It is strange how / oftentimes the air speaks. / We are sane as long / as we hear voices / when there are none. / We are insane when / we hear nothing and / worse we are deaf. [Calvin Miller, The Singer, 11] The poet and preacher, Calvin Miller, with these words opens the 2^nd chapter of his book The Singer. Miller's book retells the story of God's grace defeating evil. And it also sums up Luke's story. This woman, the Christ, and Simon the Pharisee: who is the craziest? Who is most sane? Well, our answers depend on how well we know the characters, and on how we define craziness and coherence.

Luke defines what is comprehensible by what's reprehensible. Such a scandal. Untamed grace from an unassuming Savior meets a wild love from a loony woman. This woman must be crazy. She sneaks up on Jesus, intrudes a perfectly presented meal, and melts at his feet. Tears puddle, hair clings, lips pucker, and she's a sinner! She gets all coo coo for Christ-loosing her marbles in front of those who are playing their cards so close to their dinner jackets.

From Luke, it sounds like that sinful woman hears voices, at least loud enough to know where to find Jesus and what to do when she gets to him. Having learned that Jesus was eating in the Pharisee's home, she follows the rhythm of forgiveness. But that Pharisee, Simon, is a bit tone deaf. He's got the Savior in his dining room, but doesn't pay attention to what he should be doing with such amazing grace singing in his ear. Sounds like Luke is saying strange things this way come when Jesus enters a room. Strange how the air speaks. Do you have the ears to hear it?

The woman is singing our song: I'm crazy for trying and I'm crazy for crying, And I'm crazy for loving you. Whether or not she knew Willie Nelson's words or renditions by Patsy Cline or Sinatra, the lady has the tune in her soul. At first sound, we might think she's actually crazy. She appalls the party. Decorum and refinement are 3-syllable words she must not know. I don't think she's had training in posture or ever attended the debutante ball. But what she knows and what she does with what she knows.it's the basis of Luke's beautiful story. She knows enough to lose her shame (if not her seemliness) and accept forgiveness with much enthusiasm.

That means getting over taboos. She is a walking no-no. Luke is gracious not to name her sin, but we can imagine. As a sinner, she is known as an untouchable: someone who walks on the far side of the great divide of yuck and eeuuw. So rude, she even lets her hair down-the fashion police are ready to arrest her. Hmm hmmm, well, she's never sipped from fine china. Ah, but what is rudeness? Who's actually offensive? The untouchable one-a sinful woman-who is crazy enough to touch what is pure and holy in Christ? Or the socially accepted Pharisee, who is as upright as he is inhospitable? You do sense the scandal at every turn? The woman gestures to love Jesus; the Pharisee postures to test Jesus. She is an untouchable who is touched. Simon is touchable but so untouched.

She, good God, touches Jesus. This is crazy! She bends; she lets down her hair; she melts. A dry dinner-party full of formality has been drenched. She wants to slip in like spring rain-easy come, easy go. But her kisses and sobs roll like thunder and flash like lightning. The meal is soaked, sopping with grace and soaking with gratitude.

How wacky is she? Testing the social bounds of insanity, she proves her spiritual right mindedness. Concerning Jesus, this woman is prophetic-she knows exactly who he is, what he's worth, how to treat her Savior. To Luke through his entire gospel picture that is the nature of the prophetic vision-to see things as part of God's greater kingdom and to act accordingly. Jesus is the ultimate prophet, so he goes about giving his followers the words and ways to continue spreading the goodnews of grace.

For Simon's part, he commits the sin of guarding good manners. He does not give in to the scandal of grace. Instead he mutters to himself: If this man were a prophet. Apparently he wouldn't know a prophet if one came over for dinner. Simon is famous for his propriety: how he carries himself in the presence of the one who would love to carry him away with love.

How are we known? For what are we famous? For being engrossed by the Savior or worshiping the little gods of propriety and decency. It is a fine line, isn't it? We must not become famous in this world for confusing grace with decorum and carriage [please see the poem "Decorum" by Stephen Dunn in his New and Selected Poems 1974-1994, 24-25].

As for scandals, which is the bigger one here: that she lets go and gets carried away; or that Jesus is willing to let her let go and to carry her away? She lets go. She intrudes the scene. And Jesus welcomes her. Divine forgiveness-the gift of grace-is received. Now this sinful woman turns shame to joy, contrition to gratitude. Salvation has come and she's heard its tune. Jesus announces to her what she already knows: your sins are forgiven. For that reason, she has shown great love.

When was the last time you showed it-this great love for Christ? Doesn't our giving it have to do with how we give ourselves over to God? We have to recognize the sacrament of the present moment. That is what the Jesuit priest, Jean-Pierre de Caussade, called it. He died back in the mid 1700s; but before he did, he reflected on the significance of abandoning ourselves to Christ at work in us. He offers: "If we have abandoned ourselves to God, there is only one rule for us: the duty of the present moment" [from A Guide to Prayer for All God's People; John Beevers in Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, 254]. Have you abandoned yourself to God? It is not easy, but the sinful woman shows that is the craft of being Christian.

Here is the marvelous tension of this pastoral residency: my very being here the past 2 years. During this time, you allow me to live in the duty of the present moment. There were times the past few months that I was tempted to overlook God's work in me here. I longed for the next place, when I will be a pastor then, where I will call home. Luke's story reminds me that the present moment is the one for which I'm accountable. If we only consider what's next, then, out there, we've short changed God's grace that addresses us right now.

So, are you more concerned with how you carry yourself or how Christ is ready to carry you when you're willing finally to let him? We are all tempted to do it, aren't we? Carry on with life as if nothing is so amazing about grace or life-changing as forgiveness. Then we are domesticating our Savior and taming his love, instead of getting carried away, a bit enthused, letting down our hair. The Sunday morning temptation: in worship we do it any time we meet our passionate, arms-opened Lord with a quick handshake. Carry on.let's not get carried away.

The craft of being Christian is tied to God's carrying us to people, to situations, to deeds of his goodness. We have, like Simon, committed the sins of seeking respectability, wanting control, to offer invitations rather than accept the ones God has already given.

The story is all about the relation of forgiveness of sins by God and love of humans for God. If we know this, beware: Luke just might call us prophets too. Knowing what we know, how would you address Jesus today? Moreover, how would you address others about him? I mean: How prone to supposedly insane acts, crazy gestures, might you be?

Well, do you see this woman? Simon might have asked. Now Jesus asks, Do you see this woman? What a difference tone makes.Jesus speaks up in defense of the woman. Thank God that Jesus speaks up for us too. Jesus, using the parable of the debtors, gives language to her motivations-why she's done what she has.

Faith is her motive that flows from divine forgiveness, not the cause of forgiveness. Her great love is the real symptom of forgiveness. Not the other way around. Through her actions, she shows she knows that her sins are forgiven. These tears and kisses are not the reasons she's forgiven. They are the faithful gestures of one who knows she's forgiven by Christ. And now this sinful woman is the model of faith. Your faith has saved you, Jesus says to her and summarizes every wild thing that just happened. Faith is only a response to grace-faith is the only right response to such grace.

The scandal is now a sensation. By the story of this sinful woman, Luke shows that life in Christ thrills our whole being: our zeal to sin does not, will not, ever equal God's passion to save.

This fanatical Christ might really welcome our enthusiasm to love him in proportion to his grace. And that is.crazy, absolutely crazy, isn't it? Crazy how greatly we are forgiven in light of how much we do sin.

The way I see it: the untamed Savior dines with our polished silver at our linen-clothed tables. He remains engrossed not on the dinner but squarely on the dinner-guests-you and me. Jesus pushes decorum aside and ladles grace so much that it stains our napkins as it runs down our chins. Go ahead, Christ invites, use your hands. Dig in. And let down your hair.

One moment this week, remember what you know of forgiveness. Think of the one who offers it to you. What will you do with what and whom you know?

For Christ's sake, let the occasional tear flow. Every so often, turn your lips to heaven; mouth a prayer, as if to kiss the Savior. Live under the grace of a forgiving God. And know, like that woman knows, it's so easy to become over-enthused when we realize Jesus forgives our sins. Now, act accordingly.

Amen.