We are mysteries. We are theologies. (or, What it looks like when we figure out who we are)

Jesus is invited into the home of a  religious leader for dinner. A woman who evidently has quite a reputation (read “prostitute”) shows up at the house during dinner and standing at Jesus’ feet, she begins to weep. Her tears fall on his feet. Having nothing else to wipe them with, she bends down to wipe the tears away with her hair.

Then, kneeling there on the floor, her head close to his feet, she begins to kiss them. This woman begins to kiss the feet of Jesus. In public. In front of people.

What is she thinking? How does that decision happen — to shift from cleaning to kissing? What line gets crossed, what internal hat gets thrown into that ring? And what of those who are watching? This has to feel awkward. She has brought a vial of oil with her so now — having cried on them and kissed them — she goes one further and begins to massage his feet with oil.

This is now an uncomfortable scene for all of us.

How does Jesus remain true to himself in this moment?

It is a fair question and a relevant one. How does Jesus remain true to himself in the midst of all the strange decisions we make in his presence? How does he remain true to himself in any room, in any circumstance into which we drag him? If all there is to this life is what we can see, feel and touch, then what this woman is doing to Jesus is almost profane. Jesus should be embarrassed by this display and yet …

By the way the story is told (Luke 7), he doesn’t seem to be rattled at all.

Here’s the thing: If life is more than physical and people are more than bodies, then what looks like obscene may actually be holy. If life is more than physical and people are more than bodies, what this woman is doing there on the floor at the feet of Jesus is nothing less than sermon, sacrament, testimony, mystery and theology.

This scene is prevenient grace meeting justifying grace.

Somewhere out there in the streets healing power was poured out and now here in this house thanksgiving is being poured out in return.

Could this also be a marriage proposal? This alabaster box of precious ointment was probably meant to be this woman’s dowry. It is surely the most expensive thing she owns. Let that sink in: this woman is pouring her dowry over this man’s feet. This woman who has for years divorced her body from her soul has walked into this room, pulled out her dowry, knelt down before a man and offered him her life, her future and her heart.

Could it be that this woman is saying her divine “yes” to the God who has been pursuing her since the moment of her conception? Is she pouring out her dowry in a last-ditch attempt to marry the pieces of her broken life back together? Body and soul, reunited at the altar of redemption and thanksgiving?

Kissing the feet of Jesus, this woman has redefined her body and his. She is teaching us that our creation as male and female is not just biological. We are mysteries; we are theologies. We reflect the image of God. Reaching desperately back across the line of Genesis 3 for her  original design, she is giving her body back to God as she kneels before these feet even as God redeems her soul.

This scene is the creation story wrapped up in the new covenant.

Crossing back over Genesis 3, this woman joins a fellowship of biblical women who dared to walk back into the Garden of Eden. She is now in the company of the woman who grabbed the fringe of Jesus prayer shawl and the woman who reached out to touch the resurrected body of Jesus in the garden. She is in community with the woman who sat at his feet soaking in every word while her sister fussed over a meal in the kitchen, and also the woman at the well who dared to have a deep, theological discussion with Jesus before asking if she could drink from his well of living water.

This Fellowship of the Redeemed has discovered that in Jesus they can reconnect body to soul as they answer a deep hunger for their original design.

How does Jesus remain true to himself in all these encounters with broken women?

In these moments, Jesus is most true to himself. His response reminds us that we are more than plumbing and wiring. We are redeemed people with bodies and stories and spiritual gifts, all designed to be in partnership with God to build the Kingdom on earth.

We are mysteries; we are theologies.

Michelle Bauer says, “God created gender. What God did not create is all of the baggage that we have placed on gender over the years.” The shame, the lust, the fear, the ignorance of how connected we are — all this baggage masks our identity and separates body from soul. Perhaps this is humanity’s worst offense; when we separate body from soul we tear at the fabric of our created design.

And what if your hunger and your emptiness and your feelings of shame are actually your spirit reaching for your original design?

And what if the answer to that hunger and emptiness is found at the feet of Jesus?

Carolyn Moore

I follow Jesus within the communities of Mosaic Church, Asbury Seminary and the Moore household.

2 thoughts on “We are mysteries. We are theologies. (or, What it looks like when we figure out who we are)

  1. This is a new thought for me…how Jesus sees & interacts with shamed, broken women. Thisis helping me expand the thought that gender isn’t about who’s better, worth being heard & deserves the leadership spotclosest to Jesus.Thank you for unpeeling this for me. What a gift.

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