Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Not long ago, I was privileged to hear a series of bible studies on the subject of the biblical concepts of justice. The speaker discussed at some length the Old Testament idea of the "Jubilee Year" You may be familiar with it.

According to this tradition, the Jubilee Year was to be instituted at the end of seven Sabbatical cycles of seven years, or every fiftieth year. In Sabbatical years, the land was to be left fallow, so that the people would remember that it belonged to God and not to those who cultivated it. Also, creditors were to release what they had lent to their neighbors (Deut. 15:2). The intention was to correct social inequities. In addition, on the Jubilee Year, the fiftieth year, all land was to be returned to its ancestral owners and all Israelite slaves were to be freed. (cf. Lev. 25:8-17, 23-55; 27:16-25)

Nice in theory. Wouldn't it be great to have a clean slate periodically and to start all over?

But troublesome in practice. Indeed, there is no clear record of the Jubilee or Sabbatical Year ever having been practiced in ancient Israel. The difficulties are obvious, and have to do with human nature. Imagine how hard it would be to get any payments on loans as the Jubilee Year got closer.

"Colleges and universities close their fiscal year at the end of June instead of the end of December. Now just suppose July 1, (2004) has been declared the beginning of a Jubilee Year. How many of us would be rushing to settle up our kids' spring-term expenses by June 15 if we knew that come July 1, any outstanding debt would be forgiven?...

"Instead of writing checks, I suspect it is far more likely that too many of us would be lined up at the nearest ATM maxing out every credit card we owned. After all, if our debts are going to be canceled, doesn't it make sense to be really over our heads in hock, instead of just owing a few bills here and there?" (Homiletics, v.10, No. 3, p. 54)

Such is the backdrop of today's gospel text. In giving Simon an example of Jubilee debt forgiveness, Jesus expected that Simon, a Pharisee well-trained in the details of law, would understand the woman's presence not as an intrusion, but as an opportunity for the power of forgiveness to inspire love. Simon reasons rightly that the one forgiven more loves the more. So also, Jesus hopes, will he see the potentials for love in the situation that seems at first to trouble Simon's sensibilities—the woman, a sinner, anointing the feet of Jesus.

In using the parable of the two debtors, Jesus connects forgiveness and love. It never occurred to me before, but it just may be that this passage is as revealing of the nature of love as it is of the nature of forgiveness. We forgive, so instructs the Lord's Prayer, as we are forgiven. We love, says the scripture, because God first loved us (1 John 4:19). We can only forgive fully when we have had the experience of being forgiven. We can only love fully when we have had the experience of being loved. This is why Lutherans have always held to the absolute primacy of God's love-that we cannot on our own accord be saved; God must take the initiative. God must love and forgive us first.

But there is something more here, I think. Listen again to the words of our Lord to Simon,

"Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."

There is clearly a direct relationship established here between forgiveness and love. In all my searching of scripture, I don't ever remember seeing this as clearly.

Love, Jesus is telling us, is predicated on—it is generated by, the experience of receiving forgiveness. One cannot love without being forgiven, and to the extent one is forgiven, one is able to love. Little forgiveness, little love. Great forgiveness, great love.

Perhaps it doesn't sound so profound to you, but it has all kinds of implications that seem fruitful for Christian living. Let me take a moment of two to explore these.

I was perusing an old magazine and encountered an article entitled, "Should an affair end a marriage: The case for, and against, forgiveness". It speaks of changing attitudes about the matter, leaving more open the possibility of forgiving and moving forward with the marriage, using the Clintons as an example.

The thrust: "Can love thrive—maybe even grow stronger—when a couple decides to stay together after a rare infidelity? "I think so,... In a way, the marriage can become even more precious-like something you almost lost but retrieved in the nick of time." "Getting beyond the pain can bring renewed joy." (McCalls, 7/98, p. 49)

The sentiment sounded a lot like the parable that Jesus tells. Where much is forgiven, there can be much love. And please note: This is an offering of hope, not a prescription for behavior.

It is always the same with the gospel. When Jesus enters a scene, all of our judgments are shown to be wrong. The ones we view as righteous become foolish; the ones we see as sinful, we suddenly recognize as virtuous.

Take Simon. A student of the law, the host to our Lord at table, a man of scrupulous moral character. And yet, he is blind. Even though he can see in the parable that Jesus tells the proper judgment regarding forgiveness and love, he fails to see his own need for forgiveness, reflected in his harsh judgment of the sinful woman. To the extent that he remains blind to his need of forgiveness, he is just as fully unable to love fully and freely. His heart is concerned with propriety, not with justice. He even comes to question Jesus' validity as a prophet, expecting that if he were a prophet, he would never permit such behavior from such a sinful woman.

Similarly, the woman appears as intrusive, extravagant, embarrassingly demonstrative of her affection for Jesus. She was making a spectacle of herself, ruining everyone's fun except for Jesus, and offensively continuing to make over her Lord. Fully aware of her sinfulness, she weeps and bathes Jesus' feet. Her tears are not tears of repentance, but tears of gratitude. She acts out of love, not guilt. A truth that Jesus confirms as he comforts her with his words: "Your sins are forgiven...Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

The socially acceptable character becomes the example of unfaithful living and unrighteous judgment. The outcast is transformed into the one whose behavior we are to emulate. Judgment demonstrates a lack of love. Great love is the fruit of and a demonstration of forgiveness received. The woman's actions clearly articulate both the extent of the forgiveness she has known and the depth of her faith.

The story, then, challenges us from both ends. Simon's self-righteous blindness to his need of forgiveness calls us to examine those places in our hearts where we too feel more prone to judgment than repentance and love. The woman's willingness to humble herself in self-giving service challenges us to live lives that bear the loving fruit of forgiveness.

I close with another parable of sorts:

If you put flour and water together, you have glue.
If you add butter and eggs, you have the makings of a cake.
Where did the glue go? (Rita Rudner)

We might put it this way:

If you put faith and good works together, you get a self-righteous sticky mess.

If you add love and forgiveness, you have the makings of a true Christian.

To avoid making a sticky mess of our lives, as Simon was in danger of doing, we are offered the witness of an outcast, sinful woman. And we are wise to remember that faith, hope, and love abide, these three, but the greatest of these is love. Today's gospel message is that this greatest of all gifts is intimately connected to awareness of sin and acceptance of forgiveness. Where there is great forgiveness, and perhaps only there, one may also find great love.

I wonder what that will yield in our conversations and our lives this week.  —  Amen.