SER. LXIX.]

THE UNCHASTE WOMAN.

mediate strokes from the hand of a God, merci-
ful though displeased, would be most tolerable.
He could conceive nothing more terrible than
to see between God and himself, men who
would intercept his looks, and would prevent
his access to the throne of grace.

My brethren, the wish of David under his
consternation may direct ours in regard to all
the spots that have defiled our lives. True,
the eyes of God are infinitely more pure than
those of men. He indeed discovers frailties in
our lives which have escaped our notice, and
'if our heart condemns us, God is greater than
our heart.' It is true, he hath punishments to
inflict on us infinitely more dreadful than any
mankind can invent, and if men can kill the
body, God is able to destroy both soul and
body in hell.' However, this Almighty God,
this terrible, this avenging God, is a merciful
God, 'great are his tender mercies; but men,
men are cruel; yea, the very men who allow
themselves to live in the most shameful licen-
tiousness, men who have the most need of the
patience of others, men who themselves deserve
the most rigorous punishments, these very men
are usually void of all pity for their fellows.
The unchaste
Behold a striking example.
woman in the text experienced both, and by
turns made trial of the judgment of God, and
But she met with a
the judgment of men.
very different treatment. In Jesus Christ she
found a very severe legislator, who left her
awhile to shed tears, and very bitter tears; a
legislator, who left her awhile to her own grief,
and sat and saw her hair dishevelled, and her
features distorted; but who soon took care to
dry up her tears, and to address this comforta-
ble language to her, 'Go in peace.' On the
contrary, in the hands of men she found nothing
but barbarity and cruelty. She heard a su-
percilious Pharisee endeavour to arm against
her the Redeemer of mankind, try to persuade
him to denounce on her sentence of death, even
while she was repenting of her sin, and to do
his utmost to cause condemnation to flow from
the very fountain of grace and mercy.

It is this instructive, this comfortable history, that we set before you to-day, and which presents three very different objects to our meditation, the conduct of the incontinent woman, that of the Pharisee, and that of Jesus Christ. In the conduct of the woman, prostrate at the feet of our Saviour, you see the principal characters of repentance. In that of the Pharisee you may observe the venom which not unfrequently infects the judgments which mankind make of one another. And in that of Jesus Christ you may behold free and generous emotions of pity, mercy, and compassion. Let us enter into the matter.

I. Let us first observe the incontinent woman now become a penitent. The question most controverted by interpreters, and very differently answered by them, is that, which in our opinion is the least important, that is, who was this woman? Not that a perfect knowledge of her person, and the history of her life, would not be very proper, by explaining the nature of her sins, to give us a just idea of her repentance, and so contribute to elucidate the

text: but because, though we have taken a
great deal of pains, we have found nothing on
this article worthy to be proposed to critical
hearers, who insist upon being treated as ra-
tional men, and who refuse to determine a point
without evidence.

I know, some expositors, misled by a resem-
blance between this anointing of Jesus Christ,
and that mentioned in the eleventh chapter of
St. John, when our Saviour supped with La-
zarus, have supposed that the woman here
spoken of was the same Mary, the sister of La-
zarus, who paid such a profound attention to
the discourse of Jesus Christ, and who, accord-
ing to the evangelist, 'anointed the Lord with
ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair.'
And as other parts of the gospel speak of ano-
ther Mary called Magdalen,' some have
thought that Mary the sister of Lazarus, Mary
out of whom' it is said, Jesus
Magdalen,
Christ had cast seven devils,' and the woman
of our text, were one and the same person.

We do not intend to enter on these discus-
sions. It is sufficient to know, first, that the
woman here in question lived in the city of
Nain, which sufficiently distinguishes her from
Mary the sister of Lazarus, who was at Betha-
ny, and from Mary Magdalen, who probably
was so called, because she was born at Mag-
dala, a little town in the tribe of Manasseh,
Secondly, the woman of our text was one of a
bad life, that is to say, guilty of impurity.
The original word signifies a sinner. This
term sometimes signifies in Scripture the con-
dition of such as lived out of the covenant, and
in this sense it is used in the epistle to the
Galatians, where St. Paul calls pagans sinners:
but the word is applied in Greek authors to
those women who were such as all the cir
cumstances of our history engage us to consi-
der this woman. Though it is easy to deter-
mine the sin of this woman in general, yet it is
not easy to determine the particular kind,
whether it had been adultery, or prostitution,
or only some one criminal intrigue. Our re-
flections will by turns regard each of these con-
ditions. In fine, it is highly probable, both by
the discourse of the Pharisee, and by the oint-
ment, with which this woman anointed the feet
of Jesus Christ, that she was a person of some
fortune. This is all I know on this sort of
questions. Should any one require more, I
should not blush to avow my ignorance, and to
recommend him to guides wiser than any I
have the honour of being acquainted with, or
to such as possess that, which in my opinion,
of all the talents of learned men, seems to me
least to be envied, I mean that of having fixed
opinions on doubtful subjects unsupported by
any solid arguments.

We will confine ourselves to the principal circumstances of the life of this sinner; and to put our observations into a kind of order, we will examine first, her grief-next, the Saviour to whom she applied-then, the love that inflamed her-and lastly, the courage with which she was animated. In these four circumstances we observe four chief characters of repentance. First, Repentance must be lively, and Our sinner accompanied with keen remorse.

SER. LXIX.)

peace-offerings with me, I have this day paid my vows, come, let us solace ourselves with loves? What are certain moments expected with impatience, managed with industry, and employed with avidity, but features of this woman, who says to fools among the youth, the good man is not at home, nor will he come home till the day appointed?'-I stop-if the unchaste woman in the text, had been guilty of adultery, she had defiled the most sacred and inviolable of all connexions. She had kindled discord in the family of him who was the object of her criminal regard. She had given an example of impurity and perfidy to her children and her domestics, to the world and to the church. She had affronted in the most cruel and fatal manner the man, to whom she owed the tenderest attachment, and the most profound respect. She had covered her parents with disgrace, and provoked such as knew her debauchery to inquire from which of her ancestors she had received such impure and tainted blood. She had divided her heart and her bed with the most implacable enemy of her family. She had hazarded the legitimacy of her children, and confounded the lawful heir with a spurious offspring. Are any tears too bitter to expiate such an odious complication of crimes? Is any quantity too great to shed, to wash away such guilt as this?

But we will not take pains to blacken the reputation of this penitent: we may suppose her unchaste, as the evangelist leads us to do, without supposing her an adulteress or a prostitute. She might have fallen once, and only once. Her sin, however, even in this case must have become a perpetual source of sorrow: thousands and thousands of sad reflections must have pierced her heart. Was this the only fruit of my education? Is this all I have learned from the many lessons, that have been given me from my cradle, and which seem so proper to guard me for ever against the rocks where my feeble virtue has been shipwrecked? I have renounced the decency of my sex, the appurtenances of which always have been timidity, scrupulosity, delicacy, and modesty. I have committed one of those crimes which, whether it were justice or cruelty, mankind never forgive. I have given myself up to the unkindness and contempt of him, to whom I have shamefully sacrificed my honour. I have fixed daggers in the hearts of my parents; I have caused that to be attributed to their negligence, which was occasioned only by my own depravity and folly. I have banished myself for ever from the company of prudent persons. How can I bear their looks? Where can I find a night dark enough to conceal me from their sight?

This

Thus might our mourner think; but to refer all her grief to motives of this kind would be to insult her repentance. She has other motives more worthy of a penitent. heart, the heart that my God demanded with so much condescension and love, I have denied him, and given up to voluptuousness. This body, which should have been a temple of the Holy Ghost,' is become the den of an

impure passion. The time and pains I should
have employed in the work of my salvation, I
have spent in robbing Jesus Christ of his con-
quests. I have disputed with my Saviour the
souls he redeemed with his blood, and what
he came to save I have endeavoured to sink
in perdition. I am become the cause of the re-
morse of my accomplice in sin, he considers
me with horror, he reproaches me with the
very temptations, to which he exposed me,
and when our eyes meet in a religious assem-
bly, or in the performance of a ceremony of de-
votion, he tacitly tells me, that I made him
unworthy to be there. I shall be his execu-
tioner on his death-bed, perhaps I shall be so
through all eternity. I have exposed myself
to a thousand dangers, from which nothing but
the grace of God has protected me, to a thousand
perils and dreadful consequences, the sad and
horrible examples which stain all history.
Such are the causes of the tears of this peni-
tent. She stood at the feet of Jesus Christ,
weeping, and washed his feet with tears."
This is the first character of true repentance, it
consists in part in keen remorse.

She

Repentance must be wise in its application. Our sinner did not go to the foot of Mount Sinai to seek for absolution under pretence of her own righteousness, and to demand justification as a reward due to her works. was afraid, as she had reason to be, that the language of that dreadful mountain proceeding from the mouth of divine justice would pierce her through. Nor did she endeavour to ward off the blows of justice by covering She herself with superstitious practices. did not say, wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God? shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? Micah vi. 7. She did not even require priests and Levites to offer propitiatory sacrifices for her. She discerned the sophisms of error, and acknowledged the Redeemer of mankind, under the veils of infirmity and poverty that covered him. She knew that the blood of bulls and of goats' could not purify the conscience. She knew that Jesus sitting at table with the Pharisee was the only offering, the only victim of worth sufficient to satisfy the justice of an offended God. She knew that he was made unto sinners wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification and redemption that his name was the only one among men whereby they might be saved.' It was to Jesus Christ that she had recourse, bedewing with tears the feet of him who was about to shed his blood for her, and receiving by an anticipated faith the benefit of the death that he was going to suffer, she renounced dependance on every kind of satisfaction except his.

6

The third character of the repentance of this sinner is love. It should seem, Jesus Christ would have us consider all her actions as evidences of love, rather than as marks

of repentance; she hath loved much.'
These things are not incompatible. Though
'perfect love casteth out fear,' yet it does not
cast out grief, for the pardon of sin received by
an elect soul, far from diminishing the regret
which it feels for committing it, contributes to
augment it.
The more we love God, the
greater the pain felt for offending him. Yea,
this love that makes the happiness of angels,
this love that inflames seraphim, this love that
supports the believers under the most cruel
torments, this love is the greatest punishment
of a penitent. To have offended the God we
love, a God rendered amiable by infinite per-
fections, a God so tender, so compassionate as
to pardon the very sins we lament; this love
excites in a soul such emotions of repentance
as we should labour in vain to express, unless
your hearts, in concert with our mouths, feel
in proportion as we describe.

Courage is the fourth fourth character of the repentance, or, if you will, the love of this woman. She does not say, What will they say of me? Ah, my brethren, how often has this single consideration, What will they say of me? been an obstacle to repentance! How many penitents have been discouraged, if not prevented by it! To say all in one word, how many souls has it plunged into perdition! Persons affected by this, though urged by their consciences to renounce the world and its pleasures, have not been able to get over a fear of the opinions of mankind concerning their conversion. Is any one persuaded of the necessity of living retired? This consideration, What will be said of me? terrifies him. It will be said, that I choose to be singular, that I affect to distinguish myself from other men, that I am an enemy to social pleasure. Does any one desire to be exact in the performance of Divine worship? This one consideration, What will they say of me? terrifies. They will say, I affect to set myself off for a religious and pious person, I want to impose on the church by a specious outside; they will say, I am a weak man full of fancies and phantoms. Our penitent breaks through every worldly consideration. 'She goes,' says a modern author, into a strange house, without being invited, to disturb the pleasure of a festival, by an ill-timed sorrow, to cast herself at the feet of the Saviour, without fearing what would be said, either of her past life, or of her present boldness, to make by this extraordinary action a kind of public confession of her dissoluteness, and to suffer for the first punishment of her sins, and for a proof of her conversion, such insults as the pride of the Pharisees, and her own ruined reputation would certainly draw upon her."* We have seen the behaviour of the penitent; now let us observe the judgment of the Pharisee. If this man were a prophet, he would have known who, and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him, for she is a' woman of bad fame.

II. The evangelist expressly tells us, that he Pharisee who thus judged, was the person

* Flechier, panegyrique de la Magdeleine.

at whose table Jesus Christ was eating. Whether he were a disciple of Jesus Christ, as is very probable, and as his calling Christ Master seems to import, or whether he had invited him for other reasons, are questions of little importance, and we will not now examine them. It is certain, our Saviour did often eat with some Pharisees, who far from being his disciples, were the most implacable enemies of his person and doctrine. If this man were a disciple of Jesus Christ, it should seem very strange that he should doubt the divinity of the mission of Christ, and inwardly refuse him even the quality of a prophet. This Pharisee was named Simon; however, nothing obliges us either to confound Simon the Pharisee with Simon the leper, mentioned in Matthew, and to whose house Jesus Christ retired, or the history of our text with that related in the last mentioned place, for the circumstances are very different, as it would be easy to prove, had we not subjects more important to propose to you. Whosoever this Pharisee might be, he said within himself, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who, and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him; for she is a sinner.' There are four defects in this judgment—a criminal indolence— an extravagant rashness-an intolerable pride -an anti-Christian cruelty. As we cannot help condemning the opinion of the Pharisee for these four defects, so we cannot avoid censuring most of the judgments, that people form on the conduct of their neighbours for the same

reasons.

A criminal indolence. That disposition of mind, I allow, is very censurable, which inspires a perpetual attention to the actions of our neighbours, and the motive of it is sufficient to make us abhor the practice. We have reason to think, that the more people pry into the conduct of their neighbours, the more they intend to gratify the barbarous pleasure of defaming them: but there is a disposition far more censurable still, and that is to be always ready to form a rigorous judgment, on the least appearances of impropriety, and without taking pains to inquire, whether there be no circumstances that diminish the guilt of an action apparently wrong, nothing that renders it deserving of patience or pity. It does not belong to us to set ourselves up for judges of the actions of our brethren, to become inquisitors in regard to their manners, and to distribute punishments of sin and rewards of virtue. At least, when we usurp this right, let us not aggravate our conduct by the manner in which we exercise the bold imperious usurpation. Let us not pronounce like bold iniquitous judges on the actions of those sinners, to whom nature, society, and religion, ought to unite us in an affectionate manner. Let us procure exact informations of the causes of such criminals as we summon before our tribunals, and let us not deliver our sentences till we have weighed in a just balance whatever tends to condemn, or to absolve them. This would bridle our malignity. We should be constrained to suspend for a long time our avidity to solicit, and to hasten the death of a