Do you see this woman?
I don’t often listen to the Sunday service on radio 4, but the other week I did. And just one word, read with a particular emphasis, stood out and set off fireworks in my mind and in my heart.
The Bible reading was a story from the gospels (If you’d like to take a look, it’s Luke 7:36–50). Jesus is at the home of a Pharisee, called Simon. During the meal, a woman with a bit of a reputation, comes into the house, stands behind Jesus (who was presumably reclining to eat), cries all over his feet, dries them with her hair and then pours perfume on them. Simon decides that the fact Jesus is entirely cool with this display of affection and emotion is proof that he’s not really a prophet. A prophet, after all, would know what kind of woman this was and presumably wouldn’t be at all happy with this turn of events.
Jesus tells Simon a little parable about men owing money to moneylenders and then — and then — he turns to the woman and says to Simon:
Do you see this woman?
And when I heard this passage the other week, it was that little word, see that the reader emphasised. I’ve read this story so many times, but hearing it read this time, with that word emphasised, I suddenly saw things I hadn’t seen before.
No, of course Simon didn’t see her. That’s the irony of viewing the world through a set of judgemental lenses. You think you’ve seen the thing that you’re judging, but you’ve only really glanced at it long enough to spot your reason for dismissing it.
The next part of the story has always annoyed me a bit. Jesus proceeds to explain to Simon how the woman has filled in the gaps in Simon’s hospitality and then tells her that her sins are fogiven and that she can go in peace. He didn’t provide water for Jesus’ feet, but she has washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair. He did not welcome Jesus with a kiss, but she has kissed his feet. A lot. He provided no olive oil for his head, but the woman has covered his feet with perfume.
Why did this annoy me? Well, because the woman seemed to me to be largely ignored. Simply there as an illustration for Jesus’ conversation with Simon. I felt she was sidelined. But there was something I hadn’t spotted.
This time I saw what I hadn’t seen before. Jesus might be addressing his words to Simon, but he is turned towards, looking at, the woman. And because she was behind him, at his feet, he has turned his back on Simon. It is into her eyes that he is looking. Simon might not have seen her, but Jesus does. In his words to Simon, he is telling her in no uncertain terms that he sees her and that she, in her raw, emotional, honest, over the top response to him, has done better than the man whose party she has gate crashed. The man who socially outranks her in every way. And if Simon is looking in the direction of Jesus, it is his back and her face that he will see. Not only does Jesus see her. He makes sure that Simon does too.
The Jesus we meet in the gospels goes around unapologetically seeing people. Whether you were a child, a widow, an insurgent, a tax collecting colluder, a roman, a tormented man living in caves because your community couldn’t cope with you, a pharisee coming with questions in the night, a leper… it didn’t matter. Jesus would see you. Beyond labels and status. Meeting Jesus was a humanising encounter. It still is. As I seek to follow Jesus, that’s an example I want to follow. But hearing the story this time, it is Jesus’ encounters with women that speaks most loudly to me.
Do you see this woman?
In a society where women were routinely ignored and discounted and generally not regarded as having any social significance Jesus, throughout his ministry, made a habit of seeing women and making sure that they were seen. The woman at the well in Samaria, who is stunned that he should talk to her at all. The women who were the first to see Jesus on Easter morning. The woman who crept up to him and touched his garment in the hope of healing, when Jesus was on the way to heal the desperately ill daughter of a synagogue leader. On that occasion, he knows that she’s already been healed, because he felt the healing power go out of him but he halts the trip to Jairus’ house all the same, for long enough for her to tell her life story in front of the crowd. Any triage nurse would be having kittens at this point. She’s better. Surely. Meanwhile there is the child of a prominent citizen in need of help.
But Jesus sees this woman. This woman who has been an outcast, a half citizen, for years, because of her bleeding. He sees her. He sees the dignity that she needs. And in the midst of that crowd he gives it to her.
Do you see this woman?
Those are words that reverberate through the ages. There are so many women who have gone unseen, whose achievements have been lost or forgotten or credited to their male colleagues but whose voices and stories are beginning to be rediscovered. I think of Greta Thunberg and Malala Yousafzai and remember that it’s not that long ago that the worlds of medicine and politics and science and education and (less crucially) golf clubs were male preserves.
I remember where I was in 1992 when I heard that the Church of England had decided to allow the ordination of women. I will not forget watching the England team win the Women’s Euro final this summer, in front of a record breaking crowd at Wembley stadium, a century after the football association banned women from playing football in its grounds. It’s not just the brilliance of the team that I will remember, it’s the young girls in the crowd, shining with joy and pride, watching their heroes, seeing role models.
Do you see this woman?
Progress isn’t inevitable or universal. Tens of thousands of people went to women’s football games before the FA ban in 1921. Afghan women gained the right to vote in 1919 and were attending university in the 1970’s. In Iran, the legal age of marriage was raised from 13 to 18 in 1963, before being lowered, following the revolution, to just 9 years old. There are women in El Salvador and in the United States who have been convicted of murder as a result of having miscarriages.
Do you see this woman?
We cannot be complacent. But compared with a couple of centuries ago, the answer to Jesus’ question is ‘yes’ so much more often than it was.
You might also be interested in the Loved Called Gifted podcast, which you can find, along with other stuff, on my website: lovedcalledgifted.com
