I nearly didn't get to writing this. It's late. It's been a long day, but I feel like this passage is important. I don't have much to say, but especially in light of people hurting others because of their differences, I wanted to leave this here. The echoes of Orlando will linger for a long time. A presidential candidate has called for banning a religion from this country and even floated racial profiling as a sound strategy. It's terrifying. Unnerving.

So then there's this...

You have to wonder if Luke wanted to make the reader uncomfortable. The sinner woman. The kissing. The flowing hair. The feet*. Jesus, what on earth is going on here with this woman? Do you realize what she's doing?

There is this simple moment that is essential to my understanding of Jesus. Sometimes I think we see him as almost a miracle working robot, the unstoppable antithesis of the Terminator. He was sent to our Earth to save, heal, and point others towards God. And there are times in which he declares that is the reason for whatever miracle that Jesus is performing. But here and a few other places in the gospels we are reminded of his beating heart and thus God's beating heart.

He was never there. 

That realization struck me today. And, no, I'm not talking about finally figuring out what was going on in The Sixth Sense. I picked that one up the first time I saw it. I'm referring to the centurion in this week's gospel passage. It's a bit of poor reading on my part, but I had glossed over the fact that the man asking Jesus to heal his servant never actually spoke face-to-face with Jesus.