At His Feet

Let's look now at the second of Saint Ignatius' 14 rules, and this one is really key. When the person is living far from God, the enemy tries to make that comfortable, to keep the person in that state, and the good spirit, Ignatius says, stings and bites to awaken the person to a situation that deeply needs to change and to bring the person back to the only real source of our joy, which is God. Now, when a person is living in the other way—and that's going to be, if I may say this reverently, anyone who is a part of this journey through the Spiritual Exercises—you wouldn't be doing this if this was not where your life and your heart are. That is, the person who sincerely does not want sin and wants to grow in the love and service of God. Yes, the just one falls seven times a day.

The Scripture says that at every Mass, we need to ask God's forgiveness, and there's the Sacrament of Confession that we all need. But this is for the person who sincerely does not want sin and wants to love the Lord. This is you. You wouldn't be part of this if you did not want to live this way. Now, it's the enemy who's going to try to discourage, to gnaw, and to bite.

Ignatius uses that graphic word, and to sadden and to trouble with false reasons, and so forth. So remember, when Augustine wants to break the chain and begin to move toward God, he describes beautifully these voices that he hears in his heart. You want to break the chain? You want to turn toward God? How many times have you tried?

How long has it ever lasted? What makes you think it's going to be any different this time? You know yourself. You know you're too weak. You know this will never change.

Very reverently, have any of us ever heard that voice when we've wanted to let go of something which is not good for us spiritually or take new steps to grow toward God? Sure. We all have. I have. You have.

There's no shame in that. But what matters is to understand this so that we know how to reject it—that voice of the enemy. Here is a man who is at 8:00 a.m. Mass on Sunday morning, and he hears an inspiring homily in which the priest invites the parishioners to consider praying with Scripture for ten minutes every morning using the daily readings, we'll say. And this really speaks to his heart. He feels God's closeness.

He decides he's going to do it. And his wife has been doing this for a long time. He knows all he needs to do is ask her help and she'll get him started. So he resolves that tonight, when the children are in bed, he'll speak with his wife and get started the next morning. The day goes on—a discouraging email from work, let's say, a tense conversation at supper with his teenage son that doesn't resolve well.

And now, let's say it's 9:30. He's in his study at home, and he remembers that he was going to speak with his wife and get started. But there's the voice: Who are you kidding? You've never prayed with the Bible. What makes you think you're even going to understand it?

You know yourself. You get these little enthusiasms. They don't last. Why speak with your wife, get her all happy and excited, just to disappoint both of you a week later when it all falls apart? Okay.

Have we ever heard voices like that? Sure. And there's no shame in hearing them. But what matters is to identify them as the lies of the Enemy that they are and not let them stop us. And you see, a lot depends on this.

If this man speaks with his wife and begins the next day, or if he doesn't, this life of prayer is going to look very different in one case and the other. And in such persons, Ignatius says, the good spirit gives courage and strength, inspiration, showing the way forward. So it's the good spirit who shows this man, yes, I could start this, and I can do it if I speak with my wife, and I'm going to do it tonight. When Augustine hears that discouraging voice, he also tells us that there's another voice that speaks in his heart that says, no. Look, look at all these others who have done it.

They were no stronger than you. They had the same humanity that you have. It was God's strength. It's not your strength that matters here. Trust in Him.

He won't let you down. And that's what helps Augustine break the chain. So expect the discouraging voice of the enemy, identify it, reject it, and open your heart to receive the encouraging, life-giving, strength-infusing voice of the Good Spirit. Our text is the encounter of the woman with Jesus in the Pharisee's house when she washes His feet with her tears. So now let's just let our hearts be at peace and hear these words.

Jesus, looking upon him, looking upon her, loved him, loved her, loves him, loves her. And allow the Lord now to speak this word to our hearts so that we may grow in knowledge and love and a deeper following of Jesus. And let's be there as this happens in the Pharisee's home. The Pharisee invited Him to dine with him, and He entered the Pharisee's house and reclined at table. Now there was a sinful woman in the city who learned that He was at table in the house of the Pharisee.

Bringing an alabaster flask of ointment, she stood behind Him at His feet weeping and began to bathe His feet with her tears. When the Pharisee who had invited Him saw this, he said to himself, If this man were a prophet, He would know who and what sort of woman this is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner. Jesus said to him in reply, Simon, I have something to say to you. Tell me, Teacher, he said. Two people were in debt to a certain creditor.

One owed five hundred days’ wages and the other owed fifty. Since they were unable to repay the debt, he forgave it for both. Which of them will love him more? Simon said in reply, “The one, I suppose, whose larger debt was forgiven.” He said to him, “You have judged rightly.”

Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has bathed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with ointment. 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. He said to her, "Your sins are forgiven." The others at table said to themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?" But he said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you. Go in peace."

So we are there, and we see the Pharisee’s house. It’s comfortable, well arranged, the room where the dining takes place, the table in the center, probably that U-shaped table the way they did, with the guests reclining around it. The servants bring food, and Jesus is there, and I’m there too. And then I see this woman of the city who was a sinner, and that’s the single way she is described. And I can see her alone, shunned, scorned, looked upon simply as a sinner.

And I feel the shame and the pain in her heart, her sense of failure. I see how each harsh word, each scornful look cuts deeply into her heart. I sense now the overpowering need in her for a heart that will not condemn, that will not reject, that will understand the pain and confusion, that will perceive and assist the desire to change. And perhaps in various ways in my own life, I too know that need. And she's heard of this new Rabbi who eats with sinners, who chooses to be with the poor and the weak, and a hope awakens in her, perhaps in me as well.

And the gesture of courage involved is remarkable. She enters the Pharisee’s house uninvited and not only unwanted, knowing that by so doing, she will bring upon herself the scorn and rejection of all. “If this man were a prophet, he would know what sort of woman,” and so forth. But she comes because of the great hope that she has that at least that one heart will not reject her.

And she says nothing. She approaches Jesus. She says everything with her actions. Her tears fall. And perhaps at this point, I may pause in the prayer just to consider those tears.

The tears of a heart that, for the first time perhaps in its life, knows itself understood, welcomed, received, accepted, healed, made new for a new life. I look upon Jesus’ face as He sees her tears. What does she see in His eyes as their gaze meets? What do I see in His eyes? She dries His feet with her hair.

She kisses His feet. She anoints them with the ointment. And I see all of this. And then I hear the parable to Simon: Simon, I have something to say. One who owed 500, the other 50.

Do you see this woman? Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. And then these beautiful final words to her: Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace. And I allow the Lord simply now to speak to me through this passage, to learn of Him as I see Him meet human weakness and sinfulness and desire to change, and how He pours love and blessing and healing into a heart that is burdened with pain.

We'll conclude by reading just the very beginning of the Dialogues of Saint Catherine of Siena. When I first read this, I was struck by the power of the way this begins. And she says—it just immediately moves into her text—a soul rises up, restless with tremendous desire for God's honor and the salvation of souls. She has for some time exercised herself in virtue and become accustomed to dwelling in the cell of self-knowledge. Sometimes you and I are afraid of self-knowledge because it seems to us that self-knowledge means principally having to acknowledge my failures.

Self-knowledge, rightly understood, is the happiest thing in our lives because if we know ourselves for what we truly are—as beloved in the Father's heart, beloved sons and daughters—then everything else will follow. Become accustomed to dwelling in the cell of self-knowledge in order to know better God's goodness toward her, since upon knowledge follows love. And loving, she seeks to pursue truth and clothe herself in it. And now Catherine points to prayer, which is the key way to proceed on this journey. But there is no way she can so savor and be enlightened by this truth as in continual, humble prayer.

Continual humble prayer. There is no way she can so savor and be enlightened by this truth as in continual humble prayer grounded in the knowledge of herself and of God. For by such prayer, the soul is united with God, following in the footsteps of Christ Crucified. And through desire and affection and the union of love, He makes of her another Himself. Nothing more beautiful could be said of us.

And may God grant us to move toward that realization in our lives. Amen.