Windows to the Soul

Windows to the Soul

I was struck by their eyes.

Glancing around the table for a moment, I saw several pairs of gentle, thoughtful eyes. Creases radiated from the corners, shooting outward toward countenances which had faced much sorrow, misery, and difficulty. Yet, here, in this moment, these eyes were content, hopeful, seeking a fulfillment which had seemed elusive in the past.

I commented with a laugh that one of them looked incredibly intense as he carefully outlined a design on a poster, adding flourishes and details, colorful letters unfolding in a practiced artistic script. Another had kind eyes as he shared a gratitude for life which was a hard-fought accomplishment, a thankfulness borne of recognizing he could easily be dead if circumstances had transpired differently. Yet another had brilliantly dark and quiet eyes, settled into a fiery calm and carrying tremendous depth and treasured secrets.

One after the other, I am peering into pairs of eyes which have seen things I hope to never witness and have sought a hope I, too, fervently desire. Soaking up the moments, the snatches of conversation between sips of coffee and theological ponderings between deft strokes of a marker on posterboard, I found myself incredibly grateful for this glimpse of humanity. I think people wouldn’t believe what we talk about or what these men are like, I thought to myself as I heard them share their stories and answer questions.

The human person is a many layered being. I am not proposing that at this prison retreat there were only men who have completely repented of their wrongdoing or who will live lives on the straight and narrow forevermore. However, where can we look and see such a group of people? Instead, I am continually amazed at how they are taking their situations, brought on by their own choices as well as circumstances outside of their control, and seeking to grow. For some, this means striving for sobriety and personal betterment during their remaining prison sentence before concluding their time or being released on parole. For others, this means wrestling with a life sentence and how they can be involved in their families while incarcerated or seek personal fulfillment within the prison walls.

From the outside, flipping through tv news reports or online articles, it can be easy to simplify humanity. We hear about horrifying and shocking crimes, quickly bemoan the state of society, and want people locked away forever. Yet sitting at a table with them drinking cups of coffee, handing them slices of toast which are only offered on this retreat, watching their eyes fill up with tears as they speak of how they are seeking to be good fathers despite facing a life sentence in prison, and hearing them push themselves to share a story with the group regardless of their nervousness all makes it much harder to categorize them all as “bad” and slam the door shut on them.

Humans are complex and, thankfully, have the capacity for growth and change.

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Maybe I’ll Climb Into My Classroom Through the Ceiling From Another Teacher’s Room

Maybe I’ll Climb Into My Classroom Through the Ceiling From Another Teacher’s Room

GK Chesterton wrote Manalive, a novel that revealed his desire to gaze at the world through a life-giving haze of wonder and awe. I was reminded of this recently at a talk and it made me reflect on the stories that he speaks of taking place in the fictional life of Innocent Smith.

(If you haven’t read the book and want to, you should probably stop here because I need to ruin a few points in order to reveal what is so attractive about his life. This is your warning. Stop here! Proceed no further. Or, if you don’t care, carry on.)

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Break Our Hearts of Stone

Break Our Hearts of Stone

It seems keeping the heart one of flesh, instead of being one of stone, is the continual work of a lifetime. Softening, rather than hardening, requires a strength and intentionality that doesn’t come naturally to me. In the wake of my defensiveness and desire for self-preservation, I repeatedly need to engage in the work of letting my heart be real. The simple act of believing in the goodness of others (and living in that truth) is one that requires me to be soft-hearted over and over again.

As I’ve gone into the prison, I have grown in seeing the goodness in people who have made many mistakes. Many of the men I interact with are easy to find goodness in because they are seeking the Lord, too. Their zeal for the Lord or their desire to love Him or find Him invites me to see how God is moving in their hearts. Others are a little more difficult since they make me feel uncomfortable or continually lie to me. But as a whole, I am able to look at men who have raped, murdered, and committed all sorts of crimes and proclaim their inherent goodness.

For whatever reason, we often look up what crimes the men are in for and how long of a sentence they received. At times, it helps to understand their position: are they in for life or a few years or simply back after breaking parole? We decided to look up one man I’ve talked with several times and see his crime. It was surprising because the kindness and gentleness I’ve experienced from him ran contrary to the crime he was sentenced to serve. Yet, despite the surprise, it didn’t really change how I felt toward him. The goodness and kindness I’ve experienced are real and he is far more than the crimes of his past.

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Their Eyes

I live for the moments when their eyes look like they did yesterday.  When I’m opening my heart because for a few moments it feels safe with a class, and their eyes are fastened on me.  I want to read the stories that are written there.  I want to profess my love for them even though it is all heightened and strengthened by the moment.  A few seem on the verge of tears, but all appear to grasp my sincerity and my desire to impart this knowledge to them.

I’m discerning on my feet if I should tell them about that powerful prayer experience I had a couple weeks ago.  And I do.  I talk about spiritual direction and share what I learned from it just the day before.

Maybe some are annoyed with my long preaching session, wondering if it is going to be required knowledge for the test.  But I cannot tell that those thoughts are running through their minds.  I can only see their eyes.  They are pools of experiences–hurt and joy.  And I desire to sit down with them and hear all the stories.  I don’t always feel that keen desire, sometimes I forget that their experiences are just as real as my own.

I’m trying to speak truth into situations that I do not know or understand, but I know they are in them.  Because I’m in similar situations.  It is part of the human condition.

The simple truth I desired to impart was this: Jesus knows.  He knows what it feels like to be in their shoes and to experience the pain they feel.  I spoke about how all of Jesus’ friends abandoned Him at the moment He most needed them.  He knows what it is like to feel betrayed and left alone.  He suffered for the sins and sufferings of the entire world, throughout all of history.  And He did this so that when we come to something that seems too much, He can tell us that He already passed through this, too.

And I asked them to find Jesus in the midst of it all.  How is Jesus loving you in this situation?  He is present in death, in their parents’ divorce, and in the betrayal of a friend.  He is loving us through every situation.

A priest pointed this out to me the other day–I told him I was seeking to see each experience as God trying to convert my heart and he included that each experience was God loving me.  How quick I am to shift the focus just enough that it distorts the image.  It is different to experience all as a means for my own conversion and quite another to see it as an avenue of His love.

“I don’t understand,” one student says.  “How can you find Jesus loving you in your parents’ divorce?”

And I don’t have a clear answer.  I can’t give them a Scripture passage or a Catechism reference to answer it nicely.  Instead, I must tell them that I don’t know how Jesus is seeking to love them in their difficulties, but I know that He is doing it.  That we need to open our hearts, to not pull back when we are wounded and to open them to the Healer.  I am speaking to myself as much as I am speaking to them.

Reminding them that Jesus is present in all, reinforces that belief in me.  All I’ve experienced He has already experienced and has thus sanctified the experience.  And each experience is a new way to receive His love.

All can be seen through the eyes of Love.

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