This past Tuesday the Gospel of the day was one we heard recently on a Sunday. In part, it read, “At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd” (Mt 9:36). It is true that on that day, Jesus saw the crowds who were in that particular place and His Heart was moved for them. But, it is also true that on that day, Jesus saw the crowds of all places and times. He saw me on that day. He saw you. And, His Heart was moved. The human heart desires to be seen and to be known. At the same time, we are fearful of being thoroughly known. In fact, we even attempt to hide ourselves even from our very selves! There are things we would rather not look at, acknowledge, or provide any attention. Left, however, unattended, these weeds tend to strangle life within us. Think of the person whose life is given over to some particular vice, whether it be to gambling, online shopping, pornography, a substance like drugs or alcohol, or intemperance in food. The risks increase, the debts grow, and the self-loathing and anxieties increase. To alleviate the anxiety, the person repeats the behavior that, in turn, only increases the risks, the debts, the self-loathing, and the anxieties. It becomes a vicious cycle. We can say something similar about other vices. How many people are filled with anger, resentments, and bitterness against others even while they acknowledge that these things are poisoning themselves? Instead of dealing with these things, they deprive themselves of interior peace in order to stoke the interior fires of bitterness. There are many things in each of us that we would rather not acknowledge. This is what frightens us a bit, I think, about opening ourselves up to the Lord. There is something about his penetrating gaze that frightens us because we know that He sees it all. He saw the crowds that day. He didn’t see them in a cursory manner. He saw them. He saw them, truly. He saw us. He sees us. He sees it all. He knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows us simply. He sees our virtues and our vices. He sees our hopes and disappointments. He sees our successes and our failures. He sees our joys and our sorrows. He sees our sins. He sees those aspects of ourselves that we would like to hide. And so, like Adam and Eve, after the Fall, we tend to want to hide from the Lord. But, his gaze falls upon us. This would, in fact, be utterly terrifying, except that St. Matthew tells us that “At the sight of the crowds”– at the sight of us–“His heart was moved with pity for them.” This, in a sense, is the shockingly good news of the Gospel. There is One who knows everything about us, and this penetrating gaze does not stir him towards repulsion, resignation, or abandonment. Instead, His Heart is moved with pity. He wants to shepherd the sheep who are troubled and who have no one to care for them. His gaze is not one of disdain or indifference. His gaze is one of mercy. When we visit the Lord in the Eucharist, we encounter that gaze upon us in a particularly penetrating way. From the tabernacle, Jesus looks upon us whole and entire. Nothing escapes His notice. Yet, to our amazement, nothing also escapes His love. Most days, both the upstairs church and the lower church are open for prayer during large parts of the day. There is a deeply Catholic custom of, “paying a visit.” It simply means to stop by and be with the Lord for a few moments. It doesn’t have to be long. I encourage you to consider cultivating a habit of “paying a visit” now and again, either to our church or to another. Just come in and remember that Jesus is looking at you. He is seeing you completely and totally. Nothing is hidden from His eyes. What He sees moves Him. You are looking at Him and He is looking at you. And, He loves you. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes