I’m working on some writing about the woman in Luke 7 who rains tears down on Jesus’ feet and then anoints them with expensive perfume. Despite her impossible-to-ignore presence in this text most exegesis focuses on Jesus’ subsequent conversation with his dinner host: Simon. As the passage transitions from her to their dialogue Jesus says, “Do you see this woman?” Of course Simon saw her. No one could miss her shameess display of intimacy, worship, and care. Why does Jesus ask the question?
I believe that Jesus saw who she most truly was, not how she was perceived by those around her. I believe that Jesus honored her actions, her courage, her risking, her dangerous beauty by pulling the spotlight back to her. I believe that Jesus offered her more strength and grace and affirmation in that moment than she had potentially ever known in her life. And I believe that Jesus asks that question of and for me.
These days I’m uncertain of how I’m seen. There are alternative views of how I act, respond, behave, and live depending on those with whom I’m in relationship: family, friends, work, total strangers. And it is easy for me to lose sight of Jesus’ sight.
I need to believe that Jesus sees who I most truly am, not how I am perceived by those around me. I need to believe that Jesus honors my actions, my courage, my risking, even my dangerous beauty (will I believe that?) by letting the spotlight fall on me no matter how uncomfortable or glaring that might feel. I need to believe that Jesus offers me more strength and grace and affirmation in these days of questioning my own motives than I have potentially ever known in my life. I need to believe that Jesus asks, “Do you see this woman?”
It’s probable that none of the harsh realities of this woman’s life radically changed after Jesus’ interaction with her and on her behalf. Nor do mine.
But I have been seen. That voice, those words are what offer me hope…
