The Nicene Creed contains the words “I believe in one God, maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.” Since both the visible and invisible are the creation of the same Creator, those words allude to a reality that has been repeatably confirmed throughout the ages. Philosophers from Aristotle to St. Thomas Aquinas have taught that the perception of objects by our senses is fundamental to our meaningful understanding of the world around us. In the first chapter of St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans, he wrote that people were senseless and like dumb animals who didn’t believe in God. Why? Because “ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made” (Rom. 1:20).
Our senses serve us well as we journey through this life. Sight and hearing are our earliest teachers, and they become our first line of defense against dangers that threaten us. When I was a boy hiking in the Southern California backcountry, if I saw (or heard) a rattlesnake, I knew immediately to change course. If nothing was available to remove the threat, I had to retreat and find another path. But are our senses always this reliable?
Adam and Eve had it on good authority that they shouldn’t eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, but we are told the serpent was crafty and caused them to question what God had told them to keep them safe from the consequences of disobedience. But Eve’s sight tempted her to listen to the serpent’s evil bidding. She saw that the fruit of the tree was “good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes” (Gen. 3:6). What could possibly be wrong? The serpent’s deception tempted our first parents to ignore God’s warning, and they partook of the forbidden fruit. We know the rest of the story, and we suffer the consequences of their decision daily.
What our senses perceive is ultimately adjudicated or influenced by our thoughts. Our mind mediates data from our senses and commands action. How our minds are formed, then, determines whether our actions are proper or not.
How our minds have been formed—even unintentionally—influences our response to Jesus’ call to love.
This is a long introduction to a point I’d like to make, beginning with a few questions: How have our perceptions been formed to respond when we see a person experiencing homelessness on the street or in the subway, or when we see someone with physical disabilities? What goes through our minds when we see someone with an intellectual or developmental disability acting out physically or verbally during Mass, on the street, or in the market? What is it that has formed our minds to respond to these people in the way we do? These questions are important to consider: How our minds have been formed—even unintentionally—influences our response to Jesus’ call to love.
There are no easy answers to these questions, and each of you reading this will most likely have a different response. I’ll be honest and say that my response in many of these situations has been shameful. I’m sure I’m not alone. So, how do we overcome our fear of humanity that challenges our comfort? The Lord hears the cry of the poor (see Ps. 34:6). Do we?
Fears can be both rational and irrational. We all begin life with trust, and it takes several months before we begin to develop fear of unfamiliar faces or separation anxieties when apart from our parents. Fear of strangers is a rational fear for young children, and fear of a rattlesnake during a walk in the backcountry is a rational fear for bigger kids and adults. We know they can hurt us, and we all want to be safe.
Fear of human differences may be more properly called aversions. We adults typically don’t fear people who are different from us, but we may experience an irrational dislike or even repugnance or prejudice against people who are poor, homeless, or disabled. Prejudice comes from the Latin word praeiudicium, which means “prior judgment.” It is a sin against the virtue of justice. We have overcome many prejudices in our society, but there are some that still trouble us and keep us from living the Gospel with regard to the poor, disabled, or sick—those whom Jesus asked us to befriend and provide for.
Sometimes judgments are based on preconceived ideas that have been either embedded in us by our backgrounds or culture, or more innocently by our innate human impulse to find comfort by sorting people into categories and then attaching ourselves to a group of people like us.
Jesus always calls us to live above the disordered inclinations of our fallen nature: to live by grace in imitation of him. “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matt. 25:40). How do we rise to be whom Jesus calls us to be—how do we overcome our aversion to different groups of people who challenge our perceptions, or who don’t appear or act like us? How do we challenge ourselves to respond to his command to welcome these people, to care for them, and to provide for their needs? We have to focus on what often seems invisible to us: the dignity and worth of every human being.
Adam and Eve were given the freedom to choose whether to obey God. So are we. Like them, when we see something that tempts us, or disturbs us, we are too often motivated to act on bad formation. It is a constant challenge for us to reform the information pathways that move data from our senses to our minds—from the visible to the invisible—so that we can be effective instruments of Christ’s love. The good news is prior judgments can be reformed by encounter and friendship. We overcome irrational fears by familiarity.
So, what does the mind of an informed Christian know? Easy answer: Those things that have been revealed to us. More specifically, we know we must look beyond appearances to the realities that lie within them. What is visible may lead to wrong conclusions. Beneath the appearance of disability, homelessness, or poverty is a brother or sister created in the image of God and worthy of honor and respect.
One of the first marks of the early Church that distinguished Christians from Roman culture was its care for the poor. Christians went beyond the dominant culture to uphold the dignity of all people. They learned to do that from Jesus. Today, the Lord still hears the cry of the poor. Do we? If we do, how do we respond?