Be Like Jesus … See One Another

The traditional themes for today’s readings are the sabbath—the importance of taking time to rest—and how we interpret the law—what I would frame as the letter of the law versus the spirit of the law.

In the interest of keeping this relatively short so we can get on with the picnic, I would like to focus on a single phrase in today’s gospel:

“Jesus saw her”.

Now, there’s a lot going on in today’s gospel so you may be asking yourself, “why that phrase?”

And that’s a legitimate question.

You see, I have a mental picture of this story.

I think we all tend to do that—visualize the story that we’re reading.

When I read this story, I see the woman, bent over at the waist for almost 2 decades.

She’s unable to look directly at anyone, except maybe small children.

And they are likely afraid of her.

She sees only legs, feet, and sandals.

But Jesus sees her.

Even though she is bent over and probably lost in the crowd, Jesus sees her.

There is nothing in the text to indicate that she sought Jesus out.

But he sees her anyway.

Just as God saw Hagar in the desert, Jesus sees her.

Jesus is the God who sees.

And just as God gave Hagar comfort and hope, Jesus does the same for the afflicted woman.

And in my mind’s eye, when Jesus speaks to the woman, he crouches down to her level—to speak to her face-to-face.

That is the Jesus that we know and love.

Amidst a crowd of people, he singles out the one who has been marginalized.

The one who has been overlooked and outcast.

The one who is most in need of his help.

The one who is most in need of his love.

He does not wait for her to come to him.And he doesn’t just heal her—he FREES her.

I think this idea of seeing and being seen is central to what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

All too often, we go through life with blinders on—seeing only what we choose to see.

And, more importantly, WHO we want to see.

We may see hungry people in our own community who come to the UMC soup kitchen for food, but we choose not to see the women and children starving in Gaza.

We may see the LGBTQ+ folks that are our friends and family members, but we choose not to see the ones that are too flamboyant, too “in your face”, or that we just don’t understand.

We may see the mom with postpartum depression and the teen with anxiety but we choose not to see Deborah Terrell—a senior with mental illness¬—who was killed by New Brunswick police 2 weeks ago.

We CHOOSE who we see.

But Jesus sees us all.

Jesus commanded us to love one another.

I believe that loving one another starts with seeing one another.

And not just seeing a sanitized version of the world—but the world we actually live in.

Because the world that we live in is not the Kin-dom.

The Kin-dom is near, but it is not yet.

Some parts of this world are beautiful.

Other parts are unpleasant—scary even.

But we need to see all of it.

Because, if we don’t see the unpleasant and scary parts, we cannot work to change them.

If we don’t see children starving in Gaza, we won’t ask our representatives to vote for policies that call for a ceasefire and demand that aid gets into Gaza.

If we don’t see the Deborah Terrells of the world, we won’t fight for mental health quick response teams to de-escalate tense situations.

Like most people nowadays, I have a smart phone.

And I often relax by scrolling through social media.

Lately, I have been fascinated by videos of this guy who sings to animals and their reaction to his singing.

There are dozens of these videos.

He’s either French or perhaps French Canadian.

It’s just him and his guitar singing for animals.

I’ve watched him sing for every kind of animal imaginable—parrots, cows, horses, penguins, sea lions, giraffes, elephants, raccoons, and lemurs.

And, in every instance, the animals are drawn to him—or at least to his music.

I’d venture to say that, had he not played music, the animals would have just ignored him.

They wouldn’t have seen him.

But the music draws them.

Maybe it’s curiosity, but I believe that it’s something deeper.

There is something about music that connects us—people to people, people to God, and people to animals.

I might even go so far as to say that music—our ability to create music—is a gift of our divine image.

In a few minutes, this service will be over, and we will enjoy a picnic together.

Many of you have known each other for decades.

But there is something very different about sitting next to each other in a pew and sharing stories over a cheeseburger.

Sharing a meal together is something integral to the practice of our Lutheran faith.

We even joke about it.

“You know you might be Lutheran if potluck dinner is your favorite indoor sport” or

“You know you might be Lutheran if you count coffee hour as one of the sacraments”.

But the reason it is so important to us is that breaking bread together changes relationships.

It deepens our connection.

It helps us to see each other differently.

I would argue that it also makes us see each other more fully.

So that’s the thought I’d like to leave you with.

Just like music draws animals to see the man, let see—truly see—one another.

Just as we see each other more completely over a shared meal, let us see ALL our siblings—even the ones we might prefer not to see.

And, just as God saw Hagar and Jesus saw the afflicted woman, let us not only see our siblings in distress, but let us also offer them comfort and hope.

Because the divine image that we share binds us.

And the beacon of that image draws us together.

May this meditation on God’s word keep our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus. Amen.