Dear brothers and sisters,
After Jesus looked at him in love, the rich young man in today’s Gospel “went away sad” (Mark 10:22). When Jesus looked at Peter, he “went out and began to weep bitterly” (Luke 22:62; cf. Luke 22:61). Those who look upon his Holy Face in the Veil of Manoppello also feel a certain sadness when they look into his eyes. Perhaps you, too, have felt sad in the presence of the Lord Jesus. Why is this?
Jesus looked upon the rich young man with love (cf. Mark 10:21), as he also surely looked upon Peter. He looks upon you and me with love, as well, but if this is so, what is it about the look of Jesus that elicits sadness within those upon whom he turns his eyes?
When Jesus looked at Peter, they were within the courtyard of the high priest; Peter had just three times denied knowing Jesus (cf. Luke 22:60). Jesus’ look of love revealed Peter’s sinfulness to him and so Peter wept bitterly on account of his failure to love God and neighbor perfectly; he was not yet ready to abandon his own plans and devices.
Christ and the rich young man by the Master of Delpf
The rich young man knew what is needed for growth in holiness; he kept the commandments, but he was not yet willing to surrender himself to what the commandments point: he needed to take “a leap in quality” and give his life “completely, without calculation or personal interest, with unreserved trust in God” (cf. Mark 10:20).[1] In short, he was not yet willing to follow the commandments without compromise. Jesus’ look of love revealed his sinfulness to him; he went away sad on account of his failure to love God and neighbor perfectly. He went away sad on account of what he was not yet willing to leave behind.
He must have been a person of some importance, that rich young man. Why, then, does he remain anonymous? Why do we not know his name? It seems probable that “if he had responded positively to the invitation of Jesus, he would have become his disciple and probably the Evangelist would have recorded his name.”[2] It is also possible he is not named because – in some mystical fashion – he represents you and me. Do we not also become sad on account of our sins, because of our failure to love both God and neighbor? Do we not also become sad because of what we are not yet willing to leave behind?
Here we learn a great secret of the human person and of our fallen nature:
We are used to thinking that our sadness depends on something we lack: we deceive ourselves by thinking that if we have enough of what we desire, we will be happy.
This is precisely the serpent’s deceit described in the story of original sin (cf. Genesis 3).
The serpent deceived Eve and Adam by making them believe that for them to be happy and truly be alive, they must possess everything without any limits; there can be nothing that is forbidden to them, and they must not lack.
The serpent's cunning lies precisely in making what we lack seem essential and irreplaceable for our happiness and fulfillment in life.[3]
Thus, we think gaining perishable things is happiness and sadness is losing things that fade and decay. How do we overcome this sadness?
Blessed Carlo Acutis once sad, “Sadness is looking at oneself, happiness is looking at God. Conversion is nothing but a movement of the eyes.” Happiness comes when I allow Jesus’ eyes to meet mine; happiness is found when I do not turn my eyes away from Jesus’ look of love. If I am to allow my eyes to be held by his, I must cast aside everything that hinders me from loving fully; I must cast aside those things which distract me from him. You must do the same. We must accept what Jesus offers: “a relationship in which he feels looked upon and loved not because of what one does, nor possesses, but because of an original gift that is given to us before any possible response.”[4] We must accept that he sees us and loves us not because of what we have or because of what we have done, but because we are.
If we are to allow our eyes to be held by his, we must surrender ourselves to him; we must yield to the power of his love. We must take a leap in quality and strive after “heroism in holiness.”[5] Doing so is not easy and requires great courage, for
Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives become evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire”. But it is a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally ourselves and thus totally of God.[6]
His look of love reminds us that “no creature is concealed from him, but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must render an account” (Hebrews 4:13). What is more, his look of love allows us to fulfill the goal of the commandments: to attain a true and mystical union with God.
Dear brothers and sisters, in only a few moments the Lord Jesus will look upon you and me with love. What do I mean? Saint John Vianney noticed that one of his parishioners daily entered the church and appeared to simply sit in the pew day after day. When asked what he did in the church everything, the man answered simply, intriguingly, and beautifully: “I look at [Jesus] and he looks at me.”[7]
That man understood the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist and did with Jesus what a husband and wife do to each other after decades of marriage. This is what you and I must also do with Jesus; we must allow him to look upon us with love and we must look upon him with love. The continual look of his love will purify us and, by slowly severing our attachments to the things of this world, his look of love will remove our sadness – provided we do not turn away. Then, in the end, “the gracious care of the Lord our God [will] be ours” and we will “shout for joy and gladness all our days” (Psalm 90:16, 14). Amen.
