In mulierem peccatricem

A discourse of Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium, on the sinful woman who anointed the Lord with myrrh and on the Pharisee. Sufficiently did Christ delight our souls recently when he was a guest at Zacchaeus’s house; for wherever Christ is entertained and reclines with men, partaking of our drink and table, everything is transformed into an occasion of joy. For who, seeing the maker of heaven and earth entering a tax-collector’s roof, or the giver of ears of grain taking human bread in his hands, or the provider of grapes blessing the winepresses by sharing in the drink, would not deem the matter a feast and a festival? This is truly a feast, this is truly the joy of an angelic banquet—to see the master with slaves, God with men, the judge with those under his authority, all enjoying a common table. For this reason he came to earth, not leaving heaven desolate, and became man without divesting himself of being God, so that, sailing the sea, he might draw up from the depths of sin those storm-tossed on the sea of life, and, going about villages and cities, traversing narrow streets, paths, and roads, he might lead back to his own flock those wandering at the crossroads like shepherdless sheep. For he is the one who seeks the lost sheep, who leaves the ninety-nine and comes to search for the one. For he sought the one, neither despising the many nor preferring the one to the multitude.

But the ninety-nine he left behind, for they needed to be securely penned in the fold; the one he went about seeking, lest it become a feast for the devil. For a shepherdless sheep is an easy meal for beasts, and a soul without a seal is easily plotted against by demons. Hence, recently he snatched Zacchaeus like a sheep from the mouth of a wolf, joined him to the fold, and deemed him worthy of the seal. For just as a shepherd, wishing to capture a stray sheep, lets a tame animal loose so that the freely grazing bait may draw the stray quarry, so too did the Word of God, the flesh he assumed from the virgin, like a sheep in pasture, leave at Zacchaeus’s table, so that by the common law of hospitality, drawing him into fellowship, he might imperceptibly unite him with his own flock. But the Pharisees, not understanding this, grumbled seeing him eat with tax collectors. But let them burst like an old wineskin, for they cannot contain the new wine of teaching; we, however, shall follow the compassionate shepherd. For he who joined Zacchaeus the tax collector to the rational flock of the apostles, also drew the sinful woman, the harlot, the worker of countless evils, from the devil’s throat like a lamb and restored her to the inviolate fold. So that you may know both Christ’s compassion and the Pharisees’ irrationality and the sinner’s recantation, I will set before you the very words of the Gospel; for if you listen to the height of the reading, you will easily grasp the meaning of the interpretation. One of the Pharisees, it says, asked Jesus to eat with him.

And entering the house of the Pharisee, he reclined. O ineffable grace! O unspeakable philanthropy! He feasts with Pharisees, does not spurn tax collectors, welcomes prostitutes, converses with a Samaritan woman, deems a Canaanite woman worthy of speech, and yields the hem of his garment to the woman with the issue of blood. Yes, for he is a physician, touching all passions, that he might benefit all, both wicked and good, ungrateful and grateful. Hence also now, invited by the Pharisee, he enters a house for the time being full of evils. For where a Pharisee is, there is a lair of wickedness, a lodging of sin, a receptacle of arrogance. But even with the house in such a state, the Lord does not deem it unworthy to come. Naturally; for just as the sun is not harmed by casting its own rays upon filth, but on the contrary even cleanses the existing foulness while itself suffering no insult, so also Christ, as a sun of righteousness, occupies every polluted and profane place and consumes foul-smelling sin with the rays of his goodness, suffering neither insult, nor diminution, nor defilement according to the principle of his divinity. Hence he readily assented to the inviting Pharisee, remaining calm, silent, leaving his life unexamined. First, that he might sanctify those invited, the inviter, the household’s company, the costly foods; then, showing that the incarnation was not a phantom, by the reclining, the eating, the drinking, the consumption of the foods.

Otherwise, since the prostitute was about to approach and display that fervent and fiery manner of repentance, for this reason he quickly assents to the Pharisee who invites him, so that, having dramatized her own evils before the eyes of scribes and Pharisees, she might teach them how sinners who are gloomy over their sins must propitiate God. "Behold," he says, "a woman in the city, who was a sinner." A woman: the easily slipping nature, the first net of the devil, the introduction of error, the teacher of transgression, who became a helper but was revealed as an enemy, who was by nature beautiful but by choice shown to be evil, the procurer of death, who showed the beauty of the tree and destroyed the whole paradise. "And behold," he says, "a woman in the city, who was a sinner," bearing the burdens of Eve, weighed down by many evils. I will recount the abundance of her former evils, so that you may know the lavishness of her repentance. God, taking a bone from the side of Adam and fleshing it, fashioned Eve, and having called her woman, gave her as a helper to Adam. But after sinning and transgressing the law and being cast out of paradise and receiving death as the penalty, so that the race might not be utterly destroyed, consumed by death, he arrays marriage against death, so that one may sow and the other reap, one may cut and the other sprout. And that the grace of marriage was given after being subjected to death is clear from the fact that Adam was united with Eve after the departure from paradise. For it is written that after leaving paradise, then Adam knew his wife.

Before the sin, then, virginity was preserving the garment of nature unstained, but after the transgression, after the sentence of death, marriage was introduced as a substitute, so that it might conquer death by teeming and overcome it by generating, while death was draining away. Since, then, the law of marriage was given for the succession of the race and for the increase of nature, it implanted pleasure in man and made the female seductive—not so that they might be incited to promiscuous unions, but so that they might be lawfully joined in marriage. Hence, lawful marital intercourse is honored by God, while that performed for the sake of pleasure is subjected to death. For marriage is honorable and the marriage bed undefiled; but fornicators and adulterers God will judge. Therefore, women who lawfully consort with their husbands for the sake of childbearing are blameless, such as Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and any other like them; but those who, for the sake of pleasure, incite young men to licentiousness, as corrupting the temple of God, are given over to corruption. For if anyone, it says, corrupts the temple of God, God will corrupt that one. Among these was this one, the sinner at hand. For she was trafficking her nature and, by external

with dyes reddening her cheeks and forcing herself by artifice to appear beautiful, she would draw young men toward licentiousness, heedlessly inclining them into the abyss of fornication. I say these things not to mock her for what she did before, but to praise her for what she has suddenly become from what she was; for I tell what she was, in order to show what she has now become; I recount the errors of her sin itself, in order to display the achievements of her repentance. But this woman, who formerly did not use her body blamelessly, ensnaring some through her curls, bewitching others through her tears, enchanting others through her ointment, and summoning all from every side to the mire of licentiousness, transforms her shameful and voluptuous passion into a divine and heavenly love. For when she saw Jesus sometimes conversing freely with the Samaritan woman, sometimes receiving the Canaanite woman, at another time proclaiming the theft of the woman with the issue of blood, and here eating with tax collectors, there visiting the houses of the Pharisees, she reasoned: "If he welcomes prostitutes and sinners and tax collectors, how long shall I, frenzied without restraint, draw from the sea of sin? I do not remain young, I do not remain beautiful; for everything passes, everything withers—both flowers and lilies and the beauties of faces. What then shall I suffer for what I have done? Already I contemplate the fire of Gehenna, already repentance seizes my soul, because I ran in the streets of the city, in the marketplaces, in the alleys, forcing myself to appear beautiful for the ruin of young men, having my feet as a net and my tongue as a dragnet. Oh, how many young men I enchanted, casting about a look full of shamelessness!

For she, beautifying herself to the ruin of the spectators, would on one hand pile her head with intricate braids, and on the other let wandering locks from the crown stray over her forehead. At other times she would redden her cheeks and paint her eyes, and at other times she would let fall drops of tears, flattering and throwing the soul headlong. What then am I to become in these circumstances? What physician can I find for these boundless passions? If I tell my condition to men, the manner of my confession becomes useless to me. But shall I conceal my evils? Yet I cannot escape notice; for whom can I hide from, when I am unable to hide from God? Where then shall I flee, finding the judge everywhere—the one who is unseen, yet everywhere convicts me of my evils? One hope of salvation remains for me, one provision for life lies before me: to know Jesus and to run to him. For he who welcomes tax collectors does not reject a prostitute; he who dines with Pharisees does not spurn the tears of a sinner. Since I have learned that he is staying with Simon the Pharisee, a leprous and sinful man, I will run to him. But what shall I ask when I approach? Health of the eyes? But that grace is temporary. Release from disease? But that achievement is small, for eternal death is heavier than the present one. Setting aside all bodily concerns, I will seek the healing of the soul. For I find one remedy for the impending evils: if I see the judge, if I anticipate the time of punishment. I will imitate Rahab the prostitute; I will pursue the virtuous way of a woman. For God wants nothing from us but a change of mind.

Having piously considered these things and anointed her mind with faith, she enters where Jesus was reclining, having taken her former shamelessness as a pretext for boldness. And she says nothing to him; for she did not dare, knowing that the overseer of thoughts has no need of words. For what could she say to the one who knows all things? That she had sinned? That she had become a worker of many evils? That, loving and being loved, she had served the common pleasure? These things were manifest to God, not only when done, but also when laid bare in the hidden council-chamber of the soul. Knowing, then, that he knows all things and that she can hide nothing from him, she bars her tongue but speaks with tears. For, standing, it is said, at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. But even if she did not speak with her tongue, yet with inarticulate groans she uttered the crushing of her heart, revealing the multitude of her sins, parading the depraved thoughts, the accursed intentions, the profane deeds, the lawless associations; for there was none of the evils done by her that she did not dramatize with tears. For she knew that she received amnesty for those things she confessed. For it is said, "I will declare my lawlessness to the Lord, and you have forgiven the impiety of my heart." And not only did she inarticulately utter with the groans of her heart, beseeching the Lord, but also with her posture she delineated the beauty of repentance.

She wept much, as one who had laughed much, washing away her evil laughter with good tears, and with the drops from her eyes cleansing the filth from her cheeks, so that in the very things wherein she had sinned, she might also make her defense, and in the very things wherein she had transgressed, she might appease the lawgiver. For just as David washed away the bed which he had unlawfully defiled with intercourse, by his tears—"For I will wash," he says, "my bed each night, I will drench my couch with my tears"—so also she, through the same eyes with which she had drawn many young men into licentiousness, released streams of tears and washed away the hard-to-clean filth of sin, presenting tears to herself as a bath of repentance. For she provided the tears as water, and invisibly received forgiveness from Christ. And indeed, perhaps not only imitating Abraham but surpassing him, she washed the feet of Christ. For he, having set out a basin, washed with water and wiped with a towel; but she, not drawing water, but releasing fountains of tears, washed the feet of Jesus. And sparing the holy feet from being insulted by sinful tears, she placed the beauty of her hair as a towel and wiped the feet. And one could see the whole woman bent entirely toward the service of Jesus: for her eyes above sent forth channels of tears like springs, and her soul, placed beneath like a basin, received the drops dripping from the feet, and her tresses fulfilled the form of a towel wiping, and her hands, pouring out the alabaster of ointment, anointed the divine feet, honoring the ointment with ointment—"For ointment emptied," it is said, "is your name.

You saw how a sinful woman, without share in divine laws, conquered the thankless mind of the Jews. For they pelted him with stones, but she gladdened him with the perfumes of ointment. But the Jews, as thankless, as senseless and ungrateful, repaid the benefactor with evils, with stones, fawning upon the cornerstone with a stone; but she anointed with myrrh the feet that were to stand for her all day long on the cross's gibbet. And why do I say that she conquered the thankless throng of the Jews, when she even outshot the whole chorus of the saints? For she received a grace that kings did not receive, that rulers did not obtain. For kings of Tarshish and the isles will bring gifts and all the kings of the earth will worship him. And indeed, according to the prophet, they gave gifts and worshipped from afar, but none of them kissed the feet of Jesus. How so? Magi came, taking a star as ally of their guidance, but they brought gifts from afar, knowing the measure of their own rank. For heaven, it says, is my throne, and the earth the footstool of my feet. Let the woman be praised, then, as having received the honor of the whole earth, as having touched the undefiled feet whose dust nations and families will lick, according to the saying that they will lick the dust of his feet. She touched undefiled feet, she shared with John the body of Christ. For he reclined upon the breast, for he was about to imprint divine teaching from there; but she anointed the feet that walk for us. But Christ, who does not judge the sin but praises the repentance, who does not punish the past,

But judging what was to come, he passed over her former evils with amnesty, honors the woman, and praises the repentance, justifies the tears, and crowns the intention. The Pharisee, seeing the wonder, is struck in his mind and, smitten with envy, does not accept the woman’s repentance, but even reviles with abuse the one who thus honored the Lord, and diminishes the dignity of the one honored, condemning him for ignorance. For, it says, the Pharisee who had invited him saw and said to himself: “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who touches him, that she is a sinner.” O foolish and senseless and utter Pharisee! In saying this, you do not expose the woman’s character, but you accuse your own disposition, saying that he did not know who the woman once was. Therefore, you did not honor him by the invitation as a God who knows all things. Are you not ashamed, O splendid accuser and slanderer, that you call him as a God able to bless, yet you cry out against him as a man knowing nothing beyond us? “This man,” he says, “if he were a prophet.” And how much better than you, O Pharisee, is the woman in Shechem, who, not knowing he was a prophet, from first sight gratefully confessed the Savior. For she says, “Lord, I see that you are a prophet.” And how much more admirable than you is this sinful woman, whose sin you see, but whose repentance you do not see. But you also condemn her whom the judge justifies, and you blame and censure her whom God, having accepted, crowns, because, seeing God in human form reclining with you, she recognized and honored him.

and having uncovered the wounds of her soul, she begged for mercy and amnesty for her past life. But you, honoring her with the title, dishonor her with abuse, saying: "If he were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who touches him." Wretch! Because he did not reprove your evils, do you condemn him for ignorance? Because he entered your house, which is weighed down with many evils, do you deny his knowledge? But because you deemed him worthy to enter your house, to recline with you, and to lay his hand on your food, he consented and did not refuse, do you consider him one of the many? Were you worthy to host God or to set a table for the one who prepares a table in the wilderness? But being philanthropic, he did not decline to receive drink and food even from your servants. Why then do you blame a philanthropic master, O Pharisee, who balances the yoke of kindness equally for all? Why do you strain out the gnat of the woman while swallowing the camel of your own evils? And do you wish God to be patient with you, but harsh with her? Why do you provoke the judge over the faults of others, while asking forgiveness for your own? Why have you and Judas conspired to tempt the Lord? For you, as one pure from filth, tearing apart the woman for her sins, condemn God for ignorance, while he, as a lover of the poor, complains, saying: "What is the loss of this myrrh? It could have been sold for much and given to the poor." O the ungrateful mind! O the thankless ways! Do you, Judas, call the healing of Christ a loss and a vain expense what was advanced for the honor of God? How much have we given of what we have received?

Let us consider how many rivers of mercy flow from its nature since the world was revealed, and God does not count the abundance as a loss. How many fragrances does the earth produce? Grasses of roses and lilies, storax, nard, stacte, and the other things from which fine ointment is made. And God does not count it as destruction. And when a small alabaster jar of ointment is poured upon the feet of Christ, do you grumble? Did she not receive it as a gift, that you should grumble? She received ointment and showed a way of repentance; she received tears and established a fountain of sins. What loss is there, then, if the woman was saved, through whom paradise was closed, through whom Adam was cast out? But does this grieve you, Judas? Naturally; for her salvation also grieved the devil. For he saw that through her the race was henceforth turning to repentance, and he is stung and distressed, no longer having a net with which to hunt man; whence he also incited you to grumble. For what purpose, he says, is this waste? For it could have been sold for much. Already a sale, Judas? Already a practice of betrayal, a beginning of evil riddles? But Jesus does not expose his disease, does not lay bare his love of money, so as not to stir up the coming betrayal. And Christ, rebuking, says: Why do you trouble the woman? Why do you revile the woman in addition to her previous evils? The race of women has suffered enough; let no one hinder their salvation, let no one trouble the one who washed with ointment the feet that walked on earth for her sake. For you have the poor with you; take me also among the poor.

For your sake I became poor, though I was rich, so that you might be enriched by my poverty. You betray me and I do not complain; this woman anoints me for burial, and you murmur? For she poured the ointment on my body to prepare me for burial. Are you not ashamed, Judas, that she, though a sinner, honors me with ointments, while you, an apostle, insult me by selling me? And the woman prepares the things for the tomb, while the disciple betrays me to death. The woman is a sinner, I know; but she had nothing to give me except a fountain of tears, propitiating the fountain with a fountain, offering to a destitute teacher an immaterial propitiation. But you also examine, wretch, the ointment worth three hundred denarii, you say; you examine not to praise her magnanimity, because she spent all the wealth gathered from evil deeds on the price of ointment, but to show by murmuring that you have fallen into an undesired evil, having lost so much. But it is no great thing if you are distressed at the loss of three hundred denarii, when you sold me, the Lord, for thirty. 'What,' he says, 'do you wish to give me, and I will hand him over to you?' Wretch, does a slave sell his master? The order is reversed: I buy you from sin with my own blood, while you sell me for thirty obols? Then does a man sell God? Granted that he sells, who is the buyer? And for how much will someone buy God? And why do you make the thing so cheap? Does someone sell God in human form for thirty obols, like a slave, like a barbarian? At least distinguish: how much for the indwelling God, how much for the visible man? 'What,' he says, 'do you wish to give me?' What do you wish to receive?

They have nothing to give that is equal in value to God. And they set before him, it says, thirty pieces of silver. Does one sell a physician for thirty obols, a physician who makes the blind see, who raises the lame to running? I say these things to instruct your mind, that you cause trouble for the woman because she honored him who was free among the dead, even before death, as dead, because through the ointment she prefigured the grace of burial and resurrection. But you will have the rope as the fruit of your betrayal, while her memory, wherever the gospel is proclaimed, will be indelible. He spoke, and the deed happened thus: that the ointment of Aaron, of Eleazar, has ceased and the horn has become idle, but her alabaster jar extends throughout the whole age, having the fragrance of memory inexhaustible. But to Judas he speaks thus, and to the murmuring Pharisee Christ speaks thus: Simon, I have something to tell you. O ineffable grace! O unspeakable philanthropy! God and man converse together, and he sets forth a problem and a rule of philanthropy, dissolving his wickedness. Simon, he says, I have something to tell you; I have to say what I said to none of the ancients, not to a patriarch, not to a prophet, not to a lawgiver. For then they sought an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, demanding justice; but since you cannot bear justice, I introduce grace in exchange for the law, I will tell you an unspeakable mystery. And he says: Teacher, speak. There were two debtors to one man. Behold the wisdom of God.

He is silent about the woman, so as not to corrupt the answer. One, it says, owed five hundred denarii and the other fifty. The manner of the narrative is fearful: our life is a ledger, writing invisibly both thoughts and deeds, and wanderings of the eyes and movements of the soul. But the compassionate lender dissolves the fear, he who tears up the promissory notes of sin and not only tears them up but also smooths them away with the waters of baptism, so that no trace of a letter or syllable remains to become a reminder of past evils. Since they did not have, it says, the means to repay, he forgave both. Do you see a compassionate lender, how he lends but does not recover? And how, when treated ungratefully, he does not grow numb, but his hand is extended to those who ask? Since they did not have, it says, the means to repay, he forgave both. He released them because they did not have, not because they did not wish; for it is one thing not to have and another not to wish. What I mean is this: God seeks nothing from us but repentance, whence he wishes us always to rejoice and to hasten to repentance. If, then, when we wish to repent, the multitude of sins renders our repentance weak, we do not pay the debt because of not having, not because of not wishing. For this reason, then, he says: Since they did not have, to show that, seeing them willing to repay the debt through repentance but unable because of the multitude of sins, as a compassionate man he granted them remission, freeing the debtor from the obligation not by act but by intention. Since they did not have, then, the means to repay, without scourging, without torturing, without subjecting to abuse, he forgave both.

Who then ought to love him more? Simon answered and said: I suppose that it is the one to whom he gave the greater gift. Observe the Pharisee's cunning: when he saw himself already excluded by the word of truth, he inserted "I suppose," fearing to give a definitive answer. But the Lord did not record his opinion; rather, seizing the answer, he says to him: You have answered correctly. And turning to the woman, he said to Simon: Do you see this woman, the sinner, forbidden to you but saved by me? I entered your house—for the house is yours and not mine, full of abuse—you gave no water for my feet, feet that were dust-covered because of you, feet that endured toil in order to free those who toil and are burdened. You offered half the price, admiring the upper parts but not tending to the lower. But you gave no water for my feet, while she, releasing streams of tears from her eyelids, wiped away the filth of her sin. You gave me no kiss—would that Judas had not wrought betrayal with a kiss—but she, from the moment she entered, did not cease kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, for let the oil of a sinner not grease my head. How could you honor the head when you neglected the feet? But she anointed even my feet with myrrh in a prophetic manner: for it is said, "Myrrh poured out is your name"—poured out, not spilled.

For since the vessel of Jewish opinion was unsound, for this reason the myrrh was poured out from your alabaster box at my feet, so that through me the grace of fragrance might be channeled to the nations. For this reason I say to you: Her many sins are forgiven; because you, having received me under your roof, honored me with not even a kiss nor treated me with an ointment, but she, having received forgetfulness of many evils, honored me with tears and myrrh, as if mixing a twofold cup. Let us therefore bless the woman who covered the evils of Eve, the sinful woman, the prostitute, the procurer of good things, the one who showed a way of repentance and laid bare the law of philanthropy, the one who had the judge himself as her advocate, the one who conquered the lament of judgment with tears. Therefore, all who are present, emulate what you have heard, and imitate not the pleasure of the prostitute, but her lamentation. For pleasure gave birth to lamentation, and lamentation procured the release from evils. Wash your body, then, not with waters, but with tears; anoint your limbs not with myrrh, but with chastity. Clothe yourselves not in the fabrics of the Seres, but in the incorruptible garment of temperance, so that you may attain the same glory, sending up grace to the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, to whom are glory and honor, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.