On the road to Capernaum, Jesus was walking one day,
And as He preached the Gospel a Pharisee approached to say:
I'm giving a banquet, won't you come and be my guest?
So Jesus went, hoping to get a little rest.
And as he was reclining at a table filled with food,
He reflected in His mind that his Host had been quite rude.
Because it was the custom to greet one with a kiss
When that was omitted He knew something was amiss.
Another common courtesy to anoint His head with oil,
Had been purposely left out because He wasn't Royal.
Their shoes were only thongs for that's all they had,
and the host always provided a servant, or a lad
And a bowl of water to wash away the grime
Of travel on a dusty road, a practice at that time.
So Jesus ate, with dirty feet, while they were watching Him
To see if He observed rituals outdated and dim.
A notorious sinful woman lived in a city nearby
Her sordid life excluded her from a life like you and I.
She came into the room and stood weeping at Jesus feet,
So full of remorse was she, and this was not deceit.
Gently taking a foot in her hands, drenching it with her tears,
She cradles it, kisses it, while each guest points and sneers.
She wipes away the dirt and tears with her long hair, so meek
As kissing the foot again and again she presses it to her check.
Then, tears flowing on the other foot, she tenderly holds it close,
All the guests attentive now, and she is still morose.
She wipes the foot clean with her long, flowing locks,
With trembling hands, opens an alabaster box.
Which contains a costly perfume and with it anoints His head
Then rises, and stands close by, to hear what Jesus said.
Just then, Jesus speaks "Simon, I have something to say."
"Say on, Master," he says, they quickly looks away.
"For" he thought, "If this man were a prophet, He'd know
This is a very sinful woman, who's been touching his body so.
"You didn't offer any water to wash away the road's dirt and wear
But this woman washed my feet with tears and wiped them with her hair.
Since the time I came this woman has not stopped kissing my feet
But you don't even kiss my cheek when at the door we meet.
You didn't anoint my head with oil (which was the custom in that day)
She anointed my head with costly perfume, a very High honor to pay.
"Who loves most, Simon, one who's been forgiven little or much?"
"Much", Simon says, and since Jesus knew her touch,
"Her sins, which were many, are forgiven, then gives her a look
That tells her he has allowed all the liberties she took.
She lovingly dared to touch his body, held his foot in her hand.
She felt that Jesus alone could really understand.
Now she took my place and did what I cannot do.
She actually touched Jesus' feet which thrilled her through and through.
Making me just a bit envious that I cannot do the same,
But I can reach the same result by believing in His name.
I cannot kiss His feet, but I can end the turmoil and strife,
I can give Jesus my heart, and make Him Lord of my life.
By F. W. (Lucky) Hope
