On The Bluest Eye

I just finished reading The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. It was a very sad, yet thought provoking book written essentially about racial beauty. In the afterward, Toni Morrison writes about how she wanted to explore the idea of how someone so young and vulnerable can come to wear ugly and believe it, how a an innocent child can take every comment, action, and stare to shame them for things they are not responsible for. I appreciated one thing in particular about the book. It told the book from the perspective of several characters. The people that I hated in the beginning, I gained sympathy for as I read their story of childhood. It reminded me of how we each have a story and these stories make us who we are and yet don't have to define us. Sometimes, we often times let our past determine our future, our upbringing determine our character, our warped perspectives dictate our actions.

Two main themes of the book would probably be be love and beauty. On the last page of the book she says:


Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly, but the love a free man is never safe. There is no gift for the beloved. the lover alone possesses his gift of love. The loved one is shorn, neutralized, frozen in the glance of the lover’s inward eyes.


I have been trying to decide if this is true. If a wicked person "loves" is it love? Who defines this love? In the first chapter of the book (so I'm not ruining anything), you find out that one of the little girls was raped by her father and is now pregnant (told you it was sad). But the astonishing thing is that later in the book you actually feel sorry for him. Morrison describes that act from his point of view and it is so twisted and warped yet you can actually see his confusion and his effort to love turned violent. He did not know real love. He did not know how to love.

In the afterword, you read that while the entire story is made up, Morrison did have an African- American girl in elementary school tell her she wanted blue eyes and it mortified Morrison. She writes, "Until that moment I had seen the pretty, the lovely, the nice, the ugly, and although I had certainly used the word "beautiful" I have never experienced it's shock- the force which was equaled by the knowledge that no one else recognized it, not even, or especially, the one who possessed it... Beauty was not simply something to behold, it was something one could do."

So it's not the attainment of beauty, it's the recognition of it? For who defines beauty? Who recognizes it? The person himself or others around him? Who can defile beauty? Why do we defile beauty? How do we defile beauty? I believe this issue runs deeper than movie stars, cameras, tv, and magazines and botox or plastic surgeons.

In looking up verses in the Bible on beauty and beautiful I came across a passage that made me stop.

"One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon. Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, “Look at us!” So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.

   Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong. He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God. When all the people saw him walking and praising God, they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate called Beautiful, and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him." (Acts 3:1-10; NIV)

I find it interesting and of no coincidence that this man was sitting at the temple gates called Beautiful. Think of the judgements and glances that were cast upon him for years as he was lame from the time of birth. You are cursed. You must have done something wrong. You have a defect. You are not beautiful. You are not loved. You will never find love. You are no good. There were loud, mean direct comments, there were averted eyes ashamed of his stature, there were quiet condemning whispers. They probably laughed at the irony of the Ugly sitting at the gate of Beautiful. 

And all it took was for Peter to look straight at him. To look straight at him. To see through the cloak of ugly he was told to wear and now did so willingly without thought. He saw what this man needed- not pity, not condemnation, not a self-help book, not a hand out, not silver, not gold. He needed Jesus. He needed to look upon the beauty of Jesus. He needed to see the beauty of Jesus inside himself. And so he walked.

Although Peter didn't use the the word, "beautiful," he spoke beauty over him in words and with his eyes. How powerful are the words we speak aloud over people. With our words we can build wall or tear them down. With our words we can grow flowers or weeds. With our words we can bring light or darkness. 

A faithful God loves faithfully.
A constant God loves constantly.
A consistent God loves consistently.
A generous God loves generously.
A patient God loves patiently.
A gracious God loves graciously.
A merciful God love mercifully.
A wise God loves wisely.
A perfect God loves perfectly.
A zealous God loves zealously.
A beautiful God loves beautifully.

Silver or gold I do not have, 

but what I do have I give you in the name of Jesus,

  You

     are

       beautiful.