I saw a mother breastfeeding on the train. She covered herself as the child took what she was freely giving. A sacred sharing. Her tilted downward gaze, the shape of her eyes, the curl of her lips, glowed as if transfigured. Time stopped for one eternal moment, and on that specific day, in that specific place, I saw the ancient, beautiful marriage of desire and mercy. Hunger flowing in both directions, emptying into the same great river. It was the tender gaze of belonging.
Drawn by his hunger, the little man wanted to see the young rabbi badly.* And the rabbi is moved by his desire. They both want the same thing. The rabbi sees the shape of the dinner table within his home, just like he sees the shape of his heart. Zacchaeus climbed a particular tree, the same one he climbed as a boy. It was the boy inside of him who climbed high enough to see something beyond himself. Jesus could see the hunger in his gaze. He was hungry too. Zacchaeus saw his house from another angle, a widening of his lens, just as the birds who flew away could see it. And he was seen.
To see and be seen is the heart of all belonging, which grows, intertwined, with our hunger for food. We only need to be reminded, with just a hush of a whisper, that we belong to her. With a breast full of milk, a nest full of eggs, and a heart full of mercy, our Mother longs to feed us all. It is right here, right now, in this particular place, at this particular time, that god invites herself to see us.
*Luke 19:1-10, The Message
–Jim Marsh, Jr., Bread of Life Church
