need before He ever spoke a word to her.
- The word declares. He did not stop at telling Simon. He turned and said it to her face — and left out the word "many."
- Love proves. Her tears were the evidence of pardon, not the price of it. The "for" of verse 47 points to proof, not payment.
- No payment. No offering at the temple could have covered her sins. She goes home forgiven anyway — a foretaste of the gospel.
- The certainty stands. She could have said the next day, and every day, "I am forgiven, because He told me so."
And they that were with [them] at table began to say within themselves, Who is this who forgives also sins?
At a Pharisee's dinner table, Jesus has just told a woman with a bad name in the town that her sins are forgiven. The guests around Him ask the right question about who He is. They ask it among themselves, and they never reach the answer.
The guests never put the question to Jesus. Older translations read that they began to say it "within themselves" — the question stayed in their own hearts. One writer sets Luke's wording beside two other moments in this Gospel where people "began" to do something:
When the Lord Jesus forgave a man in chapter 5, Luke writes that the people present "began to reason" (v. 21). Here they "began to say to themselves." Christ did not answer them as He did in chapter 5, though He knew their thoughts. Here He publicly vindicates the woman, who had justified Him by her acts of love. The people "began to say to themselves" in unbelief, unlike the prodigal in chapter 15 who "began to be merry" in communion with his father (v. 24).
The murmur was also wider than the host. Commenting on the moment the woman heard she was pardoned, one writer points out that Simon was not the only one troubled:
She loved much, because she was forgiven much; and she felt it... and so she must hear how truly she was forgiven. The Lord says to her, "Your sins are forgiven." This drew out the inward question of those around, and not Simon's only.
Their instinct was right: forgiveness belongs to God. What they missed was that God was in the room:
The Lord did not only speak of her forgiveness to the Pharisee. He also spoke to her about it Himself. Those four words must have been balm to her weary spirit: "Your sins are forgiven."... The onlookers might well ask, "Who is this, who even forgives sins?" God was here in the fullness of grace in the humbled Saviour.
That leaves no middle ground about the woman either. Her devotion to Him was either right, or it was the worst kind of wrong:
Only God can forgive sin... Either the Lord Jesus is God or this devotion to His person is open blasphemy and idolatry. Everything here revolves around the person of Christ.
What was new was not forgiveness but the way it came. She brought nothing to the altar for it:
We do know that He declared it to the woman in the Pharisee's house. And He did so without her bringing any offering to God's altar to obtain it. No sacrifice she could have taken to Jerusalem could possibly have met her need. The law made no provision for presumptuous sin. That is why the favour shown to her is of such interest to all of us. It was the first instalment of the gospel of the grace of God, which can now be freely and fully proclaimed to everyone on earth.
One writer weighs how far this pardon reaches, and what it points forward to:
In the case before us the forgiveness has nothing to do with the present life. It is absolute, unconditional, and eternal... It was what ought to be in Christianity — a small foretaste or example of what was to be proclaimed in the Gospel. It is found only in Luke.
He knew what the doubters were thinking. He did not argue with them. He spoke instead to the one person who wanted what He was giving:
The Lord had answered Simon's thoughts. But others at the meal were dense enough to question within themselves how the Lord could forgive sins (v.49). He answered their unbelieving thoughts also, but not by speaking to them directly. Instead, He added even more striking words of encouragement to the woman, "Your faith has saved you. Go in peace" (v.50). Not only does He forgive: He saves and gives peace.
Everyone at that table heard the same words. Only one person there wanted them:
The notorious sinner heard it, and knew it was spoken of her, and to her. The vilest sinner in that house, as men count vileness, was the favoured one of all that company. The gracious announcement raised the question in many hearts: "Who is this, who even forgives sins?" But it seems that none of those who wondered this wanted that blessing for themselves. A person must be brought to feel his need before he is willing to receive forgiveness.
- Right question. Only God forgives sins, so the guests were right to ask who this man was. They never reached the answer: God Himself was there in the humbled Saviour.
- No middle ground. Either Jesus is God, or the woman's devotion to Him was blasphemy and idolatry. Everything in that room turns on who He is.
- New pardon. She brought no offering to the altar, and the law made no provision for her kind of sin. She heard the first instalment of the gospel.
- Full pardon. This forgiveness has nothing to do with the present life. It is absolute, unconditional and eternal.
- Directed pardon. He never argued with the doubters. He turned to the woman instead. She felt her need, and she received forgiveness, salvation and peace.
And he said to the woman, Thy faith has saved thee; go in peace.
At the dinner table, a woman known in the town as a sinner has just heard the Lord say that her sins are forgiven. The other guests are asking who He thinks He is, but His last words go to her — and they raise the question of what saved her: her tears, her love, or her faith.
He does not argue with the doubters. He turns back to the woman while they are still questioning.
Others at the meal were dense enough to ask themselves how the Lord could forgive sins (v.49). He answered their unbelieving thoughts too, but not by speaking to them directly. Instead, He added still more striking words of encouragement to the woman, "Your faith has saved you. Go in peace" (v.50). Not only does He forgive: He saves and gives peace. He gives this assurance to the woman in front of all these doubters. At least He gave her no reason to doubt, whatever unbelieving doubts others may have.
Earlier the Lord had said she loved much. Here He names what saved her — and the two are not the same.
It was evidently not the woman's first sense of the grace of Christ. She did what she did because in her heart she truly believed in Him. She believed before she came. Her faith had brought her, but she did not know that her faith saved her. She loved before she came, and all that she did was the fruit of her love; yet not her love, but her faith saved her. She loved much, because she was forgiven much; and she felt it.
Reading it the other way round turns the parable He had just told upside down.
To say her sins were forgiven because she did the acts the Lord praises reverses the whole parable. It contradicts verse 50, which says: "Your faith has saved you." Not your love! The parable teaches that both debtors had their debts cancelled for free, before either of them did a thing.
Without this sentence she might have credited her own tears.
Not only did He forgive, He gave the woman the assurance of salvation, and also declared that her faith had been the means of it. Apart from this word, she might have imagined that her sorrow or her tears had won it. But no: it is faith that makes the all-important contact with the Saviour, and that contact brings salvation. She could indeed "Go in peace." She had forgiveness, which covered all her past. She also had salvation, which meant deliverance from the evil that had enslaved her.
Taken with verse 48, His words to her cover the whole of her life at once.
He speaks of the past, "Your sins are forgiven"; He speaks of the future, "Your faith has saved you"; He speaks of the present, "Go in peace." As she got up and went home, do you think she envied even the greatest woman in the land? Now she had what wealth and honours could not buy, what He alone could give.
She was at His feet. He does not tell her to stay.
The last words of Jesus to the woman are very emphatic — "Go in peace." The first is a remarkable word — "Go." Some people never seem to learn its force in their own experience. They may be sincere believers, but they keep hanging about Christ with doubts. They do not know the forgiveness of sins and present peace. They keep asking to be made whole and hoping to be pardoned, when Christ says to them, You are forgiven: "Go." He says, "Your faith has SAVED you; go in peace!" It is as if He said: Have no more doubts, fears, or misgivings. You are made whole, pardoned, reconciled, a child of God, a sinner saved.
"Go in peace" was a common parting phrase in that part of the world. Its use here is weighed differently.
Our Lord uses this form of blessing, "Go in peace," in only one other place in the Gospels. There, as here, it goes with the faith that saved. Because of this link we have good reason to treat these words as weightier than the ordinary farewell greeting of the East. The Lord was far above merely human convention in speech. He had come to "ordain peace" for His people in the best and surest sense. Peace, as it is seen here, is something the soul owns inside. It is the opposite of the fret and anxiety that, at its worst, can rise in a person from the sense of guilt before God or from the fear of death. Only divine assurance can drive that anxiety out. So peace follows faith, and it belongs to the mind and heart.
- Faith saves. Her love and her tears were real, but they were fruit, not cause — "not her love, but her faith saved her."
- Forgiveness first. She loved much because she was forgiven much; reverse the order and the parable of the two debtors collapses.
- Salvation is more. Forgiveness covered her past; salvation meant deliverance from the evil that had held her.
- Peace is present. Past, future and present are all settled, so He tells her to go — with an inward peace that answers guilt and the fear of death.
- Assurance is public. He spoke it over the heads of the doubters, so that whatever they thought, she had no reason left to doubt.