The Rest of the Story

Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him - that she is a sinner." -Luke 7.39

Radio commentator Paul Harvey made a name for himself by telling "the rest of the story." He would spin a yarn, take it up to an intriguing point, and then intone, "And now for the rest of the story." This innocent coda always contained a startling plot-twist that put the entire narrative in a new light.

Something like that idea runs through this little tale, which Luke alone preserves out of the many traditions of Jesus. Simon the Pharisee faults Jesus' prophetic bona fides because the Nazarene does not know "the rest of the story." If this man were a prophet: The underlying grammar silently adds the conclusion, "which he obviously is not." Because if he were, he would know the rest of the story - a lurid tale of trailer-trash-turned-talk-of-the-town. Jesus, however, feints Simon out of position with what appears to be an innocent parable about forgiveness: gratitude mirrors grace; thanks increases as a counterweight to debt.

Do you see this woman? In other words, "Simon, have you heard the rest-of-the-rest-of-the-story?" Jesus' prophetic chops go beyond awareness of sin to the forgiveness of sin. Jesus can rewrite her ending because he has already rewritten her beginning.

We can forgive the Pharisee for not realizing that he was only watching chapter two of the Soap Opera of a Scarlet Woman. His fault lies in the fact that he failed simply to assume the best: that there was more going on than he could possibly know and that the wise course was to trust Jesus' action, and even imitate it.

My friend Don Durham recently told the following story, doubtless set in a Waffle House or iHop, roughly the same kind of public/private chow hall in which Jesus' received this woman's worship:

"My omelet didn't have mushrooms. The bacon never came. It was hard to get water. I overheard the server's mother's day phone call confirming that her daughter had run away again. 'Yes ma'am, I enjoyed every bite. It was delicious. Thank you.'"

How many times have I been aware of the poor service but not overheard the phone call? How many times have I missed the chance to offer a happy ending because I remain unaware of the tragic beginning? "Love," says 1 Corinthians 13.7, "believes all things," or, as Eugene Peterson phrases it, "always looks for the best."

Next time around, may God grant us grace to ignore the sin and assume the phone call.