I’m always keeping an eye open for things in popular culture that would make for good metaphors or analogies for Christianity. Are you familiar with the “magic eye”?

Familiar with it? I’m nuts about it, ever since my son Nathan introduced me to it. I never could make sense out of it until one day I saw him having such a blast with a whole book full of magic eyes. I decided I better figure this one out, and it sure was worth it. Check out www.magiceye.com. And yes, it’s an incredible metaphor. But first, you better explain what it is for our readers.

Well, as should appear in the accompanying example, you basically see an interesting design — nice to look at, maybe a bit eye-catching, but nothing you’d want to look at for more than a minute or so. Then, you completely relax and let your eyes go out of focus. It helps to hold it a couple inches from your face, where it’s automatically blurred, and then pull it away slowly, keeping your focus blurred. If you’re patient, a three-dimensional image will come into the foreground, with the original design staying in the background. It’s pretty amazing. I don’t know how they do it, but it’s great!

It sure is, and it really is a fantastic analogy for Christianity — for the very heart and soul of Christianity, which is the experience of God’s own Trinitarian life dwelling right within us. Think about it for a minute. The reality of grace indwelling within a person is not something immediately visible, is not part of what is “natural” to a person. If you see a human being walking down the street, and even see that person do a good deed for someone, you don’t see grace at work. You see the individual’s physical nature, and then you see a morally good act. You see someone following natural physical laws and natural moral laws, but you don’t know from that whether or not sanctifying grace indwells a person.

In fact, if you did know that grace existed in that person, and tried to explain it to someone who didn’t understand it, it would be very difficult — just like explaining the magic eye to someone who had no clue about it!

Aha! You’ve picked up the analogy perfectly! Note that once you’ve experienced grace, you realize that it is more real than the natural world, and that the natural world is really just the surface of reality. Nothing against the natural world; it’s truly good and beautiful in its own right. But a whole new adventure awaits each of us beneath the surface of the natural world, and that’s the dynamic adventure of the life of grace, the adventure of living one’s entire life in the presence of and in light of that mystery.

Enjoy the design for a moment. Then, you completely relax and let your eyes go out of focus. It helps to hold it a couple inches from your face, where it’s automatically blurred, and then pull it away slowly, keeping your focus blurred. If you’re patient, a three-dimensional image will come into the foreground, with the original design staying in the background.

 

I see it! It’s like the magic eye: Once you get used to seeing what’s really there, you realize that the new image you’ve discovered is more real than the rest of the picture, which now is just the background against which the image can appear. Nothing against the background; it’s quite nice in its own right. But it’s not the whole picture, not even the most real and important part of the picture. Imagine someone totally enthralled with just the background of the magic eye. We’d say, “That’s great, but you have no idea what you’re missing!”

And we’d quickly introduce the person to what is really there. The life of grace is not something only for a privileged few, who have some special knowledge or belong to a special cult. It’s for everyone.

This is one of the main elements that has distinguished the heart of Christianity from other religious and philosophical systems. In Aristotle’s Greek philosophical system, for instance, only those specially trained in philosophical reasoning could engage in the contemplating of universal truths. But with Christianity, anyone can do it, just like the magic eye.

In fact, we tell people learning the magic eye that they already have what it takes to see the image, that the image is right there awaiting them, almost asking to be “pulled in.” Grace is exactly like that. It’s already present and waiting for everyone, even if it doesn’t come easily for everyone, even if not everyone wants to accept it.

Grace — which of course comes from the Trinitarian God Himself — does all the work. We just cooperate with it, which is no small order. The Pelagian heresy taught falsely that we ourselves accomplished the task of achieving our salvation, with Jesus just a model for us to follow. St. Augustine, who fought that heresy, showed how God really does everything, but that our free will must cooperate with God’s grace.

Brilliant — when people finally “get” the magic eye, they have a profound sense that the magic image was there all along, and that they just hadn’t been cooperating fully with it. They often have a sense that the image controls them, as opposed to their being fully in control of the image. I’m starting to think that this magic eye isn’t a simple analogy but a complex one that illumines all sorts of truth about the life of sanctifying grace.

The image is so rich that I had to obtain permission from Envoy to double the size of this article! Now I’m glad you used the term “sanctifying grace,” because it signifies something important about the divine life dwelling in us. This divine life makes you a radically different kind of person, just as the magic eye image makes the picture — on the deeper level — a radically different kind of picture. What kind of person does grace make you? It makes you a holy person, a sanctified person.

Think of it this way. You are headed toward your ultimate end, the Beatific Vision, when you will see God face to face. Now it gets pretty exciting: That which you will possess at your final destiny is something you already possess within you while you are journeying toward that destiny. You carry your ultimate goal right within you. You have “ready access” to it!

Because you possess this divine life within you, and have ready access to it, it’s there habitually, just as when you get the hang of the magic eye, you have a habit formed in you that allows you to access the hidden picture. Of course you have to slow down, focus on the picture (and then unfocus), and take some time to let it appear, in order to make use of this habit. Another word for a good habit is virtue, and that’s why the grace that abides in you is called a virtue — not a moral virtue, but a theological virtue, a virtue infused in you by God.

The most common name for this theological virtue is charity. It’s not the charity with which we love others, but God’s own love, in fact His very self, infused into us (see Rom 5:5). There are numerous other names for it: We possess sanctifying grace; we are sons of God, adopted sons or heirs (see Gal 6:15); we are a new creation (see 2 Cor 5:16-21); we have a share in the divine nature (see 2 Pt 1:3-5), or what the early Fathers called “divinization.”

Wow! The magic eye analogy really drives home the point that God’s grace is a sheer gift. You’re right: When people catch on to it, they have the distinct sense that something has been waiting there for them all along, and it really is a matter of cooperating with it.

Sometimes people get so intrigued with the supposedly amazing magic eye image awaiting them that they feel hounded by it. They’re restless. It bugs them until they figure it out. Just like grace, just like Christ, the “hound of heaven,” who persistently offers Himself to us.

But what about those people who can’t make the magic eye work? Isn’t the analogy a real dead end for them?

I don’t think so at all. Let’s start with the person who already believes in God’s grace (he has the virtue of faith) and is working on deepening that life. Through the analogy, that individual can become more empathetic toward those who sincerely think that they haven’t received the gift of grace. They may be interested in it, but they’re convinced it just isn’t going to happen for them, at least not yet.

Now of course, we know that for such people it’s not that God’s grace is being withheld — just as with the magic eye, it’s not as if the image isn’t there for some people. The gift is there! Rather, there’s something in them preventing them from seeing and accepting the gift. God, for His own reasons, allows that barrier to remain, often for a long time.

Then, just as it is with the magic eye, something clicks. We can’t do this for someone else; we have to contribute what we can and be patient, realizing that we’re not the ones who give grace. With the magic eye, you can tell your friends about it, explain how it works, be encouraging, but you can’t make it happen for them. You have to let go; often you have to let them be by themselves. For all these reasons, then, the person who can’t seem to get the magic eye should be most understanding and empathetic toward an individual who’s putting some barrier in the way of the life of grace.

Since we’re discussing those people who can’t make the magic eye work, now consider the person who doesn’t believe in grace. The magic eye analogy will work the other way around. The analogy may well serve to illustrate an important truth about the Catholic faith: Those who have embraced the life of grace are not irrational people who have put their brains in a box on their way into church (that is, into the Eucharistic presence of Christ). There really is something there, just like the magic eye phenomenon really does exist, even though a particular individual doesn’t presently see it.

To see the hidden magic eye image, a first step is for your intellect to accept the fact that there really is something there, that this all “makes sense,” that it’s not irrational. I like this: Aren’t there a lot of believers who hold that faith is fundamentally irrational?

That position, a very popular one, is called fideism. Faith is absolutized and reason is pushed out; the truths of the faith are said to be incompatible with reason. So the magic eye analogy is a good anti-fideist tool.

On the one hand, the intellect alone can’t grasp the hidden image, any more than the intellect alone can know about grace, the Trinity, the sacraments or the Incarnation. Rather, to see these truths requires a special, deeper way of seeing — we call it seeing with the “eyes of faith” — just as picking out the magic eye image requires a special way of seeing. But this special way of seeing isn’t irrational at all. The intellect presents these truths as a way of seeing that is highly reasonable, in fact more reasonable than any other way of seeing.

Likewise, a person learning to do the magic eye recognizes that it’s eminently reasonable to seek out the hidden image, even though reason alone won’t be able to find that image. He intellectually accepts the fact that the image is there. He could base this intellectual acceptance on several things, and this is all analogous to what are called the “motives of credibility for the Catholic faith.”

Consider: A person could base his intellectual acceptance on authority, because he knows that experts in optics would tell him the image is there. Similarly, a person interested in the Catholic faith notices that many highly intelligent people who speak with authority, from all different walks of life, are believers. This provides not belief itself, but a good reason to believe, a motive of credibility.

He could also base his intellectual acceptance on the sublimity of the object of belief. He sees the beauty of the external backdrop of the magic eye images, he sees others take delight in the images, and he says, “There must be something great going on there.” In the same way, a person could be impressed with the sheer beauty of the Catholic faith — perhaps in the inner coherence of its doctrine, perhaps in the beautiful outward manifestations of the Faith, such as beautiful liturgy, beautiful churches, perhaps in the outstanding and heroic lives of Christian saints.

These motives of credibility can help an unbeliever be more open to belief as something eminently reasonable. They can also enhance the person who already believes. St. Thomas puts it wonderfully: “When a man has a ready will to believe, he rejoices in the truth which he believes, thinks about it, and turns it over in his mind to see whether he can find a reason for it” (Summa Theologica, II-II, 2, 10). When he finds such reasons, he then delights in the fact that his belief is eminently reasonable.

Say we have someone, an unbeliever, who accepts these motives of credibility, accepts that there is something out there that would be reasonable to believe in. What’s the next step? Say more about this “special way of seeing,” this highly reasonable way of seeing that is nonetheless beyond reason. How does someone learn this special way of seeing?

I think you need a method — nothing complicated; just a simple method. Think about what’s needed to grasp the magic eye images. When people can’t do it, almost always it’s because the magic eye really isn’t their first priority. Someone else has told them to try it, they have other important things to do, but they’re willing to pause for a moment to see if they can find the hidden image. If there’s the slightest bit of pressure, they’ll never find it. If they’re waiting for a phone call, or if they know someone else is waiting to look at the magic eye, the hidden image will elude them.

I’ve found that, for virtually every person I’ve encountered who can’t see the magic eye, there’s one main reason for the frustration: Under pressure to see it they get frustrated, and then become convinced they can’t get it. A good reminder to us in our evangelical efforts! Never impose, only propose, as Pope John Paul II consistently reminds us. “The truth can impose itself only by virtue of its own truth” (see also Vatican II, Decree on Religious Liberty, 2).

The solution to the frustration? Find a place to relax, knowing that you have “all the time in the world.” Without any external pressures, there’s a much higher likelihood that the image will come into the foreground. Then, it helps a lot to use the right way of seeing. You don’t look at the magic eye the way you would read a newspaper. You do just the opposite: It’s eminently reasonable to relax the eyes and see in an unfocused way, knowing that the hidden image will then, paradoxically, come into focus.

Another hint, which one of my students came up with: Pretend you’re “seeing through” the page, looking past it. As you move the page farther from your eyes, trying to look through or beyond it, paradoxically the image will appear right in front of you. This method really helps you to see in a new, deeper way, because you have to abandon (put to death) your usual, more comfortable way of seeing.

This is exciting beyond measure: a great evangelistic tool for introducing the life of grace to someone, or to help someone deepen his understanding. It’s obvious that these methods you speak of are analogous to the life of prayer and the sacraments.

You know the phrase “what you see is what you get,” right? Well, with the sacraments, as with the magic eye, it’s just the opposite; you get a lot more than you see. You see water poured on an infant; you see a bishop lay hands on a young man; you see a young couple exchange vows; you see bread and wine on the altar. These look like nice ceremonies surrounding important events in life, but there’s more than meets the eye.

A fundamental change — an ontological change, as philosophers and theologians call it — takes place in the person. The infant is a new creation, the young man is made capable of sacramentally re-presenting Christ, the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ, the couple become “one flesh,” an indissoluble bond joining them. Very simple, and very profound. Not apparent, but really there, like the magic eye.

As for prayer, there are many different kinds, and I think seeing the magic eye is especially analogous to meditative and then contemplative prayer. In meditation, you work very hard to gaze on a set of images that come from Scripture or from some part of the Christian tradition. For instance, you might gaze on one of Jesus’ parables, or meditate on the Trinity in light of a famous prayer or some other text in the Tradition. Your mind is very active in meditative prayer, but your mind is illumined by faith, just as it’s very active in pulling out the magic eye image, but in a way illumined by the deeper way of seeing.

Then, in contemplative prayer you gaze on the reality without the intellect doing any analytical work. This would be like the simple enjoyment of the magic eye image — just letting it be there. Then at a certain point, you just can’t see the image anymore; it recedes, even though you know it’s there. Likewise in contemplative prayer, the reality which you contemplate recedes from the eye of faith at a certain point.

Sometimes contemplative prayer just doesn’t work at all.

Most of the time, for me! I guess that would be like those magic eyes that just don’t seem to yield an image at all. One of the books I’ve looked at with my son Nathan has magic eye images that I’ve never been able to see, and it reminds me of the numerous instances in which effort at contemplative prayer — or any type of prayer for that matter — falls apart before it even starts!

Sounds familiar! But at least it’s comforting to know that, like the magic eye image, there really is something there to be had, something to keep working on, something really worthwhile to work on.

To carry this part of the analogy a bit further, consider the “dark night of the soul,” those times in the spiritual life when there is absolute nothingness. You know that grace is present, but it sure feels like it’s absent. It’s like looking at difficult magic eyes that just don’t “give out” their image. You know it’s there, but you just have to wait patiently. Sometimes nothing happens at all.

At least there’s a nice backdrop to look at! What about when the backgrounds are less than pleasant to look at?

Some of the backgrounds are pleasant, many are dizzying, and a few can be just plain horrific. These backgrounds are analogous to our lives, our personal histories. With all their ups and downs, they are the backdrops against which we discover and live the life of grace. C. S. Lewis has a great line in the Screwtape Letters where he says that history is the material for obedience, that is, the challenging context within which we align our lives with God, within which we deepen His life within us. The Council of Trent calls this deepening the “increase of justification.”

The key thing to remember is that everyone’s life has at least some aspects that are horrific, those challenges that seem almost impossible to survive: the death of a loved one, severe physical or psychological difficulties, caring for an aging family member, you name it. But grace is boldly present right in the midst of these challenges, just as the magic eye image appears even against rather undesirable backdrops. Sometimes the brilliance of grace appears all the more boldly when the backdrop is dismal. I recall a priest, imprisoned in China for several decades, speaking of his ordeal positively as a “retreat,” a time to be with God, deepening the life of grace. Incredible!

When the backdrop of the magic eye is frustrating and won’t easily yield its secret, we face a startling choice: Run away from it, or find the profound image behind it. When the context of a person’s life becomes horribly frustrating, it’s the same choice.

This has been great! I can hardly wait to use this analogy. I think it will be really helpful for parents, CCD teachers, high school teachers, youth ministers … It will help get across the fact that grace isn’t a only a theological concept buried in a catechism, but a vivid reality.

Your comment just made me aware of another angle in the analogy: the distinction between the lived experience of the Faith, and theological reflection on the Faith. Let me ask you a question. Do you understand how the magic eye works in terms of physics and optics? Could you explain in scientific terms how these things work?

I really can’t. In some of the magic eye books, there are nice introductions that explain how it all works. I’ve enjoyed reading them, but I couldn’t begin to explain it to anyone. I guess I don’t have a very scientific mind.

Same here. But isn’t it great that you don’t have to understand it fully in order to experience it! This is just like the relationship between the spiritual and moral life itself, and the theological and philosophical underpinnings of that life. We need not become a quasi-expert theologian to have access to the life of grace, any more than we must understand the optics of the magic eye before enjoying the magic eye itself.

On the other hand, having a basic grasp of the optics is helpful, and most people are curious enough to want to find out at least a little about it. Likewise, the study of basic theology often adds a great deal to our actual experience of the faith and growth in the spiritual life. That’s why lots of people like to read Envoy and many other great sources of theological insight.

Similarly, it’s possible to have a brilliant grasp of Catholic theology and have a dead faith — just as someone can expertly explain the optics behind the magic eye, but for one reason or another can no longer experience the magic eye images.

Certainly the people who produce all the magic eyes have a grasp of how it works.

Well, some do and some don’t. The brains behind it would be like the theologians who really understand the inner workings of the Faith. But the production of a magic eye book involves all sorts of people who are responsible for delivering the product to you, yet who don’t necessarily have a scientific expertise. In fact, there may be a few who can’t even see the image. Here’s a test for you: In the life of grace, what’s analogous to the people who deliver the product?

That’s easy. The teaching authority of the Church!

And all who assist these teachers. The Magisterium is the guardian of the Faith, the interpreter of Scripture and Tradition. The Church guarantees that you get the genuine article, grace itself. The Magisteri-um is not an end in itself, but a rather a servant, a guardian.

I remember how my son Nathan and I, upon discovering that there were excellent books filled with magic eye images, were delighted that there were publishers who took it upon themselves to make this phenomenon available. We respected them, not in and of themselves, but in reference to what they made available. I’m sure that there are numerous flawed elements in these publishing houses that we wouldn’t admire. Yet they deliver the genuine article to us.

Likewise, the institutional structure of the Church has its human flaws, but it’s flawless when pointing us to sanctifying grace. Once a sacrament is validly performed, grace is available. We don’t produce grace by our own efforts, any more than we create the magic image.

In speaking of this aspect of the sacraments we say that they work ex opere operato; that is, God has established that He will make His grace available through them. The Protestant reformers thought that the sacraments were used by Catholics as magical devices that manipulated grace, but it’s just the opposite. To believe in the sacraments is to believe that there really is a tremendous power hidden therein, something not created by ourselves, not manipulable by ourselves.

On the other hand, we play a critical role in the sacraments. We must be sure that we place no barrier or impediment in the way; we must be properly disposed. Put otherwise, we must intend what Christ and the Church intend when partaking of the sacraments. Similarly in experiencing the magic eye, we must try not to put any obstacles in the way of our seeing what’s really there.

Furthermore, once we’ve accepted the grace that flows through the sacraments, it’s up to us to allow that grace to bear fruit. The Protestant reformers were absolutely correct on this point — that our faith really matters. Sacramental grace won’t magically make us into perfect Christians with a deep spiritual and virtuous life, any more than the existence of the magic eye image guarantees that we’ll really enjoy dwelling on the image.

We have to cooperate with what’s given to us. That’s why the Church doesn’t want to baptize infants unless there’s a reasonable chance they’ll be raised in the faith. In sum, God’s absolute sovereignty is retained, and our free cooperation is retained. God is God, and we are beings of the highest dignity.

If you could have a book with magic eye images of your own choosing, what images would you go for?

First, the backdrops! I’d have a mix between very pleasant ones and rather dismal ones. For one of the pleasant ones, I’d have lots of little children smiling off the page at me. And for one of the dismal ones, I’d have a forest of dead trees — a wonderful symbol for death to self, and the great dignity that comes with that death.

For the magic images, let’s see . . . For sure I’d have a beautiful golden monstrance. I’ve always thought of the monstrance as a beautiful symbol for what a pure heart, filled with grace, would be like. And with the Host in the center, we’re prompted to think of the sacraments causing and then nourishing that life of grace.

The best magic eyes in the world pale in comparison to that.

Mark Lowery, Ph.D., is an associate professor of moral theology at the University of Dallas. His email address is lowery@acad.udallas.edu.