the eyes have it

I have been really touched by the sermons that my pastor at Trinity has given over the past few weeks. He has been preaching on the Gospel passages from the Lectionary, most of which have been from John. Instead of offering a heavy dose of Christology, he has presented rather impressionistic reflections that have drawn me into the story and into an deeper appreciation of Jesus’ life and ministry. I highly recommend the series, which can be found on the church’s website.

Last Sunday’s passage recounted Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. While Dr. Dan was preaching, I realized that I have always missed an important detail in the narrative – that Jesus meets her in middle of the day. He pointed out that women typically went to get water at earlier or cooler times. But this woman, who had been ostracized by her community, went when the chance of bumping into others would be slim. I can imagine that she had been wounded by the disapproving glances of her neighbors, the gossip behind her back or the outright discrimination that she experienced because of her mistakes and impropriety. She was no stranger to shame and rejection. Jesus must have known that there was something strange about her coming to the well at this time of day; it gave away the fact that she was on the fringe of the community.

But despite all of this, she found something compelling, gentle and healing in Jesus’ gaze. The barriers were broken down. He diffused her shame. First his loving eyes and then his words let her know that she was one of God’s beloved. They helped her to begin a journey of reclaiming her self-esteem and dignity – an understanding that, despite what her family, neighbors or religious community might say, her mistakes, weaknesses and sins did not separate her from God’s love. And Dr. Dan pointed out that this awakening must have been evident in her eyes after this encounter, because when she went back to the town to tell them about Jesus people actually took her seriously and came to check him out. She must have shown a vulnerability, a freedom or a renewed sense of dignity that indicated an encounter with someone or something quite amazing.

As I think about what the Samaritan woman saw in Jesus’ eyes, I am reminded of some powerful words by James Alison:

“It seems to me that the doctrine of the incarnation of our Lord, the image of God coming among us as like likeness of humans, is a strong statement that the divine regard is one of liking us, here and now, as we are. Glad to be with us. And this means that one one who looks at us with love is not just looking at us with a penetrating and inscrutable gaze of utter otherness, but is looking at us with the delight of one who enjoys our company, who wants to be one with us, to share in something with us.

Our faith is that the eyes of God that are in Christ, and thus the divine regard through which we can receive new being, are eyes that like us, from alongside, at the same level as us. Which means they do not control us, do not try to “know better than us” who we are, but want to participate in a discovery with us of who we are to become.” (On Being Liked, pg. 107-08)

I would like to believe that the Samaritan saw eyes of genuine love and, even more, the eyes of someone who simply delighted to be with her. Rather than judgement and disdain, she saw the eyes of someone who wanted her to become a free and happy person, with a sense of purpose and dignity. And the miracle is that the eyes of this newly-freed, deeply-liked woman brought freedom and hope to others. I’m reminded of another quote, this one attributed to Nelson Mandela:

“We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. Its not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I’m sure there is so much more to this passage but today I am touched by the loving and liberating presence of Jesus, by his eyes of acceptance. And I believe more passionately that one of the greatest gifts that I can can share with the world are eyes that radiate the acceptance and freedom that I have found in him.

Be the Gardener of my Soul

Spirit of the Living God,
be the Gardener of my soul.
For so long I have waited, quiet and still -
experiencing a winter of the soul.

But now, in the strong name of Jesus I dare to ask:
Clear away the dead growth of the past.
Break up the hard clods of custom and routine.
Stir in the rich compost of vision and challenge.
Bury deep in my heart the implanted Word.
Cultivate and water and tend my heart
until new life buds and opens and flowers. Amen.

- Richard Foster, from Prayers of the Heart

The past few weeks have been relatively quiet for me. I feel like there hasn’t been much to blog about. But tonight I found myself re-reading a small journal that I kept during college and was reminded of this beautiful prayer.

As we near the end of winter and prepare for spring, it helps me to remember that God is always at work beneath the surface, in hidden and mysterious ways. No part of us is hidden from the Gardener, even the cold and barren places in our hearts that may feel far from light and love.

And I find comfort that Jesus is not just content to be our Savior and Sovereign (significant as these names may be, they both feel distant and formal) but also wants to care for our souls. He is willing to get his hands dirty to help us become the whole and fruitful people that we were created to be.

Messiaen sticks with ya

I’m not a big concertgoer but I went to hear a performance of Olivier Messiaen’s Turangalîla Symphony at a Saint Louis Symphony Fusion concert on Tuesday night. It feels strange to write but the sounds that I heard are still alive in me five days later. I think the piece is one of the great symphonic works of the 20th century but is not a symphony in the classic four-movement sense. Instead it’s something like a collection of 10 meditations. The symphony’s title is a combination of two Hindu words roughly translated “love song and hymn of joy, time, movement, rhythm, life, and/or death.” It covers all of this territory and then some!

The first third of the concert was comprised of “living” program notes given by conductor David Robertson in which the orchestra and soloists performed excerpts to give a sense of what to listen for. It was such a helpful way to enter Messiaen’s unique sound world. The commentary was brilliantly presented and included references to artwork and literature that gave a better understanding of the composer and his zeitgeist. There was a brief intermission and then the orchestra performed the symphony from start to finish.

For the first time ever, I kept my eyes closed during the entire performance. (No risk of falling asleep with this music!) And as I left the visual world behind my ears came alive. I started hearing amazingly rich colors and sonorities, was surprised and delighted by the form of the piece (fast-paced at times and very static in others), and felt a level of connection to the music that I have rarely experienced before. In the middle of the piece (end of movement five) I can still recall this shimmering final chord that overwhelmed me with its strength and deep power. I can still hear the doubling of several melodies with the unique combination of piccolo and bassoon. And then there were the bells…the joyous, exuberant sound of the piano, chimes and other ringing instruments. The orchestra played their hearts out; you could feel it. And the applause at the end was not the gratuitous, polite symphony fare. I jumped to my feet and went hoarse from shouting bravo. My hands hurt from clapping so hard. It was nothing short of amazing.

The music took me to a place that I have seldom been before and I’m not sure if it’s because I was open to it, there was a unique energy among the players and conductor, or it was just the luck of the draw. Somehow I also wonder if it has to do with the composer’s intention. I remember a section from the book Music and Color, which is a series of interviews with Messiaen. He talks with great ease about his Catholic faith, how it relates to his music, and how he intends his orchestral compositions (almost of which are rooted in the Christian faith) to transform the concert hall into a sacred space.

I certainly experienced this on Tuesday. It was a profoundly reconnecting experience that has made me deeply grateful for life, for the gift of music and for the amazing creativity and energy that the Creator has given to the humans who shape those sounds into life- and faith-affirming expressions.