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The Magic Eyes: A Parable of Forgiveness

2009 October 20
by Mike

From Lewis Smedes’ amazing little book, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve :

THE MAGIC EYES – A Little Fable

In the village of Faken in innermost Friesland there lived a long thin baker named Fouke, a righteous man, with a long thin chin and a long thin nose. Fouke was so upright that he seemed to spray righteousness from his thin lips over everyone who came near him; so the people of Faken preferred to stay away.

Fouke’s wife, Hilda, was short and round, her arms were round, her bosom was round, her rump was round. Hilda did not keep people at bay with righteousness; her soft roundness seemed to invite them instead to come close to her in order to share the warm cheer of her open heart. Hilda respected her righteous husband, and loved him too, as much as he allowed her; but her heart ached for something more from him than his worthy righteousness.

And there, in the bed of her need, lay the seed of sadness.

One morning, having worked since dawn to knead his dough for the ovens, Fouke came home and found a stranger in his bedroom lying on Hilda’s round bosom.

Hilda’s adultery soon became the talk of the tavern and the scandal of the Faken congregation. Everyone assumed that Fouke would cast Hilda out of his house, so righteous was he. But he surprised everyone by keeping Hilda as his wife, saying he forgave her as the Good Book said he should.

In his heart of hearts, however, Fouke could not forgive Hilda for bringing shame to his name. Whenever he thought about her, his feelings toward her were angry and hard; he despised her as if she were a common whore. When it came right down to it, he hated her for betraying him after he had been so good and so faithful a husband to her.

He only pretended to forgive Hilda so that he could punish her with his righteous mercy.

But Fouke’s fakery did not sit well in heaven.

So each time that Fouke would feel his secret hated toward Hilda, an angel came to him and dropped a small pebble, hardly the size of a shirt button, into Fouke’s heart. Each time a pebble dropped, Fouke would feel a stab of pain like the pain he felt the moment he came on Hilda feeding her hungry heart from a stranger’s larder.

Thus he hated her the more; his hate brought him pain and his pain made him hate.

The pebbles multiplied. And Fouke’s heart grew very heavy with the weight of them, so heavy that the top half of his body bent forward so far that he had to strain his neck upward in order to see straight ahead. Weary with hurt, Fouke began to wish he were dead.

The angel who dropped the pebbles into his heart came to Fouke one night and told him how he could be healed of his hurt.

There was one remedy, he said, only one, for the hurt of a wounded heart. Fouke would need the miracle of the magic eyes. He would need eyes that could look back to the beginning of his hurt and see his Hilda, not as a wife who betrayed him, but as a weak woman who needed him. Only a new way of looking at things through the magic eyes could heal the hurt flowing from the wounds of yesterday.

Fouke protested. “Nothing can change the past,” he said. “Hilda is guilty, a fact that not even an angel can change.”

“Yes, poor hurting man, you are right,” the angel said. “You cannot change the past, you can only heal the hurt that comes to you from the past. And you can heal it only with the vision of the magic eyes.”

“And how can I get your magic eyes?” pouted Fouke.

“Only ask, desiring as you ask, and they will be given you. And each time you see Hilda through your new eyes, one pebble will be lifted from your aching heart.”

Fouke could not ask at once, for he had grown to love his hatred. But the pain of his heart finally drove him to want and to ask for the magic eyes that the angel had promised. So he asked. And the angel gave.

Soon Hilda began to change in front of Fouke’s eyes, wonderfully and mysteriously. He began to see her as a needy woman who loved him instead of a wicked woman who betrayed him.

The angel kept his promise; he lifted the pebbles from Fouke’s heart, one by one, though it took a long time to take them all away. Fouke gradually felt his heart grow lighter; he began to walk straight again, and somehow his nose and his chin seemed less thin and sharp than before. He invited Hilda to come into his heart again, and she came, and together they began again a journey into their second season of humble joy.

6 Responses leave one →
  1. Rod permalink
    October 20, 2009

    “So that he could punish her with his righteous mercy.” That is a strong image. Not all “mercy” comes from a merciful place. True forgiveness has to come from a humble heart that recognizes one’s own brokenness.

  2. Kathy permalink
    October 20, 2009

    Or as the expression Wade shared with us Sunday – grinding grace. Hurtful oxymorons are both these concepts.

  3. Betty L permalink
    October 20, 2009

    Jeepers Creepers–
    Fouke needs to take those magic “peepers” straight to a mirror!! If he has to view Helga as a “weak woman” in order to forgive he has minimized her as a person and is still not seeing her in all of her splended roundness.

  4. October 22, 2009

    Some good images. But the story isn’t nearly as radical as it needs to be. Why? Because it portrays a man who contributed to the hurt he now refuses to forgive. In a case like that, I suppose that a good psycho-therapist might be able to provide the magic eyes.

    It’s not the case that, in the end, every victim sort of had it comin’. When innocence is despised and mistreated, that’s when we need a gift from heaven.

  5. October 26, 2009

    I have always loved this story since I first read it back in the mid 80′s. The key line for me was and is, “…for he had grown to love his hatred.”

  6. Gary Johnson permalink
    May 19, 2011

    To Frank’s comment: Every victim sort of had it coming??? Really??? My wife betrayed me in an affair, if you’re unhappy with your marriage, and you don’t have what it takes to look for help for youself, then pack your bag and leave the marriage. An affair DOES NOTHING to solve a marriage issue. In my wife’s case, “perception became reality”. When you sit around and tell yourself how bad it is everyday, rather than do something about it, you actually beging to believe it.

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