“How an old man got new eyes”

An Easter story for young and for old from Madonna House:

How an Old Man Got New Eyes: An Easter Story

by Jude Fischer.

Once there was an old man. He was very unhappy and didn’t enjoy life very much. As things were never right, he grumbled and complained.

He grumbled that he had to get up in the morning. Then when nightfall came, it came too soon. He complained when he had to work, and found it boring when he didn’t.

He murmured that people didn’t pay enough attention to him, and when they did, it irritated him. He hated it when it rained, and then, when the sun came out, he found it too hot. In winter he longed for summer and in summer for fall. All in all, life was rather miserable.

One day he stopped at a fruit stand. He found some of the fruit was too ripe, and the rest not ripe enough. And so he decided to leave.

As he was leaving, the fruit seller said to him, “I wish you new eyes, sir, child eyes.”

“New eyes,” thought the old man as he walked away. “Why, my eyesight is perfect. My vision is sharper than that of many folks half my age. I see things every bit as clearly as I did when I was a child.”

A week or so later he stopped at the fruit stand again. The fruit seller had the fruit he didn’t want, and the fruit he wanted wasn’t there. As he was leaving the fruit seller said, “I wish you kingdom eyes, sir.”

“Kingdom eyes?” This puzzled the old man a bit. But no matter. He was a busy man, lots of things to do, and so he let it pass.

Some time later the old man stopped at the fruit stand again. It was the same old story. Everything he didn’t want, nothing he did want, everything too ripe or not ripe enough.

As he left, the fruit seller said, “I wish you treasure-hunting eyes, sir.”

“Treasure-hunting eyes?” Why he had been on a treasure hunt once. And of all in the group, it had been he who had finally spotted the treasure. Why, if anyone had treasure-hunting eyes, he had.

But where had it gotten him? There had been endless squabbling over the treasure, and in the end he had never received his share. Treasure-hunting eyes indeed!

But in spite of himself the old man began to wonder about what the fruit seller had said to him. What did he mean, new eyes, child eyes, kingdom eyes, treasure hunting eyes? The next time he stopped at the stand, he asked the fruit seller to explain.

“Well, you see,” the fruit seller began, “one day there was a stranger in town. Quite a crowd gathered to hear him speak. I joined them. He spoke of many things, but a few things he said really stuck in my mind.

“He said the kingdom of heaven is within you. He said it is like a treasure hidden in a field. And he said that unless you become like a little child you cannot enter it.

“I didn’t understand what he meant, but I wondered on it, and carried his words in my heart.

“The next day the stranger was there again. And there was a blind man, a man blind from birth, I believe. He went up to the stranger and said to him, ‘Sir, if you want to, you can make me see.’ And the stranger answered, ‘Of course I want to,’ and would you believe it, the blind man’s eyes were opened and he could see. He really could.

“How he delighted in all he saw. And it seemed to me then that I did not see rightly. For though I saw, I was not happy with what I saw the way this blind man was.

“And so, without hardly thinking about it, I blurted out to the stranger, ‘Please sir, give me new eyes.’ ‘I will,’ he answered, ‘I give you child eyes, kingdom eyes, treasure-hunting eyes.’ I thanked him and left.

“That was the last time I ever saw the stranger. But from that time on I saw things differently. Where before I saw only darkness, now I saw stars and fireflies. Where before I found only pain, now I discovered a door to joy.

“Where before I had seen nothing worthwhile, now I found much to marvel at. Where before I lived in a desert of doubt and despair, now a fountain of faith and hope sprang up. And where before people annoyed or irritated or bored me, now I saw something in them that reminded me of the stranger. And I rejoiced.”

The old man went away wondering at what the fruit seller had told him. He shrugged it off at first, but no matter how he tried to ignore it, the story kept coming back to mind.

And the more he thought about it, the more he began to long for new eyes for himself. He began to think about the stranger and to hope he would return. And when he did, he would ask for new eyes, too.

The thought excited him. But he began to worry that when he saw the stranger he would be too nervous to ask for anything. So he decided he would practice what to say: “Give me new eyes, sir, child eyes, kingdom eyes, treasure-hunting eyes.”

Yes, that is what he would say. Day and night he practiced this, to be sure he’d never forget, no matter how shaky he was when he saw the stranger.

After a while he put it to music, made it into a little song. Yes, that was the refrain he sang many times a day, day after day, month after month.

He kept alert for news of the stranger, but none came. Over a year went by. But the old man kept hoping and singing his song.

Then one day when he stopped at the fruit stand, he found the fruit seller very sad indeed. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’ve just received news,” said the fruit seller, “that the stranger who gave me new eyes has been arrested and is being put to death this very day.”

The old man went home and cried and cried. His chance was gone. Now he would never meet the stranger. Now he would never have new eyes.

Yet the song had become so much a part of him that he continued to sing it. And as he was singing the song on the third day after hearing the tragic news of the stranger, he suddenly felt something like scales fall from his eyes. And he began to see things differently.

Where before he saw only darkness, he saw stars and fireflies. Where before he saw only the injuries done him and resented them, he saw how much he was loved, and he found a forgiveness that healed his wounds. Where before he had seen nothing of value, he found many hidden treasures.

Where before he had passed his days in boredom and suspicion, he now lived in wonderment and trust. And whereas before people had irritated him, he saw something in them that made him think of the stranger.

And so he knew that the stranger lived.

After shadow and darkness, the eyes of the blind will see (Isaiah 29:18).

While it is still dark

Some of us can wake up on Easter morning or Easter Monday or any other morning, for that matter, and wonder where the risen Christ is.  For one reason or another, we may feel like Mary Magdalene weeping outside the tomb wondering where they have taken Him.  I wrote this a few years back on Easter morning and thought I might share it with you:

“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark . . . “ (Jn 20:1)

While it was still dark she came. She did not wait at home. She did not wait for Him or for others to come to her. And she expected to find what? Surely the stone still blocking her from Him. And yet she came. In the darkness. In her grief. She sought Him out even if only to lean her head and heart upon that stone that separated Him from her. In the darkness, in her grief she came.

And what did she find? The stone rolled away—but He was not there. He was not there. “I sought him, but found him not. I called him, but he gave no answer” (Song of Songs 5:6b). “Where have they laid him? They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him” (Jn 20:13b).

Her sorrow is now greater, yet she does not return home. She stands there weeping. And seeking. While it was still dark.

And no one else can solace her. Not angels. Not gardeners . . . She still seeks Him. While it is still dark. And that seeking, that longing of her soul, that anguish at His absence is the latch Christ uses to open her heart when He says her name: “Mary.” While it was still dark.

So go to Him. While it is still dark. While you are still weeping. Even when you cannot find Him. Stand there weeping and seeking Him. And listen for your name. Even now He is saying it.

While it is still dark.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.”

Where is Christ today?

This is the day when everything is silent.  We can go about the day not giving much of a thought to it–just seeing it as the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Yet monumental things were happening in the spiritual realm.  Christ descended to hell to set captives free.

This still has meaning for us.  So often we think nothing is happening in our own spiritual lives, yet God is about monumental things.  Have hope in the Unseen.

Christ descended into “Hell” and is therefore close to those cast into it, transforming their darkness into light.  Suffering and torment is still terrible and well-nigh unbearable.  Yet the star of hope has risen–the anchor of the heart reaches the very throne of God.  Instead of evil becoming unleashed within man, the light shines victorious: suffering–without ceasing to be suffering–becomes, despite everything, a hymn of praise. (Pope Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi)

And for those of you who feel that you are living “in darkness and in the shadow of death”, take heart, for you are exactly who he desires to visit.  From an ancient homily on Holy Saturday:

Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives . . .

While it was still dark . . .

A piece I wrote a couple of years ago on Easter morning (to call myself to more hope):

“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark . . . “ (Jn 20:1)

While it was still dark she came. She did not wait at home. She did not wait for Him or for others to come to her. And she expected to find what? Surely the stone still blocking her from Him. And yet she came. In the darkness. In her grief. She sought Him out even if only to lean upon that stone that separated Him from her. In the darkness, in her grief she came.

And what did she find? The stone rolled away—but He was not there. He was not there. “I sought him, but found him not. I called him, but he gave no answer” (Song of Songs 5:6b). “Where have they laid him? They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him” (Jn 20:13b).

Her sorrow is now greater, yet she does not return home. She stands there weeping. And seeking. While it was still dark.

And no one else can solace her. Not angels. Not gardeners . . . She still seeks Him. While it is still dark. And that seeking, that longing of her soul, that anguish at His absence is the latch Christ uses to open her heart when He says her name: “Mary.” While it was still dark.

So go to Him. While it is still dark. While you are still weeping. Even when you cannot find Him. Stand there weeping and seeking Him. And listen for your name. Even now He is saying it.

While it is still dark.