In Your Eyes

It has not escaped me that God has put this Peter Gabriel song my path more often during Holy Week than usual. A song I haven't heard in years suddenly continues to repeat itself throughout my day, in restaurants or events...and apparently there is a remake of it.
I remember the one around 1990.

But right now, all I can see is the face of Jesus in the Passion of Christ. And his mothers eyes. I can't stop thinking about them, perhaps if I write about them, I will be able to let it go.

I think what I connect to is the fact that I try to really see the people in front of me. The eyes are the window to the soul. They eyes will tell the truth when the mouth is saying something else completely. Some people know this truth and have mastered the skill of hiding their soul from me and from others who see, but they can't keep it up forever. Patience obtains all things. That's what Teresa of Avila writes. Be patient and you will see the real person.

Jesus and his mother, though, are forever open to each other. Each draws strength from the other. Each endures all things because they are doing it together. When one falls, the other reaches out. When one is weak, the other is strong. And between them, they will never know loneliness. The bond between Jesus and Mary reaches even beyond the eyes. But the eyes are something we, as observers, can see and measure. But as observers, we know what we see is only a small glimpse of the reality that together, they bring about the deal of the millenium. I never quite got that until I watched the movie.

The scene I cannot remove from my head is when Mary places her head on the stone floor. Jesus is tethered to the wall in chains below her. And they both know that they are together. They are not alone. And God is in the thick of it all.

I just can't let it go. It all seems to make more sense now. It even calms me a bit. Because I know that we are more than flesh and blood and bone. I can see it when I look into someone eyes. There is a truth there that ultimately wants to know and be known. The miracle occurs when we get brave, or humble, or both and let it out. Share it. Risk it. And oh my heavens, love it!

I am thinking about the priest who did not look into my eyes to understand me, who only looked on the surface...and understood nothing but what he knew from his books...or his experience...and was not present for the 'right now.' I'm not faulting him, most people can't bear to go into what is real.

Because "real" changes us. It bends us into something new and probably uncomfortable in the beginning. But real is so very cool, because it brings us closer to God. The false self always wants things in a nice order so that the false self can commend itself daily for the good job it does...productive, making money, complimented, promoted, rewarded...surrounded by wonderful early delights and everyone is envious of his life. Walter Mitty, perhaps.

But we all want to be really known. And accepted.

That's what I saw between Jesus and his mother. An earthly example of perfect love.
I see it in their eyes. But mostly I feel it in my heart.

Love,
Cindy