Returning the Gaze

     In my last entry I spoke of returning the gaze of those who find themselves in situations of exclusion or oppression. That profound gazing into the eyes (and heart) of the excluded is a wake-up call to discover the profound dimensions of our human existence, what I would call the divine dimension since in fact it is a bottomless well from which one can draw enormous strength and meaning.

      There is however also another and very classic version of the theme of “returning the gaze” that is perhaps even more important. Years ago, when I visited Chiapas, that largely indigenous State in southern Mexico with its long, long history of colonization, the indigenous people always looked down when addressing or being addressed by non-native people. Looking up would have been interpreted as insolence. Part of the pastoral work in the diocese at that time included that of insisting that the indigenous people look directly into the eyes of the non-natives who addressed them.  That included the foreign priests and nuns. In some way one could say that this simple change was part of the origin of the Zapatista movement. That the oppressed and excluded return the gaze of the oppressor is an important gesture, one that speaks loudly and clearly of their dignity, the respect they deserve, the equality they claim. Returning the gaze is in fact a challenge, the insolence of asking for transformation in the heart and in the relationship between oppressed and oppressor. Returning the gaze is a way of demanding that the oppressor “look” deeper.

   A Buddhist riddle asks when one would be able to determine the difference between night and the coming of daylight. After several attempts by the disciples, the master finally suggests that it is when one can recognise that the other is one’s sister or brother. It is then that the day has some.