Borrowing the Eyes of God

Most of us view “mysticism” as a mysterious quality that doesn’t pertain to us. We believe it’s a type of insight that is exclusive to saints, who seem to have a particularly intimate relationship with God. German theologian Dorothee Soelle provides a different perspective: she believes that mysticism is not a new vision of God, “but a different relationship to the world — one that has borrowed the eyes of God.”

How would our relationship to the world be different if we saw it through God’s eyes? According to the book of Genesis, God looked at everything God created and said, “It is good.” We can take that to mean that for God, everything has value and contributes to the wholeness of creation. Unlike us, God does not look at weeds and mosquitos and proclaim them “bad.” People tend to have an “anthropocentric” view that considers humans to be the most important thing in the universe, so we judge everything from the perspective of its benefit to us. God has a broader vision of a world in which everything is part of the body of Christ and thus should be valued and reverenced.

If we borrowed the eyes of God, we also would be astonished to view everything through the lens of compassion and mercy. Jesus wasn’t kidding when he said we should forgive others “70 x 7” times, because in doing so, we are imitating God’s way of forgiving. This doesn’t mean that our behavior doesn’t have consequences; as Joan Chittister has said, “Sin punishes sin; self-centeredness destroys itself; God doesn’t punish sin.” We are the agents of our own punishment through our choices. God sees the goodness that is our birthright and pities us when we cut ourselves off from the source of life. Because of God’s unfailing love, we can always trust in God’s mercy.

When we embrace mysticism and start developing a relationship to the world though God’s perspective, we are relieved of the burden of judgment, which is a great gift. We become more attuned to beauty, to wonder, to possibility. This is not an outlook that is confined to saints — it is available to each of us when we make a conscious effort to see with the eyes of God!

The Sacrament of Astonishment

In the acknowledgments to One Long River of Song, a collection of essays by Brian Doyle that was published after his death, his wife said, “I believe Brian had already been to heaven and back and found it irresistible not to return and restore astonishment, which is a sacrament.”

After his resurrection, Jesus appeared to his disciples before he had ascended to his Father, but he too offered them the sacrament of astonishment. The one who was dead is alive! Death is not what it seems! Nothing can keep us from the love of God! And Jesus did not appear only once, which might lead the disciples to wonder if they had been dreaming. No, as Elisabeth Johnson says in a reflection on the Working Preacher website,

“What is more, he keeps showing up. As he came back a week later for Thomas, Jesus keeps coming back week after week among his gathered disciples — in the word, the water, the bread, and the wine — not wanting any to miss out on the life and peace he gives.”

The sacrament of astonishment — that is, being present to the wonders and love of God that surround us — prevents us from missing out on the life and peace Christ brings. We cannot allow the routine, frustrations, and busyness of daily life to keep us from following the instructions for living a life, as articulated by Mary Oliver in her poem Sometimes: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

The last of those instructions is important: Tell about it. That is the commission Christ gave us: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Brian Doyle called attention to the wonders of life through his beautifully written essays. We may choose to do so through art, music, poetry, gardening, teaching, prayer, or a myriad of other ways.

Perhaps the simplest way to practice the sacrament of astonishment is to live a life filled with gratitude. You will be astonished to see the difference it makes to walk through your day with “thank you” on your lips. And what better way to tell others about Christ’s gifts of life and peace that are so desperately needed in our world?

No One Is Meant to Suffer Alone

In her spiritual classic The Way of the Cross, Caryll Houselander says that one thing we can learn from Jesus’ passion is that “no one is meant to suffer alone.” Those who helped Jesus bear his suffering included Mary of Bethany, who anointed Jesus’ feet with costly perfume in anticipation of his death; Simon of Cyrene, who carried Jesus’ cross during part of his march to Golgotha; and the disciple John, who at the foot of the cross agreed to take Jesus’ mother into his care.

Others failed to accompany Jesus in his suffering. As Houselander notes, “He asked the three apostles … for sympathy in the garden of Gethsemane. He did not ask them to do anything to avert his suffering, but only to be with him in it, to share it with him through compassion: ‘Could you not watch one hour with me?’”

We, who are called to see Christ in each other, also are asked to be with Christ in his suffering. As Matthew says so eloquently in his gospel (25: 31-45), when we feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the ill, and visit those in prison, Christ says, “You did it for me.”

To be with those who are suffering when we can offer them nothing but our presence is especially difficult. We all encounter among our family, friends, and communities those who are facing death, have chronic, debilitating physical or mental illness, or are grieving a loss. We feel helpless because we can’t avert their suffering; all we can do is sit with them and listen. And yet, that is all Christ asks of us — to remember that no one is meant to suffer alone.

On Good Friday, we are called to watch and wait at the foot of the cross. On Holy Saturday, we are called to watch and wait at the tomb. If we are faithful in our presence in dark times, we will also be graced to witness the new life that always emerges through our communion with Christ.

Imperfect Timing

Most of us experience with some regularity what we would call “imperfect timing.” I’m in the midst of an episode right now: As soon as I started a week as acolyte (reader of prayers) at morning and evening prayer at the Mount, I came down with a sore throat/cold that impairs my ability to speak.

When it comes to a cold, “this too shall pass,” but other examples of imperfect timing can change a person’s life direction: an unexpected pregnancy, the need to care for an aging parent, or the loss of a job, for example.

In his poem The Guest House, the Persian poet Rumi says that the occasions we view as imperfect timing may be “violently sweeping your house empty of its furniture,” thus “clearing you out for some new delight.” Typically, we aren’t able to appreciate the value of imperfect timing in the moment. It is only in hindsight that we see how a cold may be signaling the need for more rest, an unplanned pregnancy may bring joy to our family, caring for an aging parent may strengthen this vital relationship, and the loss of a job may lead us to our true vocation.

If we believe that “the Divine Presence is everywhere,” as St. Benedict says in his Rule, we know our Consoler is always at hand to help us adjust to difficult circumstances and that love will keep flowing through our lives — perhaps not in the way we envisioned or desired, but bringing its own wisdom and delight.

From our human point of view, the timing of events in our lives is often imperfect. When we choose to dwell with God in the realm of possibility, we stop judging timing as good or bad and trust that what unfolds will lead to love in some shape or form, no matter how unexpected.

The Divine Adventure

Photo by Pete Nowicki on Unsplash

People seeking wilderness adventures usually entrust themselves to an experienced guide, whether they are kayaking on Class V rapids, climbing Mount Everest, or hiking in the Amazon. Although we may never have pictured God as an adventure guide, Scripture is filled with stories of people who “plunged themselves into the divine adventure,” as Chiara Lubich put it:

• Abraham laid out a ritual offering per God’s instructions and watched in amazement as a smoking firepot and a flaming torch passed between the carcasses

• The Israelites were led by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night as they fled Egypt, and they were provided with water flowing from a rock and bread in the form of hoarfrost

• A widow at Zarephath fed the prophet Ezekiel the last of her provisions during a famine and found that her jar of flour and jug of oil never ran dry

• Mary of Nazareth agreed to bear God’s son and was offered protection of Joseph, who followed the advice of angels who visited him in his dreams

Those of us who are adverse to risk might well be reluctant to choose God as our guide, for to do so seems to mean that we should expect the unexpected. However, a common thread in the lives of those who do place their trust in God is that they are led to new life, whether that means a new home, a new occupation, sustenance in hard times, or the gift of a child.

When Chiara Lubich plunged into the divine adventure in the midst of World War II, she was led to start a movement called “the Focolare” (meaning “hearth”) that promoted unity, reconciliation and the spirit of love and fostered the spirit of renewal that took shape in Vatican II. As noted in the March 2022 issue of Give Us This Day, the movement was “based in small communities of both married families and single people and eventually spread to 180 countries, promoting a unity across all borders of religion, race, and nation.” When we place ourselves in the hands of our divine adventure guide, there is no telling where we will be led, but we can trust that we will find ourselves in a place of abundance and blessing.