Open Your Eyes, And While You're At It, SEE
How a biblical conundrum serves up a contemporary challenge.
Pearl S. Buck
(Photo by Bud Helisson on Unsplash)
Eyes and Seeing
“Look for what is not there,” my seminary mentors tell me, over and over. See?
The gospels record Jesus restoring sight to literal eyes and challenging people to open their soul-eyes— “Do you have eyes and fail to see?” Jesus queried on more than one occasion. (Mk 8:18 NRSV)***
Have you ever noticed how the gospel of Luke talks about all the women and poor people, bearing witness, when no one else even notices them? This is one of the reasons I think Luke wasn’t a dude, but I digress.
Seeing, Saw, Seen... See?
What is about the eyes that so captures our attention?
I think it’s interesting that both the Hebrew Bible, written in ancient Hebrew and Aramaic languages, and the New Testament, written mostly in Greek, refer so often to the eyes. The Scriptures are not the only ancient literature demonstrating the timelessness of peoples’ fascination with eyes, either— check out this article. The fact that across thousands of years and throughout a myriad of cultures, the eyes have drawn the attention of scientists, physicians, philosophers, and theologians (aka- almost everyone) is worth noting.
Are those of us who are sighted captivated by eyes because we cannot see our own? (Here I’m willing to bet that my non-sighted friends would have in"sight” that would add so much depth to this conversation.) Is it that when we are talking to someone else we see their eyes and they see ours, but not vise versa?
Do we believe, as the famous saying goes, that the eyes are the window to the soul?
Jacques Derrida, intrepid philosopher, said “…one can find one’s childhood in the look of the eyes.”
Could there be something more going on with the eyes than what meets the eye, something deeper that doesn’t have to do with sight at all? When we think about eyes and sight, are we actually pondering perception? Are we mind-blown by the fact that we all perceive differently, that when confronted with information or ideas or events, we don’t all notice the same stuff?
“There are various eyes,” considered Nietzche, “Even the Sphinx has eyes: and as a result there are various truths, and as a result there is no truth.” (Before you argue, sit with this thought; play around with its implications.)
“Through the eyes,” reasoned Derrida, “the inner soul presents itself to the outside.”
What’s this to do with me?
I can get a little judgy about the perceiving side of seeing. Like, I can go on all day about how my friend just can’t see what’s right in front of him— and I’m the queen of wanting everyone to see what I see.
Do you see? It’s right there… like this…
Don’t you see? Why not? Why can’t you?
See? See?
If I turn the script around, though, I feel bullied by these same questions, because I’m always trying.
“I don’t see, but I want to,” I scream back at them.
I remember…
— my literature teacher saying, “what do you think this means?” and then responding, “no, that’s not it.”— my math teacher, frustrated because word problems stump me: “it’s easy, see?!” — undergrad philosophy and so many “c’s” — parts of me that have sprung up which I did not see until they showed up, and I, shocked, wondered how I did not see them before — something new, a baby, a paradigm, bringing attention to what I never perceived before; me asking, “how did I not see this?”—
As a child, I couldn’t get over Paul’s words, “Now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face…”; as an adult, I still haven’t gotten over these words:
What is it to see in a mirror dimly? Why a mirror? Or is it a glass? Like window glass? (Did they have that back in the day?) What is it to see dimly? How is that different from face to face? Is it like looking at someone through a dirty window? Is this about the act of not-seeing or is it more about the feeling you get when you want to see but you can’t? (And isn’t that longing, that mystery, sometimes better than it’s actualization?) What is this thing Paul is saying we will see face to face?
I don’t know much, but I can tell you I feel this, deep in my bones. It is something other, born of mystery, and it fills me with longing for the impossible.
What if it’s more about the noticing than the seeing or not-seeing?
When Jesus would say things like, “you have eyes but can’t see" to his disciples, I tend to get all righteous about myself. I won’t be like them, I say resolutely. After all, I don’t want to be like them. I want to see. Yet while I try, I am constantly reminded that there are, indeed, so many things I still cannot see.
But what if seeing isn’t the point, exactly?
What if the point is to get them, and us, to work on wondering and noticing, looking and searching?
What if the worst place for us to be is the stagnant place, the place of sameness, our own echo chambers, round and round we go?
The most dangerous thing you can do as a driver, after all, is to assume you have no blind spots.
(Photo by Gareth Harrison on Unsplash)
I’m thinking about this a lot lately ‘cause I think there’s a lot going on in our world that is hidden— and if we don’t start doing some seeing work, things could get ugly pretty fast for the least of these— you know, the ones Jesus cared most about, the ones Jesus was?
Look for what is hidden. Wonder. Notice. Search.
Notice when that kid just disappears from your church’s youth group, but don’t stop there. Find out why. Search for them, find them, and talk. Hear their story.
Pay attention to the cashier at the grocery store near your house; start a conversation. “Nice hat,” or something like that. If you’re worried about small talk, get curious. People like to talk about themselves. Notice how they’re the same as you, but also find out how they differ.
Next time you go on a walk, figure out where all the critters are. Sit a while if you can, quiet-like, and wait for them to come out. Notice how your life and theirs intersects, and how it doesn’t. Wonder about what’s good for them.
Pay attention to your community groups and your neighborhood. What’s the same there? Is anything different? Drive through your city, eyes wide open. Who lives like you? Who doesn’t? Start trying to find out why, rejecting any standard reasons that pop into your head.
What are you reading or listening to? Who’s it talking about? What’s it saying and to whom? Who’s not mentioned? Who’s left out? Why? Follow the thread…
With politics, news, current events, medical advice… watcha readin’? Watcha watchin’? Who’s it about? What’s it not saying? Who’s the intended audience? Who benefits from the story? Who doesn’t?
Next time you hear an argument about why this or that thing should or shouldn’t happen, ask who it affects? Listen to the opposition, even if you don’t agree.
Turn this into a habit. Let Jesus’ words always echo in your ear, “you have eyes but cannot see,” a warning, a challenge.
Down the rabbit hole: what a TikTok video challenged me to notice, happening right here, in my own city
(Photo by Solen Feyissa on Unsplash)
A few months ago, as I was scrolling TikTok, I came across this video from “Now This” of a Cherokee attorney calling out an attack by Big Oil (and a white adoptive family) on a Native American adoption law known as ICWA.
At first, I was confused by the video, but ultimately I understood the attorney in it to be presenting the following premises— when a white family adopts Native American children, they are taking away a sovereign right of Native American tribes to decide what happens to their own children (granted by ICWA); the issue presented in the video had to do with this white adoptive family who was attacking ICWA and saying that instead it (the white adoptive family) had the final say over what was best for these children; this white adoptive family was taking legal action to defend itself and was being represented pro bono by one of the same law firms that defends Big Oil; in the end this issue had a lot to do with Big Oil wanting to remove any barriers to its ability to build its pipeline.
I had an immediate visceral reaction to this video— I felt sad for the children in question, and I felt curious about the attorney’s argument. This was where I knew I was being challenged with, “You have eyes but cannot see.”
The attorney in the video mentioned the name of the family in question, the Brackeens, and that the Brackeen mother had said in her blog she and her husband felt it was “God’s will” for her and her spouse to adopt Native American children. Whenever theology is used to support what a white person wants in this way, I become even more invested. So I commenced digging. Here’s what I learned:
The Brackeens are from Fort Worth and are “Evangelical Christians” https://www.texastribune.org/2022/11/10/indian-child-adoption-scotus/
Texas attorney general Ken Paxton is also representing the Brackeens, and in this video, he uses a few arguments (that make me feel physically ill) which, in my opinion, are specifically geared towards white Evangelical Christians: the Brackeens and the Texas AG’s office and other people like them have the children’s best interest at heart; the Brackeens are doing good work taking in foster children who no one cares about (this is not true— a great aunt also wanted to adopt the Brackeens youngest adopted child, and ICWA supported this because it would have kept her in the family); this is an issue that should only be between a child’s biological parents and adoptive parents and should have nothing to do with Native American tribal sovereignty; the Brackeens and other white people like them ultimately know what is best for children over and above what any tribal/Native American groups would say.
Though the Brackeens ultimately were allowed to adopt their first child, there was again debate over whether or not they should be allowed to adopt this child’s younger sister, and they decided to lodge a fight against ICWA, which basically says that when it comes to Native American children, all efforts should be made to keep them within Native American tribes over being adopted out to white people. This fight against ICWA is what Texas AG Ken Paxton is ultimately fighting, and it has made it all the way to the Supreme Court. The Brackeens have used the argument that they are being discriminated against because of their race (ugh). https://www.scotusblog.com/case-files/cases/brackeen-v-haaland/ https://www.npr.org/2022/11/08/1134668931/supreme-court-icwa
ICWA is a very important law (https://www.nicwa.org/about-icwa/) for Native American children and tribes; it has been labeled a “gold standard” of child welfare policies because it does everything it can to keep Native American children within Native American care. It protects Native American sovereignty and culture. As the attorney in the first TikTok video reminds her audience— if you remove all of a people’s children, you are ultimately erasing them.
There are a lot of racist assumptions that go into an argument like the one the Brackeens are making, chief among them a racial script about Native Americans that they are a degraded lot who cannot care for their children. There is also so much white supremacy infusing everything the Brackeens stand for (“we white families know what is best…and should have more authority than the Native American tribes themselves”), and, most sickinengly, they are using God-language to support their cause.
As it stands now, the Supreme Court has discussed the case and has yet to make a ruling. While it looks like ICWA is not in danger of being overturned, it is important for me as a voter and a Christian and a white middle-class woman to understand what is happening in the legal system, and in the name of “God” and “Christianity” to the marginalized people whose land I live on.
Let’s talk…
(Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash)
And now, friends, I’m interested in your stories. Where does the Jesus-challenge to see, notice, question, explore, learn, study, open up lead you?
What have you not-seen and then noticed? How did it crack open your world?
***It’s worth noting that any discussion of Jesus “healing” serves as a stark reminder that the writers of the New Testament were operating in an ableist culture which said that if you had a physical limitation or disability of any kind, it was because you or your parents had “sinned.” So if you were disabled, society cut you off and alienated you. When Jesus “healed” someone of a disability, it restored the person’s place in society. Reading healing stories about Jesus in today’s context, I like to look at my own life/societal/church context and see if there are barriers I or my community are erecting that exclude folks with disabilities from being full participants in the life of the community so we can learn how to tear them down.