However gracious the invitation may have been given, it is quite clear that the hospitality was meant to be qualified. These Pharisees who loved the uppermost seats at feasts, knew how to entertain. But in this feast, all the ordinary attentions which were usually paid to honored guests were strangely omitted. There was no servant with basin of water and towel for the weary and dust-covered feet, no anointing of the head, no kiss of welcome upon the cheek, nothing but a somewhat ungracious admission to a vacant place at the table, and the most distant courtesies of ordinary intercourse, so managed that this Guest from among the common people might feel that he was receiving honors in the house of a rich and influential Pharisee. Many a poor man’s head has been turned by such feigned and mock courtesies. It would have been a thousand times better to the head and heart of Simon if he had never invited the Lord, than to assume in His presence what he was not at heart. Our Lord must have keenly felt these omissions. But, since he had been invited, He made the best of this empty show at hospitality, only we may be quite sure He was clothed in His usual gentleness and modest dignity. We may well believe our Lord showed no signs of being piqued at the slights put upon Him, nor embarrassed in the presence of His host and the distinguished guests present. While Jesus cared little for show or etiquette, yet it was but natural that He should have keenly felt these omissions so gracefully shown to the others at this feast. But before us rises another scene. “Behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster box of ointment.” How thoughtful these women are! This one was not satisfied with merely following the throng, but she takes with her the most costly gift at her command. What a contrast between her and Simon, who haughtily thought within himself that anything was good enough for this lowly Prophet of Nazareth. When this woman, whose character seemed to have been well known, too well indeed for her own comfort, reached Simon’s house, she found the door thronged by a crowd of people who had doubtless followed Jesus, and now stood, and looked, and listened--for privacy seems a thing impossible in the free and easy life of Orientals. For a moment she lingered amidst the throng. While there, men, as they passed in to the feast, gathered their robes as they passed her, lest by a passing touch she should defile them. As she sees the scanty preparations, the cold reception, her woman’s heart is made indignant. “Would that I were worthy to ask Him beneath my roof, or would that I could bid Him come and sit at meat with me; all that I have were His to minister in any way to His comfort. But I, alas, am so far down and He so holy--there is no chance for me.” So she thinks.