When Charles Darwin was confidently working out the details of his theory of evolution, he recorded in a moment of wonder, that of all the organic phenomena in the natural world, the development of eyesight in mammals and humans was the one thing that troubled him most. He was at a loss to adequately explain the origins of the sense of sight from a scientific point of view. The idea of an organism being able to perceive the world visually did not fit neatly into any schema of biological development. It seemed to him, almost miraculous and reading Darwin’s own writings on the subject, one realises that this was one dilemma that became a real challenge to his own atheism. Even now, some scientists find the phenomena of eyesight the most incredible achievement of our biological development.
But long before Darwin, thinkers and philosophers have been questioning, not just the wonder of eyesight, but the deeper significance of the act of seeing. The Greek philosopher Anaxagoras declared that we were “born for seeing". And just over 2000 years later, that great priest, theologian and scientist, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said that all life is comprehended within seeing and that the whole evolution of the cosmos aims above all at "the elaboration of ever more perfect eyes". It is eyesight - the act of seeing - that is one of the biological faculties that makes us fundamentally human, but we have come to understand that seeing is much more than a mere biological function of a sentient body. It seems that in order to truly know ourselves, our existence and our deepest yearnings, we humans are always craving some form of understanding through seeing. In our world we have so much but we see so little. Certainly, we spend at lot of time looking at a great many things, but do we really see? In other words, we often have the experience but do we really get the meaning?
The Emmaus story is very much a story about not seeing and seeing. We are told that while two of the disciples are walking and discussing recent events, Jesus was suddenly walking and talking with them, but they didn't see that it was Jesus. Luke tells us: "There eyes were kept from recognising him". And later, when they sat to eat with him, "Their eyes were opened" and then they recognised him, but suddenly he vanishes from their sight! Luke is the only evangelist who gives us this account and we may wonder why. Taken literally, this is all strange and for some it is difficult to swallow. Why did it take the disciples so long to recognise Jesus?
It seems that Luke is trying to say something important about resurrection; how the disciples are to understand Jesus Christ's presence in the world, and the joy that comes with that understanding. If they are to see Christ, they are to see him differently. It is not a bodily Christ they must seek or expect to find anymore. Christ must now be discovered dispersed into the world. This gospel passage should lead us to some profound insights about seeing and understanding. We too are like those first disciples. We seek to discover Christ - we seek the presence of the divine, but much of the time we do make that connection. But we can empathise with the disciples on the Emmaus Road, for the weight of human grief and personal tragedy can often blind us to what is going on around us. Darkness and despair becomes a barrier to seeing. All they had at that point were shattered hopes and dreams.
We have daily opportunities of having some access to the sacred around us and within us. Our acts of worship, our rituals, our calendar of festivals and celebrations seek to give access to the holy, but we have to see through the symbols and the ritual actions to discover and touch that presence. If we are distracted or preoccupied; if we are not inwardly prepared, we do not make the connections and then even the most powerful of rituals can be empty of meaning. During our everyday lives, we spend a lot of time looking in our, working activity, commuting, socialising, and so on. But spiritually, is there any real seeing going on or is that something just reserved for Sundays?
We are saturated with visual phenomena all the time and our brains struggle to make sense of it all, but we must not delude ourselves into thinking that looking and seeing are a kind of one-way process. Looking can be a passive activity but real seeing is not. Spiritual seeing is certainly not a passive or neutral activity and the meaning of what is seen depends on what we bring to that experience. It requires something from deep within us to prepare us for an encounter. Spiritual teachers find this difficult to express, but what it requires is an inner attitude. There needs to be a contemplative attitude, an attitude of acceptance that says 'yes' to life, an awareness that the whole world and all that is in it is grounded in the divine.
It is nothing less than an attitude of love. I have no doubt that this is what Anaxagoras and other philosophers were talking about. It is something akin to Plato's notion of viseo beatifica - the "seeing tha confers bliss". This kind of seeing opens our hearts and minds to deeper realities in the world. In this sense, seeing and loving are one and the same thing. Some people have referred to this way of seeing as a kind of "expectant alertness" or a "loving attentiveness".
This is the way that many artists and poets see the world and it all amounts to a kind of ‘practical mysticism’. That is how they expand their vision of the world. That is how they are tuned into the world. Not everyone is called to be an artist, but I do believe our spiritual journey is enriched with greater discoveries if we try to see the world through their eyes. This kind of seeing may help us to recognise Christ more clearly on our journey of faith. We know that the eyes of the disciples were finally opened and they saw Jesus in the breaking and the sharing of the bread. Only then did the scales fall from their eyes.
Some would affirm that in describing this action, Luke was confirming the importance of the last supper and emphasising the future primacy of the Eucharist. But the emphasis here is surely on acts of sharing. Jesus Christ can be seen in any mutual act of sharing with another. As he said himself: Wherever there is real fellowship or acts of caring, healing, forgiving or peace-making Christ can be seen. Indeed wherever there is joy and laughter and where people are enlarged rather than diminished by those things, Christ can be seen.
As the two disciples on the road eventually discovered, Christ can be discerned in their suffering even when everything seems hopeless and empty. Christ can be seen in the briefest of encounters and then may vanish from our sight, like a brief but warm encounter with an old friend or offering help to someone in the street who finds them self in a situation where they cannot help themselves. This story reminds us that despite tragedy, disappointment and ugliness that often accompany sacredness and beauty, if we are true seekers and keep our eyes open in a spirit of loving attentiveness, then Christ may be discovered in all things.
This is the nature of the Emmaus experience and it is happening all the time if only we have the eyes to see it.