How committed was Jesus to accepting prostitutes and tax collectors in his midst? After all, he kept celibate and never seemed to care little for worldly wealth. As far as I could tell, he'd never sinned at all. That had to make him feel superior to everyone else, if the ability to do miracles didn't already do that for him.

But never had I caught him acting superior or proud or anything like that until the day he came to a rich pharisee's house for dinner.

Of all the religious sub-groups in Israel, these seemed to be the ones he spent the most time with and with whom his teaching most agreed. Maybe that's why he critisized them so frequently, because he was most concerned for their welfare.

Today, though, he had nothing bad to say about the men with long beards and fine robes. He sat in a tall house with cut stones in the floors, high ceilings, and tapestries on the walls. Servants brought them wine and goat cheese while they discussed obscure passages of scripture. Frequently, the beards wobbled as the men he talked with laughed as he made a passage clear to them or frowned when they could not understand his points.

Jesus was always confident, but never before had I seen him so full of himself, dazzling and impressing these educated men while his followers, for the most part waited outside. To be fair there wasn't room for them all, and Jesus had insisted that food be brought to the ones who waited in the garden.

With a glowing smile and excited tone, Jesus leaned forward and recited a passage from Isaiah.

At once I found Ahirat, where she waited outside. She'd not been successful in meeting Jesus the day before, he'd come back from his prayers by a different route. Now she sat outside, in earshot of the windows, listening to Jesus speak. I doubt she understood a word he said.

"Go to him," I whispered. "Get his attention."

She cast her eyes to the ground. Her emotions stirred but slightly.

"Show him how you feel about him."

On hearing this, her heart quickened. I knew she found him attractive from the way she stole glances at him. Men of power always drew women's gazes, and Jesus was a man who could do miracles and turn the mind's of the most learned men in Israel in knots. More than one of his followers dreamed of holding the man in their arms.

Mikal's portrait of him flashed in my mind. At once my demonic energies boiled within me.

"What of the expensive perfumes you keep for your special clients. Go to him now, break open the jars and wash his feet. Surely, he'll love you for it."

Tentatively, she got to her feet.

Honestly, I didn't expect her to listen to that but--oh, the sight of her in this learned man's house annointing Jesus' feet would be priceless. I could picture Jesus getting all red-faced and explaining how sinners needed mercy. Everyone else in the room, though, would start to think maybe these women were more than just followers of his.

I nudged Ahirat with a wave of desire and longing.

She went inside, pausing as everyone turned to look at her. And how could they not? She was gorgeous and young. Fiery thoughts danced in the minds of more than one scholar's mind at the sight of her.

Some of the servants began to mutter. "This is a prostitute." It wasn't hard to guess from her makeup or the way she dressed.

Two of the learned men nodded in response to that statement and fixed her with disapproving glares. Even a few of Jesus' followers in the room could be heard to whisper about her.

In response, she began to weep. The tears were plentiful and silent, a gorgeous display. Soon, Jesus' scholarly discussion would devolve into a circus.

"Go on," I urged her. "Now isn't the time to turn back."

She stepped forward right up to Jesus, still weeping. When he didn't react, she got down before him, let her tears fall on his feet and wiped them with her hair.

I hooted with delight. By the fires of sheol, I could not have hoped for anything better.

Then she withdrew three alabaster bottles from the folds of her garments and proceeded to pour them over his feet, filling the air with the scent of persimmon. Several of the pharisees scooted away from the spectacle. Their thoughts boiled wildly now.

"Simon," Jesus said, speaking to the pharisee who owned the house. "I would like to continue our discussion."

"Um, sure," Simon said. His gaze was fixed on Ahirat. Of all the men in the room, his desire for her was the most plain to me. I stirred him with feelings of envy and jealousy.

"Two people owed a debt to a certain money lender, one owed five hundred denarii. That's a princely sum, wouldn't you agree?"

Simon nodded. "One could buy a decent house with that."

"Another owed fifty."

"That's still a lot of money," Simon said. "More than most people in this city will ever possess."

"Now suppose," Jesus went on, "that this money lender forgave both debts. Which of the two debtors, do you suppose, will love him more?"

Simon smiled and moved his gaze from Ahirat to Jesus. "Why, the one who owed him more, of course. What other answer could their be?"

Jesus bowed his head. "Yes, you are correct."

He waited, looked around, and met the gazes of each of the learned men. "When I came into this house, no one offered to me water for my feet, but this woman has washed them with her tears. I was not offered oil for my head, but look! She annoints my feet with expensive perfume."

He then turned to Ahirat and lifted her face to meet his gaze. "Ahirat," he said. "Though your sins are many, I declare them to be forgiven."

She laughed and put a hand over her mouth. She stood. "You--how did you know my name."

The scene was not playing out quite as I hoped. Jesus had not been embarrassed in the slightest.

Quickly, I went to the pharisee named Simon. "Do hear the blasphemy he utters?"

Simon nodded. He leaned over to one of his friends and whispered, "how can he forgive her sins?"

The man whispered back, "I was there when he forgave the sins of a paralytic. We all asked the same question, and then Jesus commanded the paralytic to rise and walk. And it happened. Would God have done that for him if he had blasphemed?"

I ground my spiritual teeth. I'd not recognized this pharisee from the day that miracle occurred.

Ahirat just stood there, fixing Jesus with a beatific smile. The joy that shone from it was so powerful, I had to shield my face.

Judas stepped forward. "Rabbi, you should rebuke her for this waste. Her tears alone showed her true repentance. The perfume could have been sold to feed the poor for many days."

The woman's face fell, darkening with shame.

I laughed to myself. Why hadn't I thought to suggest that to him?

"Hush, Judas. This woman has done a beautiful thing and I will not hear anything said against her. I tell you, what she has done here today will be told throughout the world and remembered for ages to come."

"But, surely, lord--" Judas began.

Jesus held up a hand.

"What she has done, she has been done in preparation for my burial."

Judas's face darkened in confusion and he took a step back. The others, two, frowned in puzzlement--as did I. Burial? Was Jesus already growing tired of his humanity? Was it some other ridiculous parable?

"Your faith has saved you," Jesus said to Ahirat. "You may go in peace."

She bowed and exited, while all of us sat and wondered what Jesus meant by his cryptic statement.