Hosting Jesus: Revisiting Luke’s ‘Sinful Woman’ (Luke 7.36-50) as a Tale of Two Hosts

3.1 Forming the First Cycle of Hospitality

Despite Jesus’ homeless and itinerant status, the gospels, including Luke, focus on meal scenes, not on overnight lodging extended to Jesus: Luke seems to be almost interested in disassociating Jesus from staying in other people’s houses (pace Cadbury 1926). Jesus has no place in the κατάλυμα at his birth, his overnight stay in Simon’s house is more implied than described (Lk. 4.42), and he does not seem to stay overnight either with Martha/Mary or Zacchaeus. The καταλύμα offered for the Passover (22.11) will not be needed for the night, because Jesus spends the night at the Mount of Olives κατὰ τὸ ἔθος (v. 39), something he was said to do in Lk. 21.37 (ηὐλίζετο). If Cadbury’s theory of reading συναυλιζόμενος (‘living together with sb. in the open’) for συναλιζόμενος (‘eating together or gathering’) in Acts 1.4 is correct, then the Lukan Jesus continued his habit of camping in the open after his resurrection (1926: 310-17). He certainly does not need the overnight hospitality offered by the travellers on the route to Emmaus, but vanishes beforehand (Lk. 24.31). In contrast, the staying (μενεῖν) of the disciples in other people’s houses is carefully regulated (9.1-6; 10.1-12), and the second part of Acts is full of precise lodging descriptions (e.g., Acts 16. 11-15; 21.3-6; 21.7-16).

In our pericope, Jesus is not an unknown and potentially divine stranger. ¹² Instead, he already has some degree of celebrity, if not notoriety, attached to his person: Luke relates the irritation among Pharisees and scribes caused by Jesus’ table fellowship with tax-collectors and sinners (5.30). But equally Jesus has been hailed as ‘a great prophet’ in Luke 7.16, and there are a number of echoes and allusions to the great deeds of Elijah and Elisha in Lk. 7. ¹³

Despite his mixed reputation, Jesus receives an invitation by a Pharisee in 7.36, something that will be twice repeated in chs. 11 and 14. Such conviviality between Pharisees and Jesus is unique to Luke’s gospel. ¹⁴

Luke carefully situates his narrative in the context of a dinner. One of the Pharisees extends an invitation (7.36) to which Jesus responds positively: he enters the house and reclines. ¹⁵ A cycle of hospitality has been established. Jesus is clearly not the travelling stranger either, one who deserves unconditional hospitality by virtue of sacred obligation. And although his visit at the home of Mary and Martha (Lk. 10.38-42) might be seen as a visit with friends or people of the same network, his invitation by the Pharisee cannot be easily read along those lines. Furthermore, Jesus, being homeless, will never reciprocate by inviting the Pharisee to his own place in due course. ¹⁶ It may well be that Jesus, the perennial but not unknown guest, comes close to the category of the beggar, perhaps a ‘holy beggar’ whom Pitt-Rivers describes as having close proximity to the figure of the guest. ¹⁷

However, in contrast to a beggar, it is the giver, the host, who is pro-active and who seeks out and formally invites Jesus to his house. Jesus’ status most likely can be compared to a guest of honour, who does not necessarily have to reciprocate over time, since the gifts the host brings with him, such as high status, wisdom, special gifts or a special closeness to the divine already establish a cycle of reciprocity. The kind of reciprocity at play here is best described as one of immediately balanced reciprocity.

While we do not know what exactly Simon expected to get in return for his invitation, it is probably not far-fetched to think that Jesus’ invitation depended upon the understanding that Jesus was a prophet. ¹⁸

3.2 The First Cycle of Hospitality Disturbed

The meal as such is not described, but the Pharisee’s role as host is recalled in 7.39 (ὁ καλέσας αὐτον) and a description of non-hospitality is given in vv. 44-46. ¹⁹ As in the genre of the symposium, the narrative is dominated by a discussion where the guest of honour, Jesus, takes on the host. ²⁰ In Plato or Xenophon this guest of honour is obviously Socrates (cf. Plato, Symp. 86-87; Xenophon, Symp. 380-83), but Luke attributes this role to Jesus.

As in the Hellenistic symposia, there is a fait divers which triggers the discussion (Steele 1984: 381). The incident with the woman makes Simon revise his view of Jesus and therefore the rationale of his invitation. Simon’s muttering to himself in v. 37, ‘If this man were a prophet he would not let a sinful woman touch him …’, signals that the cycle of reciprocity between Simon the host and Jesus the guest has become dangerously precarious.

The person who has caused the crisis is the unnamed woman ἐν τῇ πόλει ἁμαρτωλός. Who is she? Many exegetes, though not all, tend to think she is a prostitute because of her urban working environment and her ability to buy perfumed oil (μύρον). ²¹ Alternatively, she has been viewed as a courtesan, a well-known female figure at a Hellenistic banquet. However, as Reid points out, the woman does not do ‘any of the things that banquet courtesans were known to do: engage in witty conversation or discussion with the banqueters, drink with them, recline beside them, dance, act, play the flute or harp, or in any way entertain’. ²² More importantly, she has not been invited. On the narrated level, a Pharisaic household inviting or tolerating a woman like this would be completely unheard of and raise ‘issues of ritual purity’. ²³ Even if she is not a professional provider of erotic or sexual services, her actions, including loosening her hair in public, touching, kissing and perfuming Jesus’ feet, likely have erotic, certainly intimate connotations.

Green in particular describes the woman’s ‘letting her hair down in this setting … on a par with appearing topless in public …’ ²⁴ In marked contrast, Cosgrove suggests a reading which sees the combination of open hair, tears and kneeling as a gesture of deep reverence and love towards a deity or high-status person (2005). If Green’s view is correct, it is only the weeping, unique to Luke’s version of the anointing, which points in another direction and ‘mitigates the erotic overtones of the story’. ²⁵ Its meaning is somewhat open and has variously been explained as an expression of repentance, joy, or simply sorrow and distress. ²⁶ The latter is probably the most likely, since in Luke’s wider gospel κλαίεῖν is always an expression of grief, which is usually met with the promise of salvation (Lk. 6.21; 8.52; 7.13). Twice there is problematic (non-)weeping, either because it is not happening when it would be appropriate (Lk. 7.32) or because its focus is wrong (Lk. 23.28). Repentance is not foregrounded in any of these occurrences. ²⁷

While any implicit or explicit eroticism would simply deepen the notion of scandal, the crucial point is that the woman, known to be a sinner, touches intimately somebody who is supposedly a prophet. ²⁸ Yet it is not the woman who first and foremost meets with Simon’s disapproval, but Jesus, who has failed as a prophet in Simon’s eyes by not knowing who is touching him. ²⁹ For Simon it must have been a bit like realizing that he has invited a bard who cannot sing. ³⁰ In short, this potentially embarrassing incident for Jesus is, by implication, also shameful for his host. However, the guest takes no action at all, being faced with this assault on his own and on his host’s honour. ³¹

3.3 Forming a New Cycle of Hospitality

Despite the crisis, Simon still respectfully addresses Jesus as διδάσκαλε (teacher) when Jesus solemnly seeks his attention in v. 40. Jesus proves to be every inch the prophet by guessing Simon’s thoughts and countering them with the parable about the two debtors. ³² He praises Simon for giving a correct response, as a teacher would with a student. ³³ All this makes Jesus the sovereign character, but not yet the host. ³⁴ Jesus’ response is certainly bold but not scandalous, especially not when compared to Greek symposia where the ‘chief guest would best his host, but this would (and should) not involve a breach of the basic rules of hospitality’. ³⁵ In fact, we shall see that Jesus stubbornly remains in his role as a guest, even though the welcome he received was found wanting by him. ³⁶

The parable about the two debtors is told in a plain and generalized style without any concrete details given. The complete cancelling of debts is startling, and the hearers might question whether there is ever love between a creditor and a debtor. The ‘Bildhälfte’ is dominated by God’s eschatological offer of forgiveness (Bovon 1989: 393). The tertium comparationis is the relief and liberation when an unpayable debt is waived and unbearable sins are forgiven. ³⁷

But it is clear that Luke prepares for the later section on forgiveness, where the term ἀγαπᾶν is important and will form a significant verbal connection between the parallel and the application in v. 47. ³⁸ More cancelling or gracious giving (χαρίζομαι) leads to more loving (ἀγαπᾶν; vv. 42b, 43a). Correspondingly, more forgiving (ἀϕιημι) leads to more loving (ἀγαπᾶν; v. 47).

The parable has sometimes been seen as a Lukan insertion, which accounts for the perceived complications about the precise chronology between forgiveness and love. ³⁹ However, I would like to identify vv. 44-46, which are obviously closely connected to the parable, as giving the narrative its most important and unexpected twist. Without these verses, the storyline would read as follows:

A host invites a guest. The meal has just started when it is interrupted by an embarrassing intruder. The guest does nothing to restore both his own and the host’s honour. The host feels disappointed and ashamed. The guest of honour turns to the host and explains in a brief parable that just as a debtor who has more debts cancelled shows more ‘love’, so a sinner, who has more sins forgiven, shows more love. The guest then explains that the intruder’s actions are the love expressed by a forgiven sinner and adds without targeting anybody: the one who is forgiven little loves little. Thus, the intruder’s actions are explained in a way to make her look more honourable, Jesus’ reputation is likewise restored, and by implication so is Simon’s.

This storyline is frequently represented in commentaries, especially older ones. As Byrne puts it, ‘much is made of Jesus’ kindness to this repentant sinner and edifying reflections drawn from it’ (2000: 74). The woman’s extravagant behaviour is explained and excused as either a deeply self-humbling repentance of a person seeking forgiveness or deeply grateful response to Jesus’ prior offer of forgiveness, largely depending on the exegetes’ denominational affiliations. ⁴⁰ However, μετάνοια and μετανοέω are not used in this narrative, despite Luke’s preference for both the topic of repentance and this kind of vocabulary. ⁴¹ In contrast to characters such as the younger son (Lk. 15.11-32), Zacchaeus (19.1-10) and the man crucified with Jesus (23.39-43), the woman makes no solemn acknowledgment of her guilt (cf. Lk. 15.18-19; 23.40) or promise of amendment of life (cf. 19.8).

To be sure, for Luke forgiveness implies repentance, which is nothing dishonourable at all in the third gospel. ⁴² This accounts for Luke’s distinctive end to the story, where Jesus solemnly pronounces forgiveness and even dismisses the woman (vv. 48-50). ⁴³ Luke clearly transcends the hospitality scene at this stage, even moving beyond the cycle of hospitality between Jesus and the woman. Still, this final high note does not mean that the entire episode should be read as a unilateral giving by Jesus. Instead it serves to characterize Jesus as God’s unique broker of forgiveness, but builds on the notion that this forgiveness has been acknowledged and received in a context of mutual giving and receiving.

It is in this context that Simon and the unknown woman are both related to Jesus in more or less successful cycles of hospitality. Without these contrasting cycles, Simon would be a pious though critical bystander, who watches this artefact of exemplary sin and forgiveness with amazement and hopefully growing understanding.

However, vv. 44-46 pull Simon back into the story, not as an onlooker but as an agent, or rather, as we are about to learn, as a failed agent. As elsewhere in Luke’s gospel, we have a triangular structure where Jesus or God, a recipient of Jesus’ or God’s favour and a grumbling third party are the main actors. ⁴⁴ This story is very much about hosting Jesus appropriately. ⁴⁵ Byrne aptly sums up the situation by stating that ‘Jesus, the divine visitor to the world, comes as guest to this house but receives little or no hospitality from the one who as host ought to have provided it’ (2000: 75).

After interpreting the woman’s gestures as love of a forgiven sinner, Jesus reads them in a further move as gestures of hospitality. ⁴⁶ Item for item, bit by bit, Simon is related to the unnamed woman as a host to a rival host, who is shown up as deeply wanting in comparison:

As before, Simon relates to Jesus as a host to a guest, but he is now exposed as a not very good host. At this point, Simon is widely accused by exegetes of a ‘glaring neglect of the deeply ingrained laws of hospitality’ (Green 1997: 308): Green observes that ‘[t]his woman fulfills the role expected of Simon, and thus shames Simon as a host who did not honour his guest’ (1997: 313). Byrne states that ‘Simon the host does not even offer the most basic gestures of hospitality’ (2000: 73). Neyrey calls this incident an example of negative reciprocity, seeing in Lk. 7.44-46 ‘hints at good practices which accompany certain meals’ (1991: 371). Bailey interprets Simon’s omissions as intentional insult (1980: 8). Gowler notes that ‘Simon’s reception of Jesus is at best lukewarm and at worst shameful’. ⁴⁸ Talbert has Jesus say, ‘Although, Simon, you did not act discourteously but were correct enough as a host, you did not perform any special acts of hospitality’ (1982: 87; Bovon 1989: 394). Arterbury is more moderate by dryly noting that ‘[t]he delinquent host does, at least, provide food for his guest’ (2005: 139). Mullen also advises caution, remarking that ‘since there is no indication in this passage that Jesus had journeyed any distance, the courtesy would have been unnecessary’ (2004: 120).

But how serious really was Simon’s failure as a host in his cultural context? Though hospitality to travellers, friends and honourable figures was sacred in Jesus’ culture, we must not treat Jesus’ words as a checklist for the average host. ⁴⁹ Arterbury, for instance, lists an extensive catalogue of Jewish and Greek evidence for the custom of footwashing, but can only think of Ps. 23.5 when it comes to anointing a guest’s head. ⁵⁰ How widespread was the custom of anointing a guest?

In the LXX, ἐλαιον is part of the basic goods necessary for life, which are celebrated in the harvest, often together with wine and wheat (e.g., Deut. 7.13; Hag. 1.11; Joel 2.19; Hos. 2.25; Ezra 6.9). Although the more spectacular uses are ceremonial, such as the anointing of kings (1 Sam. 10.1; 2 Kgs 9.6) and priests (Exod. 29.7), oil is often simply used during an ordinary process of getting clean, fresh and well-groomed (e.g., Sus. 1.15-17; Jdt. 10.3: ἐχρίσατο μύρῷ). ⁵¹ In that sense, anointing is not necessarily extravagant, but is nevertheless connected to times when life is good and peaceful (cf. the blessing in Eccl. 9.8 and, negatively, the threat in Mic. 6.15). Oil and anointing can be contrasted with mourning or fasting as symbols of abundance and gladness (cf. 2 Sam. 14.2; Isa. 61.3; Jdt. 10.3; Dan. 10.3; Ps. 45.2: the oil of gladness; also cf. Mt. 6.17). In its refined form as μύρον or νάρδον, oil can be a synonym of luxury and beauty (Song 1.12; 4.14), but equally a symbol of corrupt wealth or effeminate behaviour (cf. Wis. 2.7: οἴνου πολυτελοῦς καὶ μύρων πλησθῶμεν; Amos 6.6, wine and πῶτα μύρα χριόμενοι and Seneca, Herc. fur. 465-71: somebody cannot be called fortis, whose hair is dripping with nard).

Offering oil to a guest is rarely mentioned. Strack-Billerbeck cites R. Meir, who mentions the encouragement to ‘anoint yourself’ as the possible friendly gesture of a host (Str-B, I: 426-29, esp. 427). Xenophon tells of a symposium where Socrates’ host offers to complement the delightful tastes, sights and sounds by the lovely scent of μύρον. Socrates, however, turns this down as extravagant and unmanly (Xenophon, Symp. 2.3-4).

The anointing of feet is even less attested. There is a legend in Sifre on Deut. 33.24 where an immensely wealthy Jew stuns his guests by having their feet washed in oil instead of water. This is far from a reference to a widely observed custom. In the Odyssey, an old servant washes and anoints Odysseus’s feet (Homer, Od. 19.503-507). According to Aristophanes, a daughter washes and anoints her father’s feet (Wasps 606-609). In Petronius’s Satyricon 70 we find the following interesting remark: ‘I am ashamed to tell you what followed: in defiance of all convention, some long-haired boys brought ointment in a silver basin, and anointed our feet as we lay, after winding little garlands round our feet and ankles’. ⁵²

If we sum up and evaluate all these observations, we can state that, if olive oil was used as part of the overall ‘refreshment’ process, it is not far-fetched to assume that it was sometimes offered to a guest, most likely to be self-applied in small quantities. However, evidence is scarce and ‘[t]here is no evidence that provision for it at a meal was de rigeur’ (Evans 1990: 364).

The few examples of the anointing of feet usually seem connected to the act of foot washing. They might express faithful service, intimacy and occasionally embarrassment, depending on the situation and the persons involved. ⁵³ Μύρον certainly has a whiff of luxury, since it is more expensive than ἐλαιον, although Luke avoids drawing attention to the cost of the ointment. ⁵⁴

The woman’s third gesture, the continued kissing of Jesus’ feet, likely expresses the same ambiguity between intimacy, or even deep reverence, and embarrassing eroticism. Again, kisses and kissing are regularly talked about in the LXX, not simply between lovers (Song 1.2; Prov. 7.13) but also between fathers and sons (Gen. 48.10), between brothers (33.4) or prospective family members (29.11). To judge from the horror at treacherous kisses (Prov. 27.6; cf. Lk. 22.48 and parallels), kisses symbolize loyalty and affection. They are especially powerful and at times very emotional when they seal an act of reconciliation between estranged kin (e.g., Esau and Jacob; Gen. 33.4). Once again, the exchange of a kiss between a host and a guest was probably nothing strange, but we cannot assume it was an expected custom.

The kissing of feet is very rarely attested. Xenophon mentions two generals who kiss the hands and feet of their lord Kyros and weep out of joy and relief to see him alive (Xenophon, Cyrop. 7.5.32). Like the emotional scenes in Genesis, these kisses symbolize affection and loyalty, which reach a new pitch in the face of prior loss. In this case, kissing the feet no doubt expresses heightened reverence. In contrast, Epictetus’s mentioning of a man who flirts with his handsome young slave and kisses his feet (οὐδποτ᾽αυτοῦ τοὺς πόδας κατεϕίλησας) has clear erotic overtones. ⁵⁵ In addition, κάταϕιλεῖν is a more emphatic form than ϕίλεῖν. ⁵⁶

Summing up these observations, we can say the following: the woman’s actions could likely be deciphered on a spectrum between intimate affection, even emotional gestures of reverence, and scandalous eroticism. ⁵⁷ But they cannot really be read as gestures of hospitality. This is something that, astonishingly, escapes most exegetes’ attention. While some of the woman’s actions, such as the use of perfume, show effort and lavishness, others do not. ⁵⁸

In fact, some of the gestures that are singled out as praiseworthy by Jesus – the ongoing actions, the repeated kisses, the very long anointing – would actually be slightly awkward in a hospitality scene, to say the least. ⁵⁹ It would very likely not be deciphered as generous hospitality. There is a strong element of fictitiousness in Jesus’ interpretation; the woman is, for instance, not in her own place. To picture tears replacing a basin full of water demands a considerable stretch of the imagination. Jesus thus imaginatively reframes the scene by interpreting the woman’s ambiguous gestures as the deeds of a generous host. It is only in retrospect that we can see these actions as gestures of lavish hospitality. ⁶⁰ Just as in Mark’s anointing scene, we have an intriguing ‘Leerstelle’ concerning the woman’s own intention. ⁶¹ The precise connotations of her disruptive and potentially embarrassing actions are not clarified by herself. ⁶² Instead, it is Jesus who disambiguates her actions and closely connects them with his own career and mission. ⁶³ In Mark’s case, the anointing of the head, which is reminiscent of the anointing of kings, is reinterpreted with approval by Jesus as the anointing for his burial. ⁶⁴ The woman is singled out as somebody who has her eyes firmly on the cross and anoints Jesus as the suffering Messiah. In Luke, the woman’s gestures might be a seriously embarrassing fondling of Jesus’ feet with strong erotic overtones or an activity of deep, loving reverence and surrender. In either case, Jesus affirms her activities as both loving and appropriate – as appropriate in fact as the efforts made by a good host to honour his guest. ⁶⁵ Here, the woman is singled out as somebody who has her eyes firmly on Jesus, as the saviour for sinners. ⁶⁶ She is reconstructed as an able host who properly welcomes Jesus, God’s visitor from on high, as the guest of honour. The woman rightly receives Jesus as God’s saviour who brings the gift of forgiveness.

Jesus’ presentation of the woman’s actions as gestures of hospitality is of course duly noted by commentators, but the radical conclusion – that by doing so Jesus construes her as his host, and receives from her – is less-heartily endorsed. Some exegetes see the emphasis in Jesus’ words and deeds in generously stretching the mantle of God’s mercy to include even those who are from the margins. ⁶⁷ Heil is representative of this group by seeing Jesus as taking over the role of the host ‘who transforms the uninvited woman into an honored guest’ (1999: 52). Similarly, Koenig suggests that Jesus is ultimately seen as acting as a guest both for the woman and for Simon, by forgiving one and teaching the other. ⁶⁸ Other scholars are more nuanced, but like to see Jesus as the strong agent, the resourceful offering to the under-resourced. ⁶⁹ Gowler, who, like others, is very alert to the triangular structure, nevertheless does not emphasize the status of the woman as Jesus’ host. Instead, Gowler finds a role for her as Jesus’ client in a patron–client relationship (1991: 225). Stuart Love, on the other hand, shows exceptional clarity of the consequences of seeing the woman’s gestures as hospitable by stating that ‘by allowing the woman to touch him, Jesus receives and reciprocates the woman’s hospitality … and simultaneously challenges Simon’s worldview’. ⁷⁰

But this widespread perception of Jesus providing for a needy character obscures the drama of a new cycle of hospitality being formed, where the woman and Jesus stand in a dynamic relationship of reciprocity and mutuality. By approaching Jesus with reckless gestures of love, this woman hosts Jesus properly, as God’s salvific agent. In her giving, she makes room for her receiving. Jesus in turn honours her as a resourceful host whose gifts he gladly receives. ⁷¹

By hosting Jesus as the ‘friend of sinners’ (Lk. 7.34), the woman has rightly perceived and honoured Jesus’ exalted status. ⁷² She has in that sense reached a higher degree of Christological recognition than Simon, the original host, who hoped to host a prophet. ⁷³

3.4 Holding the Original Cycle in Suspense

It is thus not the guest of honour who has usurped the role of host; he has nominated an intruder as his new and better host. But where does this leave Simon, the original and literal host?

Just as the woman’s ‘hospitality’ can only be seen through Jesus’ words, Simon’s failure can only be discerned from this perspective. No matter whether Simon only did the minimum or completely failed Jesus as his guest, it is in comparison with the woman’s action that it becomes ὀλιγον, ‘just a little’. Bovon very nicely captures the situation by having Jesus say: ‘She has done more than what you have not done’. ⁷⁴

Simon learns that neither the woman nor Jesus but he himself has weakened the cycle of hospitality by either showing only a little or no love at all. ⁷⁵ This love is the attitude that is apt in the face of God’s generous forgiveness. Simon cannot properly host his guest and the gift of forgiveness that he brings, because he does not know how to love him. He wants to entertain a potential prophet, but he fails to embrace the messenger of salvation. ⁷⁶ And so, the original host, ὁ καλέσας (v. 39), who saw his hopes of entertaining a prophet dashed, seems to end up in an uncomfortable space; his future role as giver and recipient of goods in the cycle of hospitality is completely open. ⁷⁷ His restoration to the place of somebody who properly hosts Jesus is completely dependent on his proper understanding of the woman’s actions.

Just as he misjudged Jesus’ identity by misjudging the woman as only a sinner, his proper recognition of Jesus as the saviour of sinners must come about through a proper recognition of the woman as a resourceful, loving host: ‘If he can see her this way’, writes Barbara Reid, ‘then he may perceive Jesus aright: not only as prophet, but also as the agent of God’s forgiving love’ (1995: 38).