Do You See This Woman

When a prostitute wanted to honor Jesus, He welcomed and honored her. But the religious folks of His time wanted to turn her away. Whose example are you following?

by Mark Buchanan

It’s one of Jesus’ most pointed, poignant questions, which is saying something. The man could skewer you with a question, plumb to the depths and pry loose and drag into daylight your deepest, most hidden thought.

But this question just about tops them all.

He asks it of a Pharisee named Simon, a man filled with righteous indignation and self-congratulatory piety (not unlike me at times.) He’s invited Jesus to lunch at his house with an agenda: to suss out Jesus’ bona-fides. Is this “rabbi” really a holy man? A prophet? Is it possible he’s the Messiah? Simon wants an up-close-and-personal encounter with Jesus to weigh the matter, to test it against certain assumptions.

But plans go sideways. A woman crashes the party. Not just any woman: one of those kinds of women. With a reputation. A past. A stigma. Her life has been turned upside down by Jesus, but this is entirely inappropriate. She’s probably dressed all wrong—too scantily, too gaudily, too seductively. Her behavior is appalling. It’s embarrassing. She throws herself at Jesus’ feet, tears dampening His toes as she wipes them with her hair. She pours perfume on his feet. She showers kisses on them.

I’m trying to picture it happening to me. At a restaurant, with my elders board watching, and some of the uptown people who attend my church. A woman enters: she’s well-known in town for all the wrong reasons. She’s not invited but comes anyhow. Gushes on me. Weepily caresses and kisses my feet. Douses me with perfume.

I’m embarrassed just thinking about it.

Jesus, on the other hand, receives it with joy. Indeed, her behavior is not only beautiful in His eyes, but it also makes up for a glaring negligence on Simon’s part. This religious leader has invited Jesus to his home, but hasn’t welcomed Him there. Inviting is something you do. It’s an act you commit. Welcoming is something in your heart. It’s a desire you express.

Simon knows how to invite. He just doesn’t have a clue how to welcome Jesus. That, it turns out, takes much love, humility, openness of heart. It takes gratitude—knowing you’ve been forgiven much. The Pharisee is deficient on both counts, but not this woman. She knows how much she’s been forgiven. She loves much, and so she is brilliant at welcoming. Though she’s not on the guest list, she welcomes Jesus lavishly. And though He’s not the host, Jesus welcomes her in kind.

Simon, on the other hand, is disgusted and outraged, and his sentiments are aimed at Jesus more than the woman: “ . . . he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet He would know who and what sort of person this woman is who is touching Him, that she is a sinner’” (Luke 7:39).

Jesus knocks Simon awake with a question: “Do you see this woman?

I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave Me no kiss; but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss My feet. You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume. For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little” (Luke 7:44-47).

"Simon, do you see this woman?” He doesn’t. Most of us wouldn’t—or we’d see her as Simon does, through the lens of our moral disdain. It’s always hard to see when you’ve forgotten how much you’ve been forgiven.

In many ways, this story is really about hospitality. Yet I think most of us don’t have a clue about what this biblical hospitality really is. We’re plagued too much with a Simon complex. Our idea of welcoming others is laden with hidden agendas: we want to impress, to be entertained, to gain something. We want to upgrade our social status. We want others to think well of us. We don’t want to risk our reputations.

Jesus has a different idea: “When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, otherwise they may also invite you in return and that will be your repayment. But when you give a reception, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (Luke 14:12-14).

Some theologians think the chief attribute of God—the one that contains all His others qualities, including justice and mercy and love—is hospitality. God invites only people who can never pay Him pack. And He runs to greet the prodigals.

It’s scandalous, really. Our version of hospitality in the West is inviting friends to come for three hours. Biblical hospitality is begging strangers to stay one more night. Divine hospitality is pursuing enemies so that, after you’ve died to make them sons and daughters, they can live with you forever.

In Touch Ministries/Dr. Charles F. Stanley