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I was so grateful that I glanced out the kitchen window as our next guest was emerging from her car. My first impression was of a slim young woman with lovely hair. And then she turned around.
I gasped in horror as I beheld the worst facial disfigurement I’d ever seen. In moments she would enter our home and sit down at the dinner table with us. I wanted my face to reflect welcome, not revulsion or pity. I wanted to greet the person, not stop at the disfigurement. And I had only moments to pray for the grace.
When I met this guest at the door, I zeroed in on her eyes, the only part of her face unaffected by the disfigurement. In fact, they were lovely limpid blue eyes and I desperately kept my own eyes fixed on hers.
By the end of the meal I had encountered the beauty of this woman’s heart and could then look at all of her. By the end of her week’s visit, I no longer thought about her facial scars, but rejoiced in a new and inspiring friend.
Why do I tell you this story? I remembered it as I was fiercely embroiled in an interior struggle with X. I became fixated on his shortcomings, his annoying habits, his glaring faults that impacted so many people. Too much of my energy was going into observing and reacting to him.
My thoughts were more sinful than his infractions, as I increasingly moved from irritation to judgment. Whatever X was or was not doing, the problem was essentially mine. And yet I couldn’t seem to break the hold this had on me.
That’s when I remembered our long-ago guest. I was focusing on what was “wrong” with X, instead of the beauty of the whole person. So I kept my eyes resolutely on what was true and good in him.
Whenever my attention started to drift to his “scars”, I returned to the beauty I could acknowledge. And I repented mightily of judging him. Soon my own eyes were cleared and I could love this person.
What about you? Is there anyone you dislike, judge, avoid? Are you experiencing difficulties with a family member or a parishioner? Do you project your own fear and frustration on to someone else? Or hold a person to past patterns without acknowledging that they’ve changed? Can you dare to hope that the relationship can be transformed?
And perhaps a more searing question: do you focus on your own blemishes, sins, disfigurements so that you can’t truly believe you are loved by the Father—completely and utterly, as you are right now?
Can you take your eyes off what is dark in your heart and keep them fixed on the Face of Christ with his loving, compassionate eyes?
One of our members, Archbishop Joseph Raya, used to say, “You become what you contemplate”. So what will that be: disfigurement and darkness or limpid light and beauty?
