In the classic 1984 film rendition of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, starring George C. Scott, the Ghost of Christmas Past rebukes Ebenezer Scrooge for his failure to give careful attention to the world around him. She points out how Scrooge’s nephew looks so much like his mother, Scrooge’s sister. Scrooge replies, “Does he? I never noticed.” The Ghost responds with chastisement but compassion, “You never noticed? I think you’ve gone through life with your eyes closed. Open them. Open them wide.”

I think many of us go through life with our eyes closed. We are like the father in another cinematic masterpiece, Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life, who confesses: “I wanted to be loved because I’m great, a big man. I’m nothing. Look: the glory around us, the trees, the birds. I lived in shame. I dishonored it all and didn’t notice the glory. A foolish man.” I can sometimes justify myself by claiming, “Well, I’m just not a very observant person,” which my wife can attest is often true! But a failure to attend to reality is not just a character trait; it’s a vice. It’s folly. It’s a failure to live in prudence, a virtue that entails docility (docilitas, aptness to learn), a disposition of “open-mindedness which recognizes the true variety of things and situations to be experienced and does not cage itself in any presumption” of self-deception. Docility requires “the ability to take advice,” “a desire for real understanding,” and “genuine humility” (Josef Pieper, The Four Cardinal Virtues, p. 16). Virtue demands that we open our eyes wide and “notice the glory.”

In his excellent new book, Ross Inman suggests that a Christian approach to philosophy is an invitation to wonder. He writes that wonder is “a window through which we can see reality in its proper light; what is genuinely good, true, and beautiful–and subsequently worth pursuing–tends to evoke wonder.” And as Ross demonstrates, philosophy is not the exclusive preserve of tweed-jacketed academics. We are all invited to take on the philosopher’s mantle, as we seek to live in light of the truth and to pursue the good life. Wonder is not just about contemplating weighty metaphysical or epistemological questions (though it includes those, as well). It’s not even just about transcendent moments of rapture, say, at the expanse of the Pacific Ocean or the sheer granite walls of Yosemite Valley. It’s also about simply noticing the glory all around us: the wrinkles and flaws on the face in the mirror, the movements and shouts of children playing the yard, the music of the morning songbirds, the rustling of the water oak leaves under our feet, the smiles and grimaces of the faces we meet, the pleasures and pains of mundane human existence.

Christian spiritual masters have long recognized that the objects of meditation include, not only the truths of Scripture, but also the glories of the creation around us and the depths of meaning within us. The better part of communion with God is learning to open our eyes to awe: to the glory all around us in creation, to the beauty and dignity of the people right in front of us, to the sacred truths of Holy Scripture, to the presence of God within us, and to the being and attributes of God himself. So, open your eyes, friends. Open them wide.