Was Blind...But Now I See

It might be the most ridiculous and shallow thing in the world to admit, but, this past week, I have been jealous of a blind man.

Not in that understated, friendly manner of speaking either. No, my petty little heart actually had moments of feeling, "That isn't fair," when watching, Kyle, a blind member of our group get special favors at some of the sacred and even not so sacred sites throughout the tour. Whenever I would have this thought, almost immediately, a saner voice would remind myself how many obstacles, every day, this kind and humble man faces living without sight and I'd wish I was a better, more humble, more grateful soul.  Like I said, ridiculous.

At many of our stops, after standing together to receive the historical, traditional or scripture account of a place, we'd take our pictures and then this blind man would have the opportunity to go and feel it with his hands. 

The first wicked pang came when a nun took him past a roped off area to touch the rock, underneath an alter, celebrated as the rock where Christ blessed the five loaves of bread and two fishes and fed the multitudes. 

As embarrassing as my admission of jealousy is, that feeling continued to grow as he continued to get special attention at places. He radiates intelligence and patience and curiosity and our Israeli tour guide has really taken to him and put under her wing. When we visited thr outside of the Israeli parliament, or Kismet, buildings two days ago, she looked around, said, "No one is here. I am going to break the rules for Kyle," and helped him over a waist high fence to feel the symbols on a special menorah sculpture that explains the history of Israel and the Jewish people. 

Yesterday, at the Mount of Olives, she again got permission from a church and took him into a garden where no one else could go so he could feel the gnarled trunks on two thousand year-old Olive trees. Even though I had had a special feeling just moments before of my own, on my own, I had a hard time watching him. I wanted to touch the tree as well. In my warped sense, feeling seemed superior to seeing, at least at that moment. 

I reached my breaking point when he was escorted into the burial chamber of the garden tomb to feel the stone beds where Christ's body might have lain before His resurrection which is, again, roped off to everyone else.  My experience, standing behind the ropes and taking pictures, seemed less than his. More than that, I felt insignificant. 

Some reading this may, by this point, feel mad or annoyed at me.  I understand. Not only am I being incredibly ungrateful about my own blessing of sight but I am also being uncharitable towards someone with a disability. Looking back on my own feelings this week, I'm annoyed and mad at myself. It's not as if I've been sulking or rude or defiant. All of this has been an internal struggle. So, why do I bring it up? Why do I expose such an unattractive thought?

You see, there is so much to see here. Sometimes, in fact, there is too much to see. Many times, my very visual way of learning has struggled to ignore all of the candles, statues, gold leafing and cathedrals that surround almost all of the sacred sights. The trip had been amazing and an answer to prayer but it isn't what I expected. I expected a little bit of ornamentation but different sects of Christianity, wars and governments for two millennia haven't left many things in this country untouched. It's hard to see all of the crowds, the many different faiths, armed soldiers, tour buses, modern buildings and think, "Christ was here." 

But, that very thought HAS come to my mind. Many times, in fact. And the times I have felt it the strongest was never after seeing something. Oh, the visual of the city and area has helped but, yesterday, a feeling came to me, very strongly, that none of our physical senses will ever solely testify of the miracle of Christ's birth, life, death and resurrection. They can't. Eye witnesses during his lifetime attest to that very fact. Seeing does not equal believing. 

That doesn't mean I don't think seeing helps. It does. But, seeing is only an aid, a visual aid. Without sight, Kyle relies on his other senses as aids but I don't think one sense is superior to another. The spirit, however, is superior to all of them. What I was witnessing and probably more accurately jealous of, was Kyle's humility being rewarded with the spirit of testimony at each place.

I feel like Laman and Lemuel, murmuring after seeing an angel. I think the reason I feel moved to share these thoughts and this experience is because, by my own unintended standards I began this trip with, my testimony of Jesus Christ should now be stronger or better developed than those who haven't traveled to Israel and seen the places in the scriptures with their own eyes. When I put it like this, I know I don't and never have thought this. But, it's awfully tempting to compare experiences and testimonies, isn't it?  

I hope I have learned something important on this trip. I'm grateful for my sight. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to come to Israel, not only to see but to understand, really, that we don't have to see to believe. Or touch with our hands. Or hear with our ears or smell with our noses or lick with our tongues.  These senses, which we depend upon, help us learn and grow and but only though the power of the Holy Ghost will we ever know. And, yes, I have FELT that power here with my heart.