Once there was a very holy abbot named Anastasius. He was so revered by his fellow desert monks that many considered him a living saint.
One day, a monk named James committed a serious sin and was told to leave the community. At that moment, Anastasius rose and walked out with him, saying simply, “I too am a sinner.”
Unfortunately, James did not reform. Years later, however, he returned to visit Anastasius, who was then praying his evening prayers.
“Don’t worry,” Anastasius said gently. “My rule is to receive you with hospitality.”
And he welcomed him with food and lodging for the night.
Anastasius owned an old copy of the Bible—valuable and precious. When James saw it, he took it with him as he left the next morning. Upon discovering the theft, Anastasius did not pursue him. He feared that confronting James might only lead him to add the sin of lying to that of theft.
James brought the Bible to a nearby merchant and asked for a high price. The merchant replied, “Let me keep it for a while to see if it’s worth that much.”
He brought it to Anastasius. Upon seeing the book, the abbot calmly said, “Yes, this is a splendid book. In fact, it’s worth much more.”
When the merchant returned and told James what Anastasius had said, James was stunned.
“Was that all he said?” he asked. “Didn’t he say anything else?”
“No,” replied the merchant. “He didn’t say another word.”
James was deeply moved. His heart stirred by this act of mercy, he exclaimed, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to sell the book after all.”
He hurried back to Anastasius, tears in his eyes, and returned the book, begging for forgiveness.
Anastasius embraced him with the same kindness as before.
“I forgive you,” he said. “Keep the book. Read a little from it each day, and pray to Christ, who receives sinners like us and brings them back to God’s love and friendship. Now go in peace.”
Some of the other monks were shocked to see Anastasius waste time on someone like James. But Anastasius responded,
“Tell me—if your robe is torn, do you throw it away?”
“No,” they answered. “We mend it and wear it again.”
“Then,” he said, “if you take such care of a robe, will not God be merciful to one who bears His image?”
Anastasius’ compassion bore fruit. James truly changed. He returned to monastic life and became known for his goodness and holiness.
In today’s Gospel, the Pharisees despised sinners, while Jesus befriended them. He didn’t just offer kind words or gestures—He shared life with them. He sat at their tables, ate with them, drank with them. He didn’t merely tolerate them—He welcomed them. In His presence, they felt seen, accepted, and loved just as they were.
And that’s why so many of them listened. That’s why they changed. Matthew, the tax collector, is a shining example.
Jesus’ approach wasn’t condemnation but compassion. He didn’t wait for sinners to repent before offering friendship. He met them in their brokenness. That’s what scandalized the Pharisees: that He delighted in the company of sinners while they were still sinners. Just as today, some people view compassion for the criminal as a betrayal of the victim, the Pharisees saw Jesus’ compassion for the sinner as a betrayal of the righteous.
But Jesus’ defense was simple and clear: He went where the need was greatest.
In reaching out to sinners, Jesus wasn’t condoning their sin—He was offering them a way out. And He knew you can’t lift someone up if you won’t get close enough to touch them.
He revealed the heart of God: a heart that does not shun the fallen, but seeks them out. A heart that believes in the image of God in every soul—however hidden or bruised.
Jesus didn’t compromise His moral clarity by dining with sinners. Rather, His humility was deep enough to reach that indestructible core of goodness within them. He called it forth. His goodness awakened their own.
It would have been easier—safer, even popular—to remain among the virtuous. But Jesus wasn’t thinking of Himself. He was thinking of the mission. He came to call not the righteous, but sinners—like you, and me—back home.
Back to Main Path
Next Reflection ~Forgive