Sunday, May 17, 2015
Ephesians 1:18, Psalm 47:6-7
May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened … God mounts his throne amid shouts of joy! Sing praise to God, sing praise; sing praise to our king, sing praise!
Jesus looks into my face. He knows one day I will die. But I ask him to touch my blinded eyes, and he does, and I can see. Until the day I die, I can see.
Jesus looks at me and sees me against the horizon of the infinite. He sees what is, and what will be, and his eyes don’t waver between these visions. He shows me how to live my life now and here, in the agonies of mortal mistaken-ridden post-Edenic life, and he shows me how to see through this brutality into the glory of life with God. He invites me into a glorious game of hide-and-seek, and hides with me; we are together hidden with Christ in God.
Richard Rohr suggests poetically that “the mystery of God as Trinity invites us into full participation with God, a flow, a relationship, a waterwheel of always outpouring love.”
Jesus looks through me, but he does not look past me. He sees the real Me, and he sees God, and he knows how connected we are. Our ligaments are visible, uncovered, and strong. Jesus embodies the connectedness that religion works toward (relig=re-connect), and invites me to use my eyes the way he uses his.
My homeless friend sits across the picnic table. We eat together. I look into his face and he smiles. We are looking for Jesus, who is inviting us into full participation with God. AND in this same moment of epiphany, we are full of fried chicken and looking forward to a nap. Here and now. May the eyes of our hearts be enlightened.
You are with us, Jesus, until the end of the world. You are with us always. Your eyes look on us, and through us, and always your love cushions our fall and joins in our celebration. Can we believe we are hidden with you? Hidden with Christ in God? Make us over in your image, and let us see the way you see. Heal our blindness, right now, right here in the middle of the world.