Every piece of glass does one of two things. It either lets light through or throws your image back at you. It either reflects you back to yourself or lets you see something beyond yourself.
We use glass for windows because, at its best, it is almost invisible. When it’s clean, you barely notice it’s there. It doesn’t call attention to itself. It opens a room. It widens your world. It lets you see what has always been there but has been beyond your reach. Windows reveal treasure.
The difference between a window and a mirror is surprisingly small. Just a coating. Just a layer. Just enough to turn something meant for seeing outward into something that traps your own image. But instead of expanding your view, it narrows it. Instead of revealing the world, it reflects you.
Stand at a window and something changes. You are no longer the focal point. The world stretches beyond you — hills, trees, traffic, sky, neighbors, weather. The glass disappears, and you find yourself looking outward instead of inward.
In other words, mirrors reflect desire, but windows reveal treasure.
And the truth is — we live in a culture that has coated the glass. We are surrounded by mirrors. We have learned to treat windows like mirrors. We look at the world, but what we mostly see is ourselves.
We scroll through images, and instead of seeing people, we measure how they make us feel. Attractive. Threatened. Envious. Superior. Desiring. We look at the earth and see what it can give us — energy, lumber, profit, and convenience.
We look at relationships and quietly calculate: What do I get from this? Security? Status? Validation? Pleasure? We look at politics and ask: Who protects my interests? Who advances my side? Who threatens my tribe? We look at the church and wonder: Does this feed me? Inspire me? Serve my family?
And the shift is almost invisible. We think we are looking at others. But so often, we are looking for ourselves. It is not that we are evil. It is how we are trained. Mirrors reflect desire, while windows reveal treasure.
We are trained by advertising to see desire before dignity. Trained by algorithms to see stimulation before the story. Trained by power to see the advantage before seeing humanity. We did not wake up one day and decide to reduce people to roles, bodies, votes, assets, consumers, or enemies. We simply learned to live in a hall of mirrors.
And in a hall of mirrors, everything bends back toward the one looking.
Speaking of mirrors, for episode 2 of our series, All y’all, we’re moving further along in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, where He says, “You have heard it said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’”
It’s a commandment everyone knows. It’s clear, concrete, and references forbidden behavior. But Jesus does not stay with behavior. Instead, He says, “But I say to you, everyone who looks…,” moving from the act to the gaze. From the visible line to the invisible posture. From the bedroom to the eyes.
And this is where we traditionally shrink the text enough for us to keep moving. We assume Jesus is only talking about sexual temptation. And most of us move on, leaving this teaching for those to whom it applies.
Well, okay, all of us probably step across the looking line occasionally, but it’s just innocent fascination, isn’t it? It’s not a big deal, is it?
The problem is that Jesus isn’t really talking about avoiding the possibility of having an affair by keeping our gaze where it belongs. We can’t simply move on because Jesus is talking to all of us. All y’all, and including me.
What if Jesus is really talking about mirrors and windows? After all, Jesus describes looking, and does not describe seduction. He describes the moment another person becomes something you imagine in terms of your wants and desires. Adultery is a great example because it grabs our attention long enough for Jesus to get to the real point.
You see, the deeper fracture is acquisitive sight — the reflex that turns a human being into something for me. That is mirror-seeing.
And it involves more than how we see an attractive person. For example, when we look at the earth and see only resources to extract, that is mirror-seeing. When we look at immigrants and see only a threat, that is mirror-seeing. When we look at political opponents and see only obstacles, that is mirror-seeing.
When we look at those who disagree with us and quietly imagine they must be dangerous, disposable, or in the way — that is mirror-seeing.
In other words, the bedroom is not the center of this teaching. Jesus is taking us out into the real world. He’s taking us to the office, out into the streets, and to the places where we play, shop, and work. That’s because the center of this teaching is what happens in your heart when you look at another person or anything else in creation, not through a window, but using a mirror.
Because before we ever use someone with our hands, we have already handled them with our sight. And once a window becomes a mirror, something else happens. People and creation stop being mysteries and start becoming instruments.
Consider this: There are two ways to treat something you’re looking at. As a tool. Or as a treasure. The difference is that a tool exists for my purposes, but a treasure exists in its own right. A tool is evaluated by its usefulness. A treasure is honored simply because it is.
If the earth is a tool, we extract. If people are tools, we exploit. If opponents are tools, we manipulate. If institutions are tools, we bend them. If bodies are tools, we consume.
But if what we are looking at is a treasure, then everything changes.
And this is where Jesus is pressing us. He was not focused on avoiding the temptation to have an affair. Rather, Jesus is telling each of us to see treasures through windows, rather than tools in a mirror. Because what you see determines what you value.
And what you value determines what you are willing to do.
A mirror never shows you the other person. It shows you yourself — your longing, your hunger, your appetite. And if all you ever see is your own desire bouncing back at you, eventually the people around you stop being people. They become possibilities. They become functions. They become tools.
Jewish philosopher Martin Buber describes this human tendency to see mirrors rather than see through windows as two fundamental ways we relate to the world. “I – it” is like seeing into a mirror. In this kind of relationship, the other is an object. Useful, measurable. and manageable. Something, or someone, to experience, categorize, or consume.
In an “I–Thou” relationship, the other is a presence, rather than an object to be used. They are a mystery to be encountered.
Mirrors train us to have I–it relationships. I-it is efficient, but I–Thou is sacred. So, when Jesus says that looking in a certain way already distorts the commandment, He is saying: you have learned to see others as I–it. You have learned to let desire define reality.
But the Kingdom of God that Jesus announces is built on I–Thou relationships. Seeing people as treasure. Windows reveal treasure. And that kind of sight changes everything.
In our companion book for this series, The Little Prince, there is a boy who loves a single rose. At first glance, it is just a rose. There are thousands like it. But over time, through attention and care, the rose becomes unique and special.
In his travels, the boy meets a fox who teaches him how to tame it so they can be friends. The boy learns two important lessons through their friendship. The first is, “It is the time you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important.” And, he learns, “One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”
The little Prince learned to see through windows. The rose becomes a treasure not because it reflects the prince’s desire, but because he has learned to see beyond himself.
Love does not reduce. Love does not consume. Love treasures. And windows reveal treasure.
And now, what Jesus says about blessings at the start of the Sermon on the Mount begins to sound different. For example, “Blessed are the pure in heart…” Purity here is not about repression. It is about clarity. An undivided gaze. A heart no longer turned inward on its own desire.
When a pure heart looks at another person, they see more than utility. More than attraction. More than a threat. More than an advantage. A pure heart sees God’s image. Breath. It sees belovedness. A pure heart sees treasure.
So when Jesus uses shocking language about eyes and hands, He is not advocating self-harm. Rather, He is speaking about urgency. Guard your sight. Because mirrors reflect desire. And desire, when enthroned, will shrink the world to the size of your appetite.
But windows reveal treasure. And when you learn to see treasure, you cannot use what you treasure. You protect it. You honor it. You take responsibility for it.
You no longer relate to other people or to God’s creation as tools to fulfill desire, but as treasures of great value. No longer I – it, but I–Thou.
Let’s start with slowing our gaze. Mirror-seeing is fast and reactive. It labels quickly and categorizes instantly. While window-seeing requires a pause. The next time you find yourself making a snap judgment, “What am I assuming? What story do I not know? What image of God might be standing in front of me?” That is, slow the gaze, and let the glass clear.
Second, name the treasure. When you are tempted to reduce someone to a function — coworker, opponent, customer, inconvenience — silently name what is sacred about them. Image-bearer. Breathing. Beloved. Someone’s child. Someone Jesus died for. You cannot easily use what you have named as treasure.
If your right eye causes you to sin, poke it out and throw it away. It is better to lose an eye than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.
Matthew 5:27–30
Mirrors reflect desire. Windows reveal treasure.
The difference between a mirror and a window is thin. Just a coating. Just a layer. And the coating our culture has applied is subtle. It tells us to evaluate everything by usefulness. By productivity. By attractiveness. By advantage.
But Jesus stands in the middle of that hall of mirrors and speaks to our eyes. “You have heard it said…” And then he moves from behavior to vision. Because before we ever misuse someone with our hands, we have already mis-seen them with our hearts.
The invitation of the Kingdom is not repression. It is restoration. To see clearly. To see as God sees. To see treasure where we once saw tools. To see Thou where we once saw It.
To look at a world trained by mirrors and choose the window instead.
When you begin to see treasure everywhere, the world becomes radiant again. The earth becomes a gift. Neighbors become sacred. Enemies become human. The church becomes family. And even you — standing not in front of a mirror but before God — become more than your performance, your failure, your desire.
You become beloved. Mirrors reflect desire. But windows reveal treasure.
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Pastor Tommy
Series concept and substantial content created and shared by © The Rev. Jeremy Peters, Court Street United Methodist Church, 2026. Used with permission.
Additional content from: Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. The Little Prince. Translated by Richard Howard. NY: Harper Collins, 2000.