Cats have mysterious stares. Sometimes, Baxter comes up close and just looks me in the eye with a very disconcerting gaze. If I blink or turn away, it doesn’t distract him. He remains fixed with his focus. I wonder what he is looking for but the answer isn’t obvious. He doesn’t give any clues about his disposition or his intentions. He just stares until he has had enough. Then he jumps off my lap and goes about his routine cat business.
Staring at another person is usually regarded as impolite. It intrudes upon one’s personal space and intimidates another. It is usually regarded as threatening to one’s privacy and respect. As children, we are taught not to stare for these very reasons. Of course, kids can make a game of staring. Who will flinch first? But generally, we don’t tolerate another’s stare for very long. We usually break it with a question. Can I help you? Do I know you? What’s your problem? Stares are not the stuff of polite society.
How do we feel about God’s look at us? I remember the big eye in the triangle that adorned the sanctuary ceiling of my boyhood church. I never liked that look. It was too much like a stare. It gave the sense that it knew everything about me, and it was waiting to catch me out of line. Its expressionless viewpoint had me looking for the worst in me and wondering how I could keep it a secret. Where could I hide from the all-knowing judgment of God? Maybe that’s why I seldom looked at the picture and took the back pew in the corner whenever I was praying alone in the church. Stares are intimidating, and coming from the Almighty, they are downright scary.
The God of Jesus looks at us differently. Sure, He sees our sin and failings, our littleness and frailty, but like a loving parent, these traits become terms of endearment to Him. His forgiveness trumps our sin and failings, and the strength of His love protects us in our weakness. He doesn’t look for the worst, but the best in us.
After all, we are His children, and so we are made in His image and likeness. God sees His love in us and smiles at the unique twist we each have given that love. He wants to encourage us to live by that love, to use it in our dealings with each other, and to teach it to our children. That’s the divine gaze, the look of the Good Shepherd, happy to see His sheep thriving under His watchful care.
So, Baxter, stare all you want. I can’t be scared by you. A cooler cat watches over both of us, and His look is a blessing for all on whom it falls.
-Monsignor Statnick
