Yesterday I had the opportunity to do what I've done many times before - welcome visitors to Grace. We hosted the Diakonia graduation service. Twelve students from throughout our Synod had completed their two year course of study; proud family members, their friends and their pastors were here to celebrate with them. Our Bishop was also here.

My task for the day was simple: I was given two minutes to share words of welcome. Fortunately, our church building had already been "talking." By that I mean the aroma of coffee permeated the air when the visitors arrived. The fact we are handicapped accessible also says, "Welcome." Everything was neat, the landscaping attractive, the air conditioning was working. All say, "Welcome." The building is easy to navigate and the restrooms clearly marked. This too says, "welcome." I overheard one person, "This church is like a hospitality suite." I just thought, "Sweet!" So yes, my 120 seconds of welcome was simple.

Plus this. I was very familiar with our Gospel text for today, and I knew I would get high marks if Tim the Pastor could come off as the "altar ego" (pun intended), the altar ego of Simon the Pharisee. I wanted to come off as the opposite of Simon, who threw a dinner party, then threw a tantrum, and then wanted to throw out one of the participants.

Simon is a good and righteous man with a keen nose for sniffing out right and wrong, good and bad. And when this lady of the night visits his home one evening as Simon entertains the young rabbi from Nazareth, Simon's displeasure is immediately evident. He knows the woman's past. Who doesn't? Well, obviously the Rabbi, Jesus. Otherwise, he surely would not be allowing this shameful exhibition to go on about Him. The lady is crying, wetting his feet with her tears. Drying his feet with her own long tresses, one of the symbols of the trade. And then she breaks the vial of ointment around her neck and anoints his feet and all this is getting to be too much for the Pharisee with the self-righteous air about him. He thinks "Jesus can not possibly be a prophet; otherwise, he would know 'what' this woman is: a seller of love."

Yes, Simon sees what the woman has been; Jesus sees only who the woman can be - in fact, already has become! Evidently the woman has heard the preaching of Jesus, sharing God's concern for the last and the least and the lost. And what she got from the word of the Lord was not some sermon on what she must do in order for God to forgive her. What she heard was merely that God loves her. Get that. Merely that God loves her. The sheer force of God's love freely given to her, causes her dinner party outpouring of tears and affection for the Lord! Her tears are not shed in begging for forgiveness. Rather, they are tears of joy, offered with the knowledge that already God loves her! Surely, the oddest of notions for one in the oldest of professions - that she could be loved for who she was, rather than for what she had to offer. But then again - this is the Gospel of the Lord! Jesus says to the self-righteous Pharisee, "I tell you, the great love this woman has shown proves her many sins have been forgiven."

In his commentary on our text, the biblical scholar and marvelous preacher, Fred Craddock, wonders where one goes when told to go in peace as Jesus instructs this woman to do at the end of our story. "What she needs," Craddock says, "is a community of forgiven and forgiving sinners. The story," he says, "screams the need for a church, one that says you are welcome here." She had such a welcome from Jesus. Would she be welcome here? Is this a community that extends "welcome" in the name of Jesus? In my mind, there is little doubt this is the case.

In Hebrews 13:2, these familiar words are found: "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing, some have entertained angles unawares." Too bad for Simon that he refused to show hospitality, because entertaining angels must be such a joy. I know. Yesterday I had the opportunity. Yesterday, in your name, I welcomed the stranger.

I'm going to update an old legend about Judas that speaks to the hospitality of our God - extended graciously to you and me. After his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. He wept. His repentance and shame ran as deep as the pit. Finally spent, he looked up and saw way, way up a tiny glimmer of light. He began to try to climb up towards the light. The walls of the pit were slippery, but after great effort, he neared the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around the table. "We've been waiting for you," said James and John in unison. "Welcome friend," said Simon Peter. The other disciples greeted Judas, and then Jesus said, "The party couldn't start until you arrived."

One can almost imagine a conversation between Simon and God. Simon looks at this woman of loose clothing and lost morals and says to God, "Look at this woman and the way she lives. If she were my daughter, I would punish her with the fires of Hell!" And God gently replies, "Ah Simon, she is not your daughter. She is my daughter."

We are the ones to whom much has been forgiven! The words of forgiveness echo down through history from the chambers of an empty tomb to the chambers of our thankful hearts! It's this overwhelming sense of joy and optimism that allows the people of this congregation to be so hospitable in welcoming the stranger. Sweet!