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Many of the great events of history have taken place at tables. The Magna Carta, limiting the king's ability to tax his citizens, was signed on a table after the Battle of Runnymede in England. Leo Tolstoy wrote the novel War and Peace on the back of a table. The peace treaty ending World War I was signed at a table in the palace of Versailles in France. My wife and I fell in love over a dinner table.

The incident described in the text took place at a table. For, "one of the Pharisees asked him to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house, and took his place at the table." And since there is much to be learned from this story, let's turn aside from our busy lives and look closely at what God is saying.

He Comes Humbly

The Bible makes it clear. Our relationship with God begins with his initiative. For God incarnated himself in Jesus Christ and lived among us. He was born to the carpenter Joseph. He had his nativity in a stable. He was cradled in his mother Mary's arms. He was a Jew. As a boy he lived in Nazareth. He was a brother. He walked beside the sea. And, in the text, he visits a village and accepts a dinner invitation.

As John 1 teaches about Christ, "The word became flesh and dwelt among us." God was saying, "I am here! This is what I look like, what I expect of you."

Years ago, one Christmas morning, the Pope went to visit the inmates of a prison. He sat at their table to eat breakfast with them. And he told the men, "You couldn't come to me, so I came to you." Jesus Christ is God doing the same thing for us. We couldn't come to him, so he came to us. We couldn't find God, so he came to find us.

I have watched the high and mighty come to town, eat in the most expensive cafes, insist upon their privacy. Not Jesus. He comes humbly. He is a Nazarene, a Jew, a humble carpenter, and he accepts our invitation to eat with us.

Last summer at a Fellowship of Christian Athletes' summer camp, I was eating with some high school kids at a table in a crowded dining hall. I looked up and coach Bobby Bowden of Florida State University was sitting down at an empty place at our table. The rest of the young men failed to recognize him. Entering easily into our conversation, Coach Bowden and the lads talked of sports, of God, and girls, and politics, even the weather. The young men didn't have a clue with whom they were seated, until later on in the evening I told them.

"He was so humble," one said.

"He was just a normal guy," observed another.

"I can't believe I was that close to the coach of a national championship football team," said yet another.

And in the text, in that long ago incident at table, how many there really understood with whom they were eating? Almighty God! The Deity who shaped the universe took shape among us, becoming what we are that we might become one of his!

We Come Humbly

Now notice how a lady suddenly crashes the dinner party uninvited.

The very erudite Pharisees are eating with Jesus. They are stiff around him, skeptical of his teachings, clueless as to who he really is. A thin veneer of civility barely conceals their hostility toward him.

Suddenly the door opens and a woman creeps in. She stands behind Christ, seems unsure of herself.

So long she has sought Christ! For months now she's heard of him, talked with those he has healed, forgiven, ennobled. And since there was not much of any of this in her life, she desperately sought him out.

She's kneeling by Christ's side now, her tears splashing his feet. "Oh, I have wet his feet," she realizes in horror. So she unbraids her long hair and dries his feet with her locks.

The Pharisees are incensed. A woman only unbraids her hair at night, in private, for her husband. "This woman is a harlot! And Jesus is no prophet or he'd know what sort of woman is touching him!"

The woman is oblivious to all but Jesus in the room now. She has given herself to so many men, only to be used for a night and cast aside. She has known great sin, great rejection. And now looking up into Jesus' face, she sees unconditional love. And she not only weeps on Christ's feet, drying him with her hair, she humbly kisses his feet with her lips all the while mumbling her prayers of penance.

But that's not all! For while the Pharisees recoil in indignation at both her behavior and Christ's, she opens her hand and pours a bottle of expensive lotion over his body.

One can see in this woman's behavior great humility. As Christ preached in the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes, our relationship with God begins with a sense of our total poverty before God, a deep felt grief over it, a meekness, and a genuine hunger and thirst for righteousness. All this is reflected in the woman's kneeling, in her tears, her hair, and kisses.

We Don't Come At All!

Jesus comes to us humbly. And we meet him in humility, or we don't come at all. The text says Jesus knew what the Pharisees were thinking. So he put to them a question. "A certain creditor had two debtors. One owed him 500, the other 50. When they could not pay, he forgave them both. Now, which one will love him more?"

Simon, the Pharisee, answered, "I suppose the one whom he'd forgiven the most."

Then Jesus pointed to the harlot. "Since I came she has not ceased to humbly show thanksgiving for my coming, my mercy toward her sins. She's wept, she's dried my feet, she's poured lotion over my body. Simon, she knows she's the bride and I'm her groom in God's covenant of compassion! All the while you've barely concealed your self-righteous anger at me."

Turning to the woman, he said, "Go in peace. Your faith has saved you. You have loved well. Your sins are forgiven."

Then the Pharisees began to yammer all the more. "Who is this, who even forgives sins?"

My, but how pride destroys relationships! Oh, the shallow sophistication of the religious!

I judge myself by my virtues, you by your flaws, and always get such a splendid comparison.

So, I float through life smugly measuring and rating others -- "Harlot!" "Spiritual lowlife!" And when I meet Jesus, I feel no need of him, for I can take care of myself, thank you.

I am not poor. I am richly religious.

I do not grieve. I celebrate how much better than you I am.

I am not meek. But I've got a thing or two to teach you!

And I do not hunger and thirst for righteousness. I assure you, I have all I need.

So it is, I can sit at table with Christ Jesus and never know who he is or why he came or how lost in pride I am.

Conclusion

How many times in church over the past 50 years I've seen this episode reenacted. God is in our midst. And all we can do is look at ourselves in smug self-righteousness and judge others. Measure and rate. "I am pure!" Measure and rate. "Harlot." Measure and rate. "Who does this Jesus think he is?" Measure and rate. "I must say, I throw a nice supper party, even if I do say so myself!" Measure and rate.

But by whose standard? And shouldn't God be the judge?

Yes, this is the text that tells the story. Christ came humbly to table. We, as the woman, join him at table in humility. Or we do not come at all.