Thursday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 446

When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet,
but she has bathed them with her tears...
So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love.
But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.

Everyone who takes our faith seriously discovers the wonder, joy, and privilege of knowing the Lord through the mysteries of our Christian religion. They are "open secrets;" but that's an oxymoron.

Our faith is not common sense, which is something everyone in a given culture with little knowledge of history knows. Common sense remembers little more than what a person learned from others during one short life span. But our faith has a much longer, far more complex history. 

Nor does our faith agree with every doctrine of all religions. Since reading Steven Prothero's God is not One,The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World, I don't believe there is a common definition of religion; much less one belief or attitude to bind them all. "Spirituality," whatever that is, is not a universal belief.

Given the challenge of continually learning about our Catholic faith, and the satisfaction that comes with that investment of time and energy, we're apt to look askance at those spiritual consumers and cafeteria Catholics who presume to make themselves right at home in the church. Some of them would define the undefined, explain the inexplicable, and unscrew the inscrutable -- to the wonder of some and the amusement of others. 

But deeper understanding of our faith also comes with its dangers, as today's gospel suggests. The Pharisee who graciously welcomed Jesus to his home and board, and appeared eager to learn more of the Teacher's doctrine, was evidently not prepared for what the Lord taught him. He was upset when a woman with a seedy reputation crashed the evening with her display of emotional piety. He had heard of the Teacher's wisdom and prophetic insight, but Jesus didn't seem to know what everyone knew. Nor was the Lord's nose repelled by the atmosphere that accompanied her. Rather, he welcomed the intruder with every sign of gracious kindness. 

Under such circumstances, most respectable congregations would utter an audible Harrumph. Someone might say, "This won't do!" loudly enough to be heard by the leaders. 

But the Lord is nothing if not a prophet, and the woman is obviously responding to the Lord under the influence of a prophetic spirit. She may be, despite her reputation, a prophetess like several other women in Luke's Gospel. 

The Pharisee who thinks he knows something of our religion must be prepared to listen. And, fortunately, he steps up to the challenge. When Jesus said, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” he replies, “Tell me, teacher!” 

He goes beyond that and plays the part of Plato's Hippias to Jesus's Socrates. When the Lord poses a riddle, he answers with common sense. And Jesus affirms his answer but reads it into the immediate crisis, as he says, "Do you see this woman? I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little." 

Becoming a Catholic is a lifelong, endless process. It is not like reading and comprehending an encyclopedia from A to Z; nor is it the skills of a craftsman who is always learning to use new and better tools, and sometimes creating his own. Rather, the Lord's mysteries draw us into those dark, guarded places within our hearts that discourage willingness and scorn curiosity. We may want to know the Lord but we don't want to know the enormity of our own sin. 

If the prophet in this story doesn't reveal it, the prophetess does. Nor will she be denied. Shoved from the room, she would leave a soupçon of her presence. 

Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway was disappointed that news of Septimus' suicide -- a man she had never met and had no interest in -- had disturbed her dinner party. She had spent the entire day preparing for it, right down to the careful choice and placement of flowers, and the story was like a rank odor. Why should someone else's tragedy be her concern? 

"Life," as John Lennon said, "is what happens when you're busy making other plans." 

Grace teaches us to be gracious hosts to intrusions. Because, very often, Truth is intrusive.