I'm blessed to look out on this every morning. This morning, I really took advantage of it. I sat outside knitting for the better part of an hour, enjoying the quiet sounds of a thicket nearby and Kevin Heider sweetly serenading me with his song about the waiting. It's so pleasing to the senses right now: the sounds are serene and soothing, the air smells fresh and sweet, the temperature is a calm 70 degrees in the shade, there's not a cloud in the sky, and I can see the fish swimming at the bottom of the pond.
Quiet mornings like this are so beautiful that it hurts (and I better enjoy them while they last, but that's for another post). My mind began to wander and I thought to myself: "How could I possibly enjoy this if I lost one of my senses?" Recently I read this fascinating blog post by a friend of mine, and I must agree wholeheartedly with his comments about watching television. I detest it. His thoughts are a great springboard for mine this morning.
As I sit here still contemplating which I'd choose, I can't seem to make up my mind: blind or deaf? As a musician and a photographer, it's almost impossible for me to decide. This summer at Catholicfest, Bryce Evans gave a presentation on Beauty. He did a phenomenal job. Evans basically noted that each of us has an intense longing for the Divine, and we experience a glimmer of this in those things that are truly beautiful, so beautiful, in fact, that they actually intensify this longing. Sometimes things are so beautiful that it "hurts." Would I be able to live without experiencing beauty using all of my senses? A foolish question, methinks, as other people already do it. So, yes. Would I want to? No. There are so many good things. So much beauty. So much.
Which would I prefer? I think I'd prefer to be deaf. I'd rather be able to see the Eucharist than hear the prayers or music of the Mass, although both would be painfully missed.
I've come to really love silence in the past three years. I find this absolutely hilarious because I've always been a huge fan of punk rock, loud music, and noise in general. But now I realize how much noise there is in the world, and how impossible it is to be absolutely silent.
During the summer of 2011, after I finished CYE summer staff and before I began the Missionary Internship, I was able to take a five-day silent retreat at Pacem in Terris. To this date, it was the most divinely nourishing retreat I've ever experienced (and I've experienced a plethora, I promise). No schedules, no phones, no electricity. Simplicity. Nature. Silence. I loved every minute of it. I'd love to do a 30-day silent Ignatian retreat; it'd kick my ass. I love silence. I love stillness. I love contemplation.
I think the reasons I'd rather be deaf are selfish. I want to see the face of my future husband and the way he looks at me when I walk into Mass on our wedding day. I want to see the peaceful look on the face of my future child as she sleeps the way babies do. While body language and vocal intonation speak in different ways, I think I'm better at reading what's unsaid by looking someone in the eye. Have you noticed how disconcerting it is to look someone in the eye these days? No one wants to make eye contact with anyone anymore. Try looking someone in the eye for more than 10 seconds. If you don't find it unsettling, I'm sure they will. I'm also pretty sure that if I were deaf, I'd have to learn to listen in different ways. See what I did there? Funny because it's punny.
Back to the matter. I'd prefer to be deaf, yes, but which option would make me holier? Which would be more of a sacrifice? Being blind, for sure. Regardless of my efforts to be detached and give up control, my choleric side likes to take control by force, and this is where it wields it's ugly head. I'm a very independent character (props to you if you got the movie reference). If I were blind, I'd have to depend more on others than I do now; it'd be sanctifying in a very excruciating way. I'd also have to learn, much like this guy, how to deal with all the noise, noise, noise, noise, which would now be elevated somehow because my senses would overcompensate for the loss of one somehow, yes? (And, for the record, I think this guy can't hold a candle to that guy.) I'd also have to work harder at listening if I were blind because I'd no longer be able to read body language and facial expressions.
I guess it comes down to one question: would I rather hear the Gospel or see the Gospel? There was a point in my life where I was both spiritually blind, deaf, dumb, and numb to the love, mercy, and person of Jesus Christ. I never want to go back. And, now, much like St. Thérèse,
I want all Christ can throw at me through every sense that I have. I have gifts, talents, and preferences, and I'm sure that's where He'll likely aim most of the time, but some things will come from left field, and those are the things which will make me holy. I'd rather be deaf, because then I'd actually be able to listen to the voice of Christ in my heart.
You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride. You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes. -Song of Songs 4:9
He captivates me; I captivate Him. I'll hear of nothing else.
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