Fr Mark Schultz (Copy)

“Then, turning toward the woman, Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman?’” Luke 7:44

Dear Friend,

How we’re seen influences how we become. The expectations of others often define the horizons of our own potential…not because they are the horizons of our own potential, let’s be clear, but because how we’re seen inevitably conditions how we come to see ourselves. And how we come to see others.

In our story from Luke (7:36-50) this morning, Simon the Pharisee (Jesus’ host at a feast at which a woman, an outsider has suddenly appeared) Simon thinks he does see this woman. Simon thinks he knows this woman. In fact, he’s pretty confident: She’s a sinner. That’s all there is to it. Her story is clear. She’s worthless. Her presence at this event? It’s a scandal on any number of levels. Of course he sees her. Everybody sees her. You can’t miss her. All eyes have been glued to her since she walked in the door, unbound her hair (which a respectable woman would never do), and began anointing the feet of Jesus, washing them with her tears, wiping them with her hair. Do you see this woman? What a ridiculous question, Simon’s probably thinking. “Yes, I see this woman. But really, I’d much rather not.”

The good news today is what a joy and a mercy it is to know that God’s vision of us is not our vision of each other or even of ourselves! Let me repeat that: God’s vision of us is not our vision of each other or even of ourselves. Imagine that moment at this feast in our Gospel when Jesus asks Simon, “Do you see this woman?” Imagine it: our gospeller gives us incredibly evocative details. Luke tells us the woman is behind Jesus, at his feet, which means that all the guests are assembled on couches reclining, facing each other in a wide circle. There’s a clear sense here of who’s in the circle and who’s out of the circle, and this woman is most certainly out. But in verse 44, Luke tells us that when Jesus asks Simon if he sees this woman, he turns to her and then he speaks. He directs his gaze outside the circle of social graces in a move that echoes the direction of his steps toward Calvary when he bore the cross for us outside the city and became the ultimate Outsider. He gives her his full and complete attention.

Jesus
sees
her.

What must that have been like? She knows, she’s bound to know how these other people at the feast see her. They’ve been telling her since she was born. Her life doesn’t matter. Her gifts don’t matter. Her love doesn’t matter. She has nothing to offer. All she is and all she ever can be is a sinner.

But Jesus sees her.

And in this seeing, can you imagine, as the loving eyes of the Lord of Love look on her, she can read in them something she’s never read in anyone else’s eyes: Delight.

She knows through her own tears as Jesus sees her that God delights in her. Loves her. Believes her and believes in her. And she knows, as the gawping eyes of all the other guests fade away, as the horizons of her becoming suddenly expand in God’s seeing, as she loses herself in God’s own vision of her, she knows:
No
other
vision
matters.

How we’re seen influences how we become. How we in turn see is a response to how we are seen. We’re called to respond in love to what God has done for us, called to draw the circle wider, called to live in and from God’s vision for the world, a vision that looks like Jesus Christ. Which means: we are called to see as God sees.

“Do you see this woman?”

It’s not just a question Jesus asks Simon the Pharisee. It’s a question Jesus asks us, too.

“Do you see this woman? Because,” Jesus says to us, “you need to see, you need to really actually see this woman.”

Under the Mercy,
Fr Mark+