Look at my eyes! (Community Part 2)

I can always tell when I am going to have to put on my "I really mean it" eyes with my children based on the sounds I hear before they come running. Happy giggles produce my own laughter, while crying and shouting mean that I will put on the mask of guiding parental solemnness. After I have managed to figure-out the gist of what has happened, I work into our discussion. It is simple and usually goes something like this:
"Is it a good choice to throw a shoe at your sister?"
"No." He is looking at his toes, scowling.
"What kind of choice is it?"
"A bad one."
"Judah, look at my eyes. Don't do that again. You could have really hurt her - do you understand?" He is still looking at his shoes. Is he paying attention? Does he really see what I am trying to say? I place his little bum-chin between my thumb and pointer finger and raise it so that his eyes are looking into mine.
"Yes mom." 
And then we hug.


It is a rare moment when I don't have music in my head, and I have caught myself singing quietly or humming to myself while someone is talking to me. I didn't realize this was a problem until my friend Krista said "Ugh! Are you even listening to me? Can you stop?". Of course I heard what she was saying. I can do two things at once you know! But I realized that I wasn't really listening to her. To stand in front of someone and recognize their sounds as words is different than listening to them, than really seeing them. Clearly Krista wanted to shake me (her face was red and she was doing the huffy talk that she does sometimes when she's agitated). I was with her, but she felt like I wasn't seeing her. It's not enough to just walk beside someone - we want to be seen by them.  


In order to really "see" someone else, we have to get outside of our own story and into theirs. Emmanuel Levinas the philosopher (see link in the side-bar if you're so inclined to read-up) explained it this way. To look in the face of "the Other" (i.e. Krista, Judah, you) and to regard them as a composite, identifying everything that has made them who they are, unique and completely unlike anything else (in their "alterity"), is to "see" them. It acknowledges that we all have a story, a history of instances and events that have made us who we are. To really see someone, we look past ourselves and our own agendas, and even past what someone is saying (the words they are using, how they are putting them together) and attempt to hear what they are trying to say.


In my last post I talked a lot about how we disappoint one another because of our brokenness, yet there is still that pesky Biblical call, or humanist ideal, to love one another. When we attempt to see one another it makes it a lot easier to get past the hurt. Sometimes when I am talking to adults, I want to grab their chins and say "look at my eyes"! Are you seeing me? Do you really hear what I am trying to say? I'm sure this a commentary on my desire to control my environment (!), but I think this is reflective of a much bigger longing. Levinas was convinced that seeing was the instigator of compassion. What do we see when we look into the face of the other? It is a vulnerable exchange. Recognizing the nakedness and the helplessness in the face of the other awakens in us compassion for the other’s situation. 


I think this was what Jesus was going for, and what he modeled. If you read through the Gospels of the New Testament, his life was all about seeing people. He was moved to compassion, and in doing so, gave people dignity. Rebellious. When you read a great book with characters that come alive, or watch a compelling performance in a film, it is because the author or actor has taken the time to consider the narrative from every perspective. The characters have depth. Jesus recognized the stories of the people around him and it changed his world. It has changed our world too, thousands of years later. What would happen if we all tried to "see"?