While Jesus reclines at Simon the Pharisee’s house (Luke 7:36ff), a woman of the city, apparently with a sinful reputation, approaches Him. Weeping, she falls to the ground at the feet of Jesus, and wets Jesus’s feet with her tears. Her hair then becomes a towel to wipe up the sob-filled mess. She finishes by anointing Jesus’s feet with an ointment she has brought. “As oft as I think over this event,” says Gregory the Great, “I am more disposed to weep over it than to preach upon it.” In contrast, the Pharisee judges and criticizes both Jesus and the woman in his heart. This then paves the way for a brief two-verse parable from Jesus:
“A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” (Luke 7:41-42).
To begin, we note that there are two debtors who owe different amounts to a moneylender. In this story, Jesus uses these debts to represent the accumulation of sin, and it is here that we encounter our first point: some people are bigger sinners than others. If you have been seeking Biblical validation for this idea, then here it is, but let me sarcastically say, “That’s great…now what?!?!”
After all, Jesus teaches that both debtors are unable to pay. I have very briefly in my lifetime talked with Christians who experience consistent financial difficulties, and it can be so shameful for them to not be able to have the money needed to pay a bill at the end of the month. It eats at them like some corrosive acid. It consumes their thoughts. And here’s the thing – it doesn’t really matter if they owe just $200 or even $20,000. The point is that they cannot pay it. Likewise, we have all sinned against God and have accumulated sin debts of varying sizes, and no collection of good deeds can make up for the sin. It doesn’t matter if it’s five hundred sins or just fifty. A.M. Toplady appropriately writes, ”Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to the cross I cling.”
Jesus continues with the parable by saying that the moneylender cancels the debt of both debtors. Indeed, the same pin stroke that cancels that small 50-denarii debt can do the same for the biggest of sinners. Isn’t that a beautiful picture?!? The 500-denarii debtor does not have to wait in agony for any longer. He does not have to beg any further, for his massive debt dies on the same day and at the same hour as the one who owes far less. Truly, truly, this is the eternal power of the cross of Jesus Christ.
Jesus then asks, “Which of the two forgiven debtors will love the moneylender more?” Seemingly in chagrin, the Pharisee answers, “The one – I suppose – for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” Jesus proceeds to teach that there is a relationship between one’s perception of forgiveness and the subsequent love which results from the one forgiven. “The one who is forgiven little loves little.”
It is clear from this account that we do not want to be like the Pharisee. He obviously perceives that he has been forgiven little. However, why does he look at his sin debt as “little”? As it turns out, “little” is really a comparative term. For example, my daughter Katie is “little” in my eyes, but, as she chases a cat around the house, I am sure the cat thinks of Katie much differently! Hence, “little” needs that reference point. And so, the only reason the Pharisee thinks of his sin as “little” is because of the comparison to the woman at Jesus’s feet whom he sees as “the BIG sinner.” Learning from this, we must not compare our sins to others as a way of justifying ourselves or as a way of excusing our lack of love.
I am frightened with how our spirits can so easily be like the Pharisee’s. He may have reasoned, “I have honored the carpenter’s son by inviting Him into my home. Nothing more is needed.” Simon does not extend to Jesus any of the common courtesies – no water, no kiss, and no oil. And I think we do the same – inviting Jesus into our hearts and thinking we have done all or even more than we are obligated to do. But do we similarly deny Christ the common courtesies one would extend to a friend? Do we proudly confess our friendship with Him, or do we hide our relationship with Him in conversations with others? Are we willing to share with others what He has taught since He is our trusted friend, or are we ashamed of His counsel? Do we enjoy spending time with Him, talking with Him and communing with Him, or would we rather not?
I am sometimes troubled by my lack of love for my Savior, and even more troubled at how this text reveals that this complacency, self-satisfaction, and pride have taken up residence in my heart as a result of a vain comparison of my sins (or so-called righteousness) to others’. Let us instead welcome Jesus with the same humility, gratitude, and faith of that “woman of the city” from many years ago.