Jesus
asks one of the Pharisees, ‘Do you see this woman?’
Do
you see this woman?
Do you see this woman?
Do you see
this woman?
Do you see this woman?
Do you see this woman?
Roughly
a thousand years earlier, another woman was having a bath. Her neighbour’s
property overlooked her home, and he is watching her. He is looking without
seeing. He does not see her. He does not see the wife of Uriah. And to be clear:
the text does not refer to Bathsheba as ‘the wife of Uriah’ because it is
written from a patriarchal point-of-view (though it may well have been) but
because it is written from the perspective of covenant relationship. Bathsheba
is more than ‘the wife of Uriah,’ but she is not ever less than ‘the wife of
Uriah.’ And this is what David fails to see, before him.
Uriah
was one of David’s closest friends, one of his ‘mighty men’ who rallied to him
when David, who had been king Saul’s great general, had fled for his life
before the mad king. David and Uriah had lived side-by-side as outlaws and
mercenaries, even hiding in caves in the wilderness; and now David lived in a
palace, his faithful friend still lived by his side. While Uriah was away
fighting one of David’s military campaigns, his friend took his wife. When, as
a result, she discovered that she was pregnant, David called Uriah home, on the
pretext of throwing a banquet in his friend’s honour, plied him with wine, and
encouraged him to enjoy the welcome-home attentions of his wife. But Uriah was
a man who identified deeply with others, and therefore he determined not to enjoy
with his wife what his fellow fighting men were currently unable to enjoy with
their wives. In desperation, David resorted to Plan B (for Betrayal): his
faithful friend carried back with him a sealed letter to the Commanding
Officer, a letter that sealed his own fate. It read, Attack the enemy, making
sure that Uriah is in the front line, and then retreat, cutting him off.
David
did not see Bathsheba. He did not see Uriah. He did not see himself. He saw
only what he wanted to see.
David
is portrayed as the greatest king Israel ever had. In contrast, Ahab is
portrayed as the most wicked king Israel ever had. Interestingly, David’s
actions in relation to Uriah, and Ahab’s actions in relation to his neighbour
Naboth, mirror one another. David is described to us as ‘a man after God’s
heart,’ one who sought unimpaired closeness to God. He is also shown to us as a
sinner, one whose relationships are repeatedly impaired through negligence, through
weakness, and through his own deliberate fault.
Now,
back to the Pharisee and the sinner woman. If we are honest, it is hard for us
to see either of them. For if Jesus is the Word [who] became flesh, they are
flesh-become-word: real people, shaped by particular circumstances and
experiences and with complex motivations, who have become characters in a
story. We can’t see them directly, and the temptation is to see only what we
want to see. Do you see this woman, and this man? Or do we only see a sinner,
and a Pharisee?
Both
this man and this woman desire to be close to Jesus, to spend time with him, to
do something for him, to know and be known by him. If we can see past a ‘Pharisee’
– who must surely have false motives, we tell ourselves – to ‘Simon,’ we might
discover someone who respects Jesus as a rabbi, an interpreter of God’s Law,
and who wonders whether he is more than that, a prophet speaking directly for
God. We might hear Jesus’ words as if for the first time, not ‘putting this
Pharisee in his place’ but gently helping Simon to make sense of his own
questions, his currently-perplexed assumptions and expectations concerning
prophets and sinners. Like Nathan telling a story to David, helping him reach
conclusions for himself, including accepting consequences and the need to make
restitution.
We might notice that both Simon and this woman have already been
forgiven; that far from judging Simon for his failings Jesus is absolving him,
as surely as he is reassuring her that she is forgiven. Jesus is good news for
the respectable and the disrespected alike. Nonetheless, while we are all
forgiven everything already, the more we realise this the more love we will
show. Note that the woman is not forgiven because she has shown great love, but
has shown great love because she has been forgiven much.
Such
love does not spare us from suffering – if anything, it will lead us into more,
both an awareness of our own sin, with its impact on others, and a refusal to
walk away from those who sin against us. No, love does not spare us from
suffering, but rather, it drives out fear, enabling us to carry on in peace, to
do what is right even at great cost.
And in a little while we will share that Peace,
symbolically. As we do so, do you see this woman, do you see this man, whose
hand touches yours?
