How
clearly can you see?
I’ve
just admitted defeat after decades of wearing glasses to drive, and
am the somewhat anxious owner of my first pair of variafocals. In
theory this should mean that absolutely everything is much clearer,
though I’m not completely convinced yet. I asked the Sub-Dean for
advice and he simply told me to follow my nose – but I’m not
quite sure that my nose knows where I’m heading, which makes me
feel rather like an unsuccessful blood-hound., so
I’m wearing my new glasses rather less than I should.
However
– the
whole experience has made me think hard about the gift of sight, and
the need to see clearly in order to navigate life without injuring
myself or anyone else.
And
that seems a good route in to today’s readings – and to Racial
Justice Sunday too.
It
seems to me that a great deal of what Christian spirituality is about
is "seeing."
When
Elijah was taken from him, the critical question for Elisha was
“would he see it happening”
On
that hung so much of his own future hopes
in
ministry …He would be given a double share of his Mentor’s spirit
if he had eyes to see, even
if to see is not always a joyful experience. Whenever I read this
passage I’m struck by Elisha’s desolation “father, father...the
chariots of Israel and its horsemen”
He
can see that for Elijah there is no going back. He really is leaving,
so Elisha stands, bereft, tearing his garments, confronted
by the
incontrovertible
evidence of
his own eyes.
Clear
vision isn’t always welcome – as we begin to comprehend things,
notice
hard truths that
we just hadn’t seen before.
When
I was a child, Racial Justice Sunday simply hadn’t been thought of.
It
was first marked in 1995 though it has taken far longer to gain a
secure foot-hold. At
its best, I imagine that the Church of
my childhood was
full of benevolent paternalism, that my mother’s view that to be
colour blind was the best possible approach
was pretty widespread, that nobody had noticed, somehow, that the
playing field on
which different races and colours were standing
was unimaginably far from a level one. It
took a long time before anyone felt able to acknowledge that.
It
would be great to be able to say “But that’s all gone now...” -
except that clearly, it isn’t. If
we’d learned, then there might be no need for Racial Justice Sunday
at all -….but you’ll know the statistics as well as I do...how
much harder it can be to simply get through life, let alone thrive,
if, to put it crudely, your face doesn’t fit.
It
can be very hard indeed to truly see and name the situation for what
it is. White
privilege remains white privilege whether we acknowledge it or
not...and can be internalised in myriad unhealthy ways. I discovered
this for
myself when
I first spent time in India, as part of a diocesan exchange
programme. Wherever
we went, with our Indian clergy hosts, queues formed to ask for
blessings and I discovered that there was an unexpected hierarchy at
play, such that the hands of a white British priest, - even a woman-
were perceived as somehow more holy than the hands of the faithful
Indian
priests who served those communities day in day out. It was shocking,
unwelcome but undeniable. The myth of white superiority had been so
thoroughly absorbed in those rural communities, it
was hard to imagine an appropriate response that did not look simply
ungracious. And, after all, that myth had its origins in the days of
the Raj...it was my forbears who had taught those communities that
they were of second rank, second value.
Simply
because I was, in effect, wearing new glasses, this did not change
the view for everyone. Seeing clearly can be very hard work…Sometimes
the gospel, the truth of God’s unconditional, all-inclusive love,
seems to be veiled by the very institutions that exist to embody it –
and that is something of which the Church must, and does, repent.
But
the truth, of course, is always there,
whether we see it or not, just
as it was for the disciples on the holy mountain. Listen to these
words from Madeleine l’Engle’s wonderful book The Irrational
Season:
"Suddenly they saw him the way he was; the way he
really was all the time, although they had never seen it before, the
glory which blinds the everyday eye and so becomes invisible. This is
how he was, radiant, brilliant, carrying joy like a flaming sun in
his hands. This is the way he was - is - from the beginning and we
cannot bear it. So he manned himself, came manifest to us; and there
on the mountain, they saw him; they really saw him, saw his light.
Now, perhaps, we will see each other, too."
NOW
PERHAPS WE SHALL SEE EACH OTHER TOO.
That
must be our task, on this Racial Justice Sunday.
To
see ourselves, to
see the
unconscious privilege that some
of us enjoy
and to repent of that.
To
see the face of Christ in
all whom we meet, regardless
of race, colour or all the other external markers that might deceive
us or threaten to distort our vision.
To
see Christ and so seeing, to love and serve him as he loves and
serves us all.
So,
how
clearly can you see?
Perhaps
you need new glasses yourself...
As
a pilgrim in the Holy Land some years ago, my own experience on the
Mountain of the Transfiguration provided the kind of lesson
I wish
I didn’t
need. We visited in January, and as
the group emerged
from our taxis close
to the church, cloud
did
indeed overshadow us so that we
could see – , honestly,
precisely
NOTHING.
Inside
the church building all was gold and blazing splendour – the image
of Jesus with Moses and Elijah instantly recognisable and
unmissable.above
the altar
Outside, though, I could barely see the ground at my feet...had no
idea where I was heading...was
in real danger of falling over my own feet or tripping up others..
I
know I can be guilty of that in daily life too. I just don’t see…
But
perhaps
that
is
the task of priesthood: simply to help others to see.
Or
better yet, perhaps we can help each other..
Would
you help me?
Together
we might learn to
see God’s presence in everything and
everyone,
to see one another with his eyes of love…with no judgement, no
comparison, neither
anxiety, pride
nor
fear…
To
look at one another and to see, not those features that divide us,
those characteristics that irritate...but, like the disciples, only
Jesus.
As
we begin our journey through Lent, our eyes fixed on the cross and
the love that transforms
it,,
let us pray for that
grace to see God’s glory blazing through the ordinary til
everything
is extraordinary, everything illuminated.
May
we see
that
more and more til the
day dawns and the
morning
star rises in our hearts.