In Luke's version of this story of the unnamed woman, the point is love and forgiveness. Now, forgiveness is a complicated sort of thing, so, of course, I immediately thought of the irreverent routine from Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion Series entitled "Rhubarb Pie." This skit contains a dialogue between Keillor and comedian Paula Poundstone, in which he extols the benefits of Rhubarb Pie for getting the taste of shame and humiliation out of one's mouth. She responds that she has messed up so much that every other person on the street would have to work on a rhubarb plantation. It might even take over the economy. Frankly, she says, you can't spare workers like that. He assures her that one slice of rhubarb pie will fix her right up. Finally, after much ado she says, If you think it will work, I'll get a little to go. She hopes it will do everything he says it will. Keiller insists it will do everything and more. I thought: how great to just eat something and have all guilt and shame erased. Judy Zlatnik baked rhubarb pie for Super Tuesday dinner. If we'd only known its healing properties we all would have been sure to have a slice.

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When my children were small and they were cranky or really "off" I always hoped that it was something physical, so they could take a pill and everything would be better. When illness wasn't the case, I would have to really think about what was going on psychologically or emotionally and through trial and error figure out cause and effect. Sometimes I could figure it out and sometimes I couldn't…but it was always "iffy."

Since I don't really buy the Rhubarb Pie solution, maybe Luke's gospel will offer some help. My first thought on this text was: Didn't we just do this? Yes, I looked it up. We had the gospel of John version of this text on Palm Sunday, different place, different time, the woman is named, and different message, but nevertheless essentially the same story. So, I ask myself, why so much about forgiveness in the Bible? Jesus included it in the only prayer he taught. At his crucifixion Jesus asked for forgiveness for his betrayers. Perhaps Jesus' sentence of "where two or three are gathered in my name, there I will be in the midst of them" should have an addition that says so that forgiveness can take place. Perhaps we should take to heart Walter Wink's admonition when he writes "The roots of violence lie deep within each of us. There is in each of us a vigilante that would kill to retain its position of privilege, however meager; there is a security officer that would love to torture those who have wronged us; there is an informer that would betray friends and even family to save its own skin." When cornered I am sure we are all capable of going into survival mode.

I also wonder…I do a lot of that…why this text on Father's Day? What I come up with when I juxtapose this text and this day is what I need to hear when I consider my parenting. Everyone has a higher expectation of their parenting than the reality that we experience. I don't know about you, but how I raised my children is one of the things that makes me stare at the ceiling on my bed at night and wonder…if I had done this instead of that, would there have been a better outcome? My parenting requires a heavy dose of forgiveness for me to feel comfortable with my short-comings.

Forgiveness sounds easy…just say three little words: I Am Sorry, but the reality is quite different. It turns out that forgiveness is a very complicated matter. Some people have spent a lifetime studying this topic. Some countries have spent centuries trying to outlive wounds inflicted by another. David Augsburger is one who has studied and written a great deal about the subject. He lists at least 8 different forms of forgiveness from Civility which he terms enlightened social tolerance, politeness, to Restitution in which forgiveness is completed by the mutual search for justice, so that the stolen is returned, the injured cared for, the loss recompensed. Where the loss is irreparable, transformative justice seeks to change the relationship as well as the system around it. One gets a sense from this of the complexity, the layers. There is public forgiveness as in the work in South Africa. There is private forgiveness between friends and family members. But there is also self-forgiveness which may be the hardest of all.

One of the things the literature points out is that there is a difference in "accepting" and "forgiving". Acceptance acknowledges that there is good in each person. Forgiveness deals with the wrong a person does. Augsburger suggests 12 propositions for the practice of forgiving which he links inextricably to reconciliation. He suggests that true reconciliation occurs when violence is renounced, when justice sought and victims heard; when innocence is honored, guilt and responsibility admitted, repentance expressed; when rapprochement is risked, and relationship opened. I love this part, in parenthesis, he notes: "It is costly. Both sides must open, both yield, both move, both change." Can you hear that Hamas and Fattah? Can you hear that Sunnis and Shias. Can you hear that Israel and Palestine. Can you hear that US and Russia. Can you hear that, liberals and conservatives. How I wish we could all feel safe enough to hear and act on this road map to peace. Walter Wink comments: "In the end, love of enemies requires trusting God for miracles. If God can forgive, redeem, and transform me, I must also believe that God can work such wonders with anyone."

In our Lukan text today, Jesus both accepts and forgives this anonymous woman with the costly ointment…it is not clear which comes first, the forgiveness or her love for him…one part of the text suggests forgiveness comes first, another suggests love comes first. Whichever, Jesus is capable of both. He goes to the house of Simon, a Pharisee, which goes to show that he is as open to the powerful as he is to the poor. But Simon does not show him hospitality, perhaps the Pharisee is afraid it will get around that he is hanging out with Jesus, so he can tell his friends, yeah, but I didn't show him hospitality…he's trying to have it both ways…that sounds like many power people. But the woman doesn't hedge her bets, she is transformed by the love of Christ and, in response, pours out the costly ointment, bathes Christ's feet with her tears and wipes them away with her hair. What weight must Jesus have lifted from her for her to react that way. Who knows? What must it have taken for her to acknowledge her need? What weight do you hold? I invite each of us to close our eyes and picture something that weighs us down. Get the sense of it…the feel of it…now imagine it being lifted from your being. Now imagine the love of God filling that place, bringing light and breath and hope. Perhaps this gives us a glimpse of what this unnamed woman experienced and helps us understand her reaction.

We have trouble with forgiveness and reestablishing trust. I wish it were as easy as a slice of pie, but we must understand that the deeper the hurt, the greater the process and the longer the time it will take for healing. Sometimes it can take a life time, but Christ seemed able to see into the heart and forgiveness came readily to his lips. Maybe the closest we come to the divine is when we can truly forgive, for in forgiveness new life is given and we are made free, both the forgiven and the forgiver. May we, in this, be like the Divine.