I read this today and it profoundly connected with my own musings and observations of late.
It was a spiritual kinsman of St Isaac, the Father Zossima of The Brothers Karamazov, who showed how our direct responsibility for our own bodies and for dumb creatures may indirectly stretch yet further. In his final conversations father Zossima describes how our very faces may indireclty produce momentous consequences. He asks us to think of a child walking down a street, rather bewildered by the evil in the world and searching for signs that life has meaning. If we have over the years allowed our hearts to become embittered, that will be reflected in our faces. So when the child has seen our face the image that will remain in his heart will be of evil and meaninglessness. It may turn out that our face has sown a seed of evil in the child which will one day overgrow his whole heart. On the other hand, if we have over the years filled our hearts with love, that also will be reflected in our faces and the passing child in the street will be encouraged by what he sees to find meaning in life.
Nor is such an illustration by any means imaginary. We have from the pen of Olivier Clément a moving account of how a face saved his life. It as in the days when he was an atheist, though an unhappy one. He was so unhappy, in fact, and so oppressed by the meaninglessness of human life that he was seriously thinking of committing suicide. Then one day as he was walking depressed beside the Mediterranean sea-shore his attention was riveted by the face of someone who was passing by. The person’s face was radiant with meaning, full of such goodness as can only come from years of cultivating a loving heart. In a twinkling Clément’s suicidal thoughts were dispelled and a seed sown in his heart that was eventually to transform him into an ardent believer. Not surprisingly, Clément asserts with warm conviction that there is a branch of theology that is properly described as a ‘theology of faces.’ —Donald Nicholl, Holiness (New York: Seabury Press, 1981), 48-49.
Source: Shirt of Flame
I wonder how much of the unrest, protests and violence today is caused because those committing these acts feel they are invisible. I suspect much of it is. Have you looked around lately when you’re in a crowd? How many sets of eyes actually raise up to meet your own? How many are staring at their shoes or more likely…at a digital screen?
How many lash out because it’s the only way they can think of anymore to get someone…anyone…to pay them attention? When I see a rioter or a protester I see my toddler (when I had a toddler) lashing out in order to get my attention.
I see a lot of things these days through the tired eyes of a parent.
We don’t look at each other in the eyes anymore as a species. I think that is one of the greatest problems we face today. Comments are entered on the internet in anger or biting sarcasm as we viscerally cut those whom we cannot see.
One of the great miracles of the Incarnation of God made man was his desire to enter into His creation and to look us in the eye. When we peer into the manger at the child wrapped and fragile in human flesh we look into the very Creator of the universe. Time and eternity meet our humanity in a glance.
Don’t be quick to look away this Christmas. You are made in the Imago Dei. The image of God. Your eyes contain the power to change someone’s life.
Your eyes show them they matter.
Tell them that they are not invisible.
Demonstrate that they are indeed seen by someone else.
No longer alone, two-dimensional and empty. But surrounded by love, hope and joy, three-dimensional and full of the Spirit and able to do the same for others.
This Christmas I’m grateful for a God whose eyes are much older than my own, but that are never tired.
I’m thankful that He came for me.
He sees my face.
Even when my eyes are closed to His presence, He sees me.
Thank you for those in my own life who look me in the eye when I feel unworthy, lost and alone. I needed that.
We need each other.
My Jesus, I forever thank You for allowing me to see You.
I thank You for being visible in all the grandeur of nature, in the mountains, the streams, the oceans, the trees. I thank You for being visible in the beauty of the stars, the sky, the magnificence of the sun.
I thank You for being visible in every beating heart, in every created life. I thank You that I am able to see the gift of love, instilled in every human being, and so often abused, crushed, neglected by the world.
My Jesus, You are visible in every act of charity and compassion, in the forgiveness of every hurt, in every sacrifice offered for another. I thank You for allowing me to see You in the pain and suffering of all people in their struggles.
My Jesus, You are visible in every baby’s smile, in every mother’s caress, in the innocence of every child and the willingness of every mother to say “yes” to life. I thank You for being visible in every miracle, in every healing, in every conversion, in the joy of every soul who has suddenly accepted Your existence.
I thank You for being visible in the faith and trust of countless millions, in the perpetual existence of Your Church in the face of centuries of persecution. I thank You for being visible to me now, in my prayer, in my trust. In every day of my life, in every need, in every way.
Jesus, You died for my sins and I thank You for allowing me to see that sacrifice perpetually before me in the Eucharist. Jesus, I especially thank You for being so visible to me through Your forgiveness and love in the midst of my failures and sins. The world never has.