The Eyes Have It

In the check-out aisle in Target, there is gum for sale with a picture of a famous snowboarder on it. It’s named after him, in fact. I guess it’s supposed to have a snowboard-y flavor. It’s the size of a credit card, and costs less than two dollars, yet the packaging has been designed to attract buyers who wouldn’t otherwise pick up a pack of gum at all. Of course for Stride, this is a great marketing idea and probably a successful way to rake in more sales.

But when I saw this product in the check-out aisle, it wasn’t the gum company I thought about. It was me, the consumer. Why, if I liked Shaun White, would I buy this pack of gum? Surely it can’t taste much different from spearmint or wintermint or peppermint. It doesn’t fit better in a pocket or purse. It’s not cheaper and it’s not likely to gain me any friends, make me any money, secure me any crowns in heaven, or otherwise offer fringe benefits. I conclude, therefore, that buying this gum has everything to do with the image on the front. If I like Shaun White, I want to have something with his face on it in my possession. Even if 12 sticks later, it will just be tossed into the trash like any other gum package.

This conclusion led me to reflect on other image-related choices we make every day. Things like home décor and clothing are obviously sight-based decisions. We buy these things primarily for what they look like. But other decisions, and not just shopping decisions, are less obviously but equally sight-based.

This weekend, I had a friend over for breakfast. This was a perfect opportunity to use the tea party dishes I inherited from my Grammy. They’re white with gold edges and different designs of fruit and leaves are painted on each one. Each plate has a round divot where the tea cup sits. I set the table with these, some glass tumblers for orange juice, and dark plaid cloth napkins. For breakfast, I planned to make buttermilk pancakes which in my head were perfect circles, golden brown on both smooth sides, thick and puffy like a good diner would make. This was wishful thinking. They were lopsided, flattish, crinkled from bad flipping technique, and of varying shades from something you could kindly call gold to something you could most certainly call brown. They were ugly. However, they tasted quite perfect with butter and syrup and a cup of hot coffee. If I closed my eyes they were even diner-perfect.

After breakfast, we worked on some craft projects which will be Christmas presents for our family members. This was most certainly an eye-driven activity and we aimed to make creations that will please our loved ones visually while also serving their function. (No more details or the surprises will be spoiled!) Our vision made these projects possible and our attention to sight-based detail made them beautiful.

Later in the day, I went for a walk and clipped some branches from a big evergreen tree dotted with tiny pinecones. I propped the branches up in vases and bottles and jars around my house and set a Christmas-y mood in just a few minutes.

I say “the eyes have it” because I think if we don’t keep them in check, they really do. More than our other senses, sight is immediate, constant, works from a distance, and is often out of our control. Sight, more than our other senses, is the reason we desire certain things. I wanted pine branches in my home to signify to anyone who comes in that this is a festive place, laced with seasonal spirit and made cozy with personal touches by its thoughtful caretaker. This is not wrong. I wanted my pancakes to look like creamy moons because it would signify my domesticity, my skill with a frying pan, and my ability to make a stellar, diner-quality breakfast. This was slightly more wrong. While buying WhiteMint gum would not have been wrong, buying it for the simple reason of having the name and picture of a celebrity in my purse would have bordered on obsessive.

I caution myself, with these reflections, to be alert for things that merely attract my eyes. I think Jesus meant it when he called the eyes “the lamp of your whole body.” Are my eyes full of light? Or easily drawn to darkness? I hope that I will have the wisdom to shine a clear and revealing light on that which is appealing to my eyes, rather than being a servant to them. May my eyes – and yours – be filled with pleasing things this Christmas season, but always slow to feast greedily on easy pleasure and quick to look more deeply at things deserving more than a cursory glance.