Letting Ourselves Really See

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a lame man, begging in the temple. Every day someone brought this man to the Temple to beg, placing him by a busy gate, in the midst of the traffic. He had been paralyzed from birth, we are told, but we do not know how small he was, how young he was, when they first carried him here, to earn his living. Probably very small. People have pity on small children.

Those people had watched this happen, day after day. They would see him settled into his place, perhaps gently, perhaps not. People would see this the way we see what is always there, seeing, but at the same time, not really seeing, because we don’t see, really see, what is right in front of us, day after day.

You have seen beggars before, street people we call them, cap in hand, or a coffee cup or bowl on the sidewalk. But do you really look at them? The pattern is the same now as it was long ago. The beggar notices you, looks down, and asks for money as you pass. Or, you notice the beggar, look away, and either to dig into your pocket or purse, or step around them.

But this time something was different. Peter and John stopped. They actually stopped. They had probably seen him before, maybe they had given him money before. But this time, they stopped and looked right at him. We know the beggar looked away because Peter said, “Look at us,” and the man looked up. He expected money, but Peter’s hand was empty.

Peter’s hand, a strong fisherman’s hand, was reaching out to him. “Stand up and walk!” Peter said. And Peter took the man’s right hand, to help him up. Peter told him, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to get up. “Get up and walk!”

And the guy got up! You would think that after a lifetime of being unable to walk, that he would be weak, helpless, wobbly. But no! His feet and ankles were strong. He could walk! He could jump!

This guy had been lame all his life. He had been there in the temple begging, every single day. Everyone knew him, and everyone hardly noticed him. People stop noticing what is usual, but when something unusual happens, they notice right away. And this day, everyone knew that something astonishing had happened. This was unusual! They saw this with their own eyes, that this man who had never walked before was walking and leaping at Peter’s side.

As I thought about this story, just after the total solar eclipse the other day, I thought of all the people who gathered to see that unusual thing. We see the sun. We see the moon. The twilight comes every day. Sometimes we pay attention, often we don’t. But the other day, we gathered because something amazing was happening. Imagine the same sort of hubbub in the temple that day, as people reacted with astonishment.

Peter saw his opportunity, and began to speak to the crowd. He told them that faith in Jesus had healed this man, the same Jesus they had given to Pilate for crucifixion. It had been only days since Jesus had stood there, right there, tossing over the tables of the money changers, and chasing out the livestock. THAT was unusual!

It was also only days since Jesus was arrested and killed. Sadly, though, crucifixion was a USUAL occurrence. Sometimes hundreds would be crucified at once. What WAS unusual about this crucifixion, Peter said, was that they had killed the Author of Life. The Author of Life – the one who spoke creation into existence, the one who was there from the very beginning, the one who had come in human form because of love, not love just for the humans, but for the whole creation.

Jesus often spoke of creatures that were other than human. He spoke about sheep and goats and wheat. He taught that God loved little birds and lilies. He said that if God looked after birds and lilies, God would look after people too. We are part of that creation, beloved by God.

Part of creation, and yet we tend to separate ourselves, as if we are above or better than the rest of creation. We say we humans are unique. We ARE unique. But we are still part of the created world. Yet, somehow, it was only the human animals who killed the Author of Life.

It’s like how they were saying that the four-leggeds, and the winged ones, did not need to be warned to avoid looking at the sun during the eclipse. Only human creatures need those warnings. So Peter told the crowd that they had killed Jesus out of ignorance. They did not understand. But not understanding what we are doing does not absolve us of responsibility. Just like not understanding the danger of looking at the sun does not protect our eyes from the consequences of our ignorance.

These days we may not be actively killing the Author of Life, but we have been killing Life itself. Some people have said that it doesn’t really matter if we destroy this world, because there will be a new heaven and a new Earth, and the sooner the better! But it DOES matter. God gave us THIS Earth to tend and care for, not to use until it is all used up!

I worry about what we are doing to this planet. I also get angry. A lot of people are angry these days about the carbon tax. I don’t know if it is going to work like they think it should, but do any of us have a better plan? I get angry at government policies and corporations that pay more attention to the bottom line than to the issues facing this planet.

But we need more than anger. We need love. If we are not in love with this world, with this earth, these trees, these birds and animals, if we are not in love, then we will not feel anger. We need to realize, when we say we are all part of one family, that we are part of more than just the human family. We are part of Creation. We need to think of ourselves as one of the creatures of the forest and field.

As Geneen Marie Haugen wrote, in a book called Spiritual Ecology, we should approach the rivers, mountains and dragonflies as if they are intelligent, and infused with soul. Isaiah wrote that the mountains and the hills would break into singing, and that the trees of the field would clap their hands. The Book of Job tells us about when the stars sang. The prophet Habbukkuk wrote that the stone in the stone walls would cry out, and that the woodwork would respond. And Jesus declared that if the people were silent, the very rocks themselves would cry out.

Most of time, we read those verses as metaphor, but what if that is the real nature of nature? What if Creation itself really is crying out like a woman in labor? What if Creation cries out, in praise, or in anger, and we just don’t see it? Or hear it? What if the grief of the world, of Creation, has been right there, right in front of us, every day, for so long, that we no longer notice? What if we step around the needs of Creation, just as we so often step around the needy person on the street?

Instead, could we take time every day to stop and really look? We took time the other day to pause in wonder at the eclipse, at the changing light, at the rising wind, and the response of the birds. Couldn’t we do that more often?

Couldn’t we be like Peter and John, stopping to actually spend time with the one who was in trouble? Peter and John stopped and spoke to the beggar. They connected with the beggar in a new way. They offered help, a hand up. They offered love and companionship. And they entered the temple together.