June 17, 2007

by The Rev. Constance Jones

2 Samuel 11:26-12:10, 13-15 and Luke 7:36-50; Psalm 32

David, the King of Israel, did a terrible thing.
It’s told in excruciating detail in the second book of Samuel.
He spied a beautiful woman bathing,
a married woman named Bathsheba
and succumbing to desire (and also the abuse of power)
he took her for his own.
Then, through trickery
that called for more and more deceit and accomplices and plotting,
David had the woman’s husband killed so he could marry her.

In today’s Gospel lesson, a woman anointed Jesus’ feet with her tears.
Her sins aren’t named, but apparently they were many and notorious.

And this past week three Grace church members
took our labyrinth to the Emporia jail,
where women are incarcerated for who knows what sorts of crimes.

Darn. It must be the Sunday to talk about sin.

Well, actually, that’s not quite right.
It’s more like the Sunday to talk about contrition,
which is to say, acknowledging wrongdoing,
expressing remorse and requesting forgiveness.
Our prayer of confession in this liturgy is an act of contrition,
or....... at least it is when we mean what we say.

King David was a pretty hard case, however.
It took the prophet Nathan’s parable
about a rich man who stole a beloved lamb from a poor man.
Because until David’s sin was somehow externalized
and put into a recognizable story, the king couldn’t “get it” –
couldn’t see the magnitude of his offense.
“The man who did this has no pity! He deserves to die!” David said,
and Nathan said, “You are the man.”

Some of us are like that, in fact –
so wrapped up in the evil we are capable of
that we can’t even recognize it as evil.
Consider Nathan’s courage in cornering the king into naming his own sin.
It’s hard enough for us to do that with our family and friends,
let alone a person who is powerful –
to say, You are really in the wrong here.
But what a profound friend it is who does it.

There are other folks, however, with very tender consciences indeed,
who wander around all day with a load of guilt hanging around their neck,
being contrite more or less all the time, whether it is appropriate or not.
They can’t get rid of their sin, won’t get rid of it.
They don’t need Nathan’s prodding,
because they wear their guilt outside their skin for all to see.
We don’t know much about the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet,¹
but it seems likely she wore her sin on the outside,
and was permanently identified with it.

And the women in the Emporia jail?
Well, surely they are a mix of every kind of sinner you can imagine.
And you and me? We may not have been to jail,
but I’ll tell you that my list of sins of commission or omission is a long one.

Yet there comes a certain sacred moment
when the very hand of the God of judgment touches us.
And no, by judgment I do not mean that God smites us
or punishes us or blasts us to smithereens.

Rather this is what I mean by sacred moment.
When David saw what he’d done,
he filled with such clarity, remorse,
and loathing of what he’d been capable of,
that without excuses,
he confessed every last evil scrap of it to God in the presence of Nathan.
Putting himself totally at God’s mercy,
he was forgiven and transformed.

There were terrible consequences for David’s sin, because Bathsheba’s baby died.
But in God’s mercy David, the repentant sinner,
became the king that Israel venerated for all generations to come.
God had put away David’s sin, and claimed him as God’s own.

The sacred moment of judgment for the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet
came when she knelt before him.
Insulted and humiliated by the Pharisee who was Jesus’ host,
she made her wordless confession with her tears
and was forgiven.

You may notice that like King David and the unnamed woman
like the people who follow one of the steps in AA,
abased themselves and told the truth to God and at least one other person.
You may notice that they accepted the legitimate consequences of their actions.
Yet they still found the mercy of God.

From the Emporia jail this week
I’ve heard a host of stories of moments of clarity and conviction.
A woman whose walk to the center
resulted in pages and pages of writing which she shared with one Grace Church member.
A woman who’d lost her son while she was on drugs
and was brought to tears of remorse at seeing garden flowers that were brought to the jail.
A security guard who removed her heavy boots
and walked the labyrinth from the center out,
her face softening into smiles.
More stories I have heard, of transformation, floodgates opened,
Christ in the midst of it all .

Once again, here are the steps.
By God’s grace and often in the presence of another person, I name and accept responsibility for my sin.
(The other person may be a priest, a friend, a therapist, or a total stranger.)
Put myself into the hands of God without excuses.
When I am assured of God’s forgiveness, I accept it and say Thank you.
Then, I ask God how I may serve him with the rest of my life
Finally, I try to do it.

Let me remind you of the point the Biblical witness makes over and over and over.
It is these people who confess, are forgiven, and who change their lives
that God calls to service,
these people whom God loves and uses to further the divine purpose
of the restoration of creation.
In fact, these people are an example of God’s restoration of all creation.

We more or less know what happened next to King David.
We know little about the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet
or the women in Emporia jail.
But they are our brothers and sisters.
I hope we are, because Jesus said again and again that he came to save sinners.

Today two dear members of Grace Church will be confirmed.
So it is a good day to talk about what becoming mature in our faith is+ about.
It is always about each one of us telling the truth
in the community of the faithful,
and seeking renewal of life,
being made righteous by God’s forgiveness and love.
Then going out into the world rejoicing in the power of the Spirit.

Today’s psalm seems to get it exactly right (as the psalms have a way of doing),
so I will close with a reprise of this bit of it:

While I held my tongue, my bones withered away, * because of my groaning all day long.

For your hand was heavy upon me day and night; * my moisture was dried up as in the heat of summer.

Then I acknowledged my sin to you, * and did not conceal my guilt.

I said," I will confess my transgressions to the LORD." * Then you forgave me the guilt of my sin.

Therefore all the faithful will make their prayers to you in time of trouble; * when the great waters overflow, they shall not reach them.

You are my hiding-place; you preserve me from trouble; * you surround me with shouts of deliverance.

Be glad, you righteous, and rejoice in the LORD; * shout for joy, all who are true of heart.

Thanks be to God.

Back to the index of Connie's Sermons