SEEST THOU THIS WOMAN?
(Lu. 7, 44)
SIMEON is a benevolent Pharisee, deferential toward Jesus, but icy and dignified.
The woman is a sinner, a former prostitute with whom Simeon is disgusted; yes, he sees her, all right! He knows her!
It is as when I ask someone: Do you know the ocean? and he then answers: I should say so! I have been standing in the downs watching the waves; I have seen them soaring to the height of houses while the wind whipped their foam into my eyes. Yes, I have seen the ocean—I know it, all right!
Then I answer: Pardon me, my dear—but if that is all you have seen, you do not know the ocean. You have not seen it while it lay calm and glittering and smooth like a mirror in the sunshine, nor have you noticed it when its surface was all alive with ripples, and when it roared with that hollow sound that betrays the presence of violent undertows far beneath the surface.
Thus with Simeon. That which he had seen and heard of this woman, had been brought to him, like the wind-swept foam of the sea, in the storm of evil tongues, and then he says: I should think I know her, indeed! I know to what kind she belongs. I see her—a low-down, vulgar and lewd woman!
But the undertow in the depth of her soul he had not seen; the heaving sighs from within he had not heard. He did not know how often she had been tossing restlessly upon her couch in moaning and anguish, nor how firmly she had been clutched by the wound-inflicting bonds of vice, nor how strongly she had tugged at them in order that she might set herself free.
And that was not the only thing Simeon did not see. The wind-swept foam had veiled his eye so he could not see what was really good in her at that moment despite her appearance stamped with sin. There were bitter tears of repentance. There was warmth of heart. There was love for Jesus.
Seest thou this woman? Seest thou this man?
How do you look at the people among whom you live? Do you notice only the uncouth exterior? Do you listen only to that which is carried to you by the wind of the evil tongues? Or do you listen to the undertow in the depths of the heart, to the heaving sighs, the hollow roaring from within?
The famous Italian sculptor, Michelangelo, once stood before a large coarsely chiseled slab of stone which he surveyed carefully, and with increasing pleasure, from all angles. "There is nothing extraordinary about this stone," a friend remarked, "what peculiarity do you notice?"
"What do I notice?" Michelangelo answered, "I see an angel within this stone, and I must release it."
It may be that our Lord Jesus did not exactly see an angel within this woman—nor does He see one in you and in me—but beneath the rough surface He saw a human soul created in the image of His Heavenly Father and after His likeness, and He said: I will release it!
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By looking at the undertow in the depths of the soul and by listening to the heaving sighs from within, you will be enabled to look at your fellow-beings with ever-increasing interest and—delight!