Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 3359
“And, behold, a woman in the city, who was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at the table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at His feet behind Him weeping, and she began to wash His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair ofher head, and kissed His feet and she anointed them with the ointment” Luke 7:37-38.
THIS is a marvelously vivid Gospel incident. Every detail is plainly and forcefully set forth, so that we can picture the scene, making it live before us, without much mental effort. And yet, in some respects, there is a great reticence, a Divine delicacy, gloriously characteristic of so tender a book as the New Testament. The Evangelist—“the beloved physician,” Luke—does not lay bare the minute particulars of this woman’s life’s sins, but delights to dwell rather upon the story of her penitence and its fair fruits, and so makes her to shine resplendently as a wonder of redeeming Grace! The symptoms of her soul’s horrible malady he reveals in a single phrase—and that of general description—but upon the details of her gracious cure he delights to dwell.
We will consider the life of this famous penitent, as the Holy Spirit shall help us, under three heads, and notice, first, her former character Then, her deed of love which showed her new character And, thirdly, our Lord’s treatment ofher. Let us very briefly look at—
THE WOMAN’S CHARACTER, to begin with, in order that we may see the horrible pit out of which she was
taken.
We do not know much about her. Romish expositors generally insist upon it that she was Mary Magdalene, but this appears to other writers to have been quite impossible. Certainly it does not seem probable that a woman possessed with seven devils should follow the trade of “a sinner.” Demoniacal possession was akin to madness and it was frequently accompanied by epilepsy. And one would think that Magdalene was more fit to be a patient at an infirmary than an inmate of a reformatory. Some have even been so mistaken as to suppose this woman to have been Mary of Bethany, but this will never do. One cannot associate with the lovely household of Martha and Mary the horrible course of pollution implied in the vice which earned for this woman the special name of “a sinner.” Besides, although both women anointed our Lord, yet the place, the time, the manner were all different. I need not stay to show you the difference, for that is not the point in hand.
This woman was distinguished by the title of “a sinner,” and her touch was regarded by Simon the Pharisee as defiling. We are all sinners, but she was a sinner by profession—sin was her occupation and probably her livelihood. The name in her case had an emphatic sense which involved shame and dishonor of the worst kind. The city streets wherein she dwelt could have told you how well she deserved her name. Poor fallen daughter of Eve, she had forsaken the guide of her youth and forgotten the Covenant of her God. She was one of those against whom Solomon warns young men, saying, “Her house inclines unto death, and her paths unto the dead.” Yet as Rahab was saved by faith, even so was she, for Grace covers even a harlot’s sins!
She was a weel-known sinner. Ill-fame had branded her so that Simon the Pharisee recognized her as one of the town’s unhallowed sisterhood. Her way of life was common town talk—persons of decent character would not associate with her—she was cut off from respectable society and, like a leper, put outside the camp of social life. She was a sinner marked and labeled. There was no mistaking her—infamy had set its seal upon her.
She was one who had evidently gone a great way in sin, because our Savior, who was far from being prejudiced against her, as Simon was, and never uttered a word that would exaggerate the evil in anyone, yet spoke of “her sins which are many.” She loved much, for much had been forgiven. She was the five hundred pence debtor as compared with Simon, who owed but fifty. It is not difficult to imagine her unhappy story because that story is so commonly repeated
around us. We know not how she was first led into evil ways. Perhaps her trustful heart was deceived by flattering words and promises. Perhaps the treachery of one too dearly loved led her into sin and afterwards deserted her to loneliness and shame. Perhaps her mother’s heart was broken and her father’s head was bowed down with sorrow, but she became bold enough to pursue the sin into which she had at first been betrayed and became the decoyer of others. That long hair of hers, I fear, is rightly called by Bishop Hall, “the net which she was known to spread to catch her amorous companions.” She was a sinner of the city in which she dwelt and, though her name is not mentioned, it was far too well known in her own day. She had lived an evil life we know not how long, but, certainly, she had greatly sinned, for her own flowing tears, as well as the Savior’s estimate of her life, prove that she had been no ordinary offender. Let equal sinners be encouraged to go to Jesus as she did!