Soft eyes in the house of God

On Sunday at Hilton Church, Duncan was preaching on the New Testament Lectionary passage, Luke 19:1-10 on the story of Zacchaeus, the wee tax collector who scrambled up a tree to see Jesus.

Duncan emphasis was on the fact that Jesus invites himself to Zac’s house before there is any talk of repentance or restitution. Repentance flows from knowing yourself embraced in this way by God’s deep grace. Duncan encouraged us to invite Jesus into our homes and our hearts and our circumstances and to be as hospitable as Jesus is to the Zacchaeuses in our street and city.

He concluded by encouraging us to see those we meet through (to use a phrase of Scot Peck’s) ‘soft eyes’ – with a gentle and respectful look, a look without harshness and judgement.

Early on Monday morning, I was sitting trying (rather unsuccessfully) to focus on God and thinking about Duncan’s sermon when I remembered that Monday is one of the days when there’s a lunchtime Eucharist at Inverness Cathedral just along from my office – I sometimes go. And it was as though God were saying to me ‘Today, you will come to my house’

And so, 12.30am found me scuttling into the side chapel in the Cathedral. There was one other worshipper, the priest, and me. I love ‘the peace’, near the beginning of the liturgy, when the three of us greeted one another as fellow-members of God’s family. I love in taking part in the readings and responses the sense of fellowship and participation and solidarity with the faithful of two millennia. 

And then we go forward to the rail, and in the name of Jesus the priest ever so gently offers each of us wafer and wine.  It’s not that I felt consistent joy throughout the 30 minutes, but there were brief moments when I sensed a connectedness with God and these cast light over the rest of the day, especially that moment when I knew, it seemed without a shadow of doubt, that I am loved by God.

And then later on Monday, my friend Norman sent me a link to an article in the Washington Post about a remarkable American Lutheran pastor, Nadia Bolz-Weber who has just published a book called Pastrix: the cranky, beautiful life of a sinner and saint.  Having left her fundamentalist childhood far behind her Bolz-Weber ‘didn't consider herself to be religious leader material — until the day she ended up leading a friend's funeral in a smoky downtown comedy club. Surrounded by fellow alcoholics, depressives, and cynics, she realized: These were her people. Maybe she was meant to be their pastor.’

 “I think God is wanting to be known,’ says this rather wonderful woman. ‘And my experience of God wanting to be known is much more in the person who is annoying me at the moment rather than in the sunset.’

Nadia Bolz-Weber is a woman with soft eyes. And what struck me especially was the name of the mission church she leads in Denver – it’s called House for all Sinners and Saints. Now that sounds like the church for me - a place where both Zacchaeus and Jesus would feel at home.

[I came across this helpful comment on Scott Peck’s ‘soft eyes’ from Clare Dalpra:

Peck offers the analogy of looking at each other through soft eyes as shorthand for regarding people through lenses of respect. When we begin to do this something special happens as the masks drop and we see the suffering and courage and brokenness and deeper dignity beneath we truly start to respect each other as human beings. To look at each other through our masks of composure is to do so with hard eyes through barriers of distrust, fear, resentment and prejudice which will never build a safe environment for either party to be more open.]