How Does Jesus See Me?

Santa Maria is on the right.

 Today I visited Chiesa di Santa Maria Dei Miracoli in Piazza del Popolo. Santa Maria is the usual baroque styled church found all over Rome. What was unusual about it though, is that it carries a modern art installation by Marco Manzo titled, "Our Hands". Marco Manzo is an internationally known Roman visual artist, tattooist, and sculptor. 

Manzo's installation is a series of sculpted hands attached to mirrors. Some of the hands are grasping the air, others are holding weapons such as an axe or a gun. One hand has a nail through it. These hands depict the hands of Jesus, his executioners, and Mary Magdalene. The hands pierced and tortured are the hands of Jesus. The hands poised to inflict violence belong to the executioners of Christ. And the hands grasping are the hands of Mary Magdalene. These hands remember two moments in Mary's life which occurred only three days apart: the first moment occurred when Mary stood beside the cross bearing the dead body of our Lord and reached for him; the second moment occurred when Mary met Jesus in the garden after his Resurrection and grasped his robe. 

As I looked at the hands, I could not help but see my own. Although the hands represent those of Jesus, his executioners, and Mary, they are anonymous hands. They are white and carry no distinguishing features. The impact this has is powerful: when I look at each hand, the mirror on which it is mounted, also displays me. 

Reflecting on Manzo's installation, the Italian theologian, Giuseppe Lorizio, writes: "The contemplation of violent hands and loving hands accompanies our journey, so that everyone may look at their own hands and ask themselves whether they are a source of suffering or consolation for others, not only for those we love but especially for the wretched of the earth we encounter on our way." Lorizio's reflection challenges me to interrogate myself: who am I to the person beside me? How do they perceive me, my words, and my actions? 

Whenever I repeat my baptismal vows, I restate my promise to recognize Christ in every person. Do I do that? Or do I simply assume that I do?

Earlier this week, Monsignor Gabriel Quicke said that ecumenism, the work towards Christian unity, requires a conversion of the heart and mind so that we can become open towards the faith of others. Conversion is hard. Before I can change, before I evaluate my actions, I have to be honest about who I am with myself. I have to face myself. It is not a coincidence that the hands Manzo sculpted are mounted on mirrors. The mirror reflects the sculpted hand back to itself. We cannot hide from ourselves even when we try.

The hands bring forth another question: do I recognize Christ when I see myself in the mirror? When I look in the mirror, do I see a person loved by Jesus and saved by him when he died on the cross 2,000 years ago? The grasping hands and the hands holding weapons are redeemed by Christ's hands. Conversion is hard. Being honest with myself is hard. The parables of the lost sheep and the prodigal son that Jesus tells disciples, reminds us that Christ is gentle with us as we struggle to follow him. His response to our ups and downs, our successes and failures, as we struggle to convert is love. 

In the end, Manzo's installation challenges us to see ourselves the way Christ sees us--as Children of God, loved and redeemed by the Trinue God who created.