Last night
I was an audience member at a high school vocal music concert. It was an easy and joyful occasion for me to be
drawn into their music, with fond memories of music-making welling up from high
school days.
I
remember directors reminding us every so often to ‘Keep your eyes on me!’. I
knew this was important for group dynamics and cut-offs. But it wasn’t until last night that a greater
depth in this admonition was revealed.
I found myself delighted most by the students
whose eyes were focused on their director; these students were imbued with confidence.
These students were magnetic, and I felt permitted to watch them, since
they weren't cognizant of me, but cared only for their director’s gaze. And I found my eyes darting anxiously away
from students who (knowingly or unknowingly) were looking anywhere else but at
their director.
One may
posit that each student’s gaze is just ‘one among many’ and that the director’s
gaze matters less since it is dispersed among a vast crowd. But the director’s gaze was needed by each
student. And each student’s gaze was needed
by the director. Both student and
director delight in this connection. This
gaze is needed; I could tell when it was there and I could tell when it was
missing.
There is
a sense of urgency, of grasping, and of dying to create individuality that manifests
in a student whose gaze is elsewhere. It
was apparent last night, and it is apparent in my life when I try to define
myself by everything else other than being supremely loved by Christ.
Refusing
the gaze of the director carries with it a bit of defiance and forgetfulness of
my part in a larger group. “I know my
part” and it’s tempting to think that’s all that matters, that I must sing loud
so as not to be forgotten. Paradoxically,
through submitting to the director and becoming a part of the group, my part does
not ‘get lost’. Rather, it’s channeled into
something more beautiful. The song, and
my part in it, is surely most beautiful when I remain in the gaze of the
director.
- - - -
The
following from Pope Benedict XVI expands on the particular beauty found in this
gaze, this steady rock of friendship with Christ.
Are
we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If
we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him,
are we not afraid that He might take something away from us? Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something
significant, something unique, something that makes life so beautiful? Do we not then risk ending up diminished and
deprived of our freedom? . . . No! If we
let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what
makes life free, beautiful and great. No!
Only in this friendship are the doors of
life opened wide. Only in this friendship is the great potential of human
existence truly revealed. Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and
liberation. And so, today, with great
strength and great conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of
life, I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you
everything. When we give ourselves to
him, we receive a hundredfold in return. Yes, open, open wide the doors to Christ – and
you will find true life.
