Story-telling on the big silver screen — especially science fiction with cool special effects, captivates me. I recently re-watched Avatar, James Cameron’s blockbuster commentary on deforestation and celebration of generic Earth Mother spirituality, for the sheer beauty of the cinematography.
I could do without the enviro-politics and pantheism, but the relationships were compelling. In fact, I was struck by a beautiful bit of dialog.
The main characters express their love for each other by saying, “I see you.”
I love that. It speaks to a vulnerability that, I admit, can be very frightening. To be seen — really seen — by another person is both excruciatingly painful and terribly liberating.
What an act of love to open ourselves in a such a way. To be seen like this is to say here I am — this is all of me — and I hope it is enough.
It takes every weakness, every fault, and exposes it side by side with what we hope are our best qualities.
There’s no guarantee in that kind of exposure — what if when all is said…and done..and seen, it really isn’t enough?
I’ve been thinking about this for some weeks as I work through a consecration to Jesus through Mary. Like Mary, I’ve been pondering a lot of things. Things I’ve never really thought about too deeply.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve done much pondering in my life. It’s an old-fashioned way of saying thinking, but it’s more — it’s meditation and deep thought.
I admit I’ve been deep in thought, pondering the meaning of this consecration. I’ve sat for hours before the Blessed Sacrament, exposed on the altar (Jesus exposed? Me? Both?), and I’ve pondered many things.
On a very practical level, I understand that Jesus and Mary can see me, can look into my heart and soul and see what’s really there. It’s quite another thing to be an active participant in this relationship and consciously, intentionally, open myself — not to scrutiny, which is what we might fear in human relationships, but something much more — an intimacy beyond my understanding.
It is saying here I am — this is all of me — but instead of wondering if its’s enough, it’s the consolation that all of it, all of me will be transformed, reformed, conformed into something, someone, better.