The Power of Noticing
The Power of Noticing
Two years ago, on October 25, 2023, the people of Maine were shaken to the core by the tragedy in Lewiston. Eighteen of our brothers and sisters were killed, and thirteen others were wounded when a gunman opened fire at a bowling alley and a local bar. Their names, faces, and stories remain etched into our collective hearts. They were parents, children, friends, members of our deaf community, human beings made in the image of God. Even as time passes, the pain lingers. But so does the call that arises from tragedy: to see one another more clearly.
In recent days, our national attention has again been drawn to questions about life, dignity, and human suffering. On October 23, 2025, the State of Alabama executed by nitrogen gas, a method widely condemned as inhumane and deeply troubling. The man executed, Anthony Boyd, was not a saint. But neither was he beyond the mercy of God. Whenever the state takes a human life, even in the name of justice, the Gospel compels us to look again and to see not simply the crime, but the person. Each life, even a life marred by grave sin, retains an inviolable dignity that no other human being or government can erase.
There are also moments of real grace that pierce the darkness. This past week, in Minneapolis, a young girl named Sophia Forchas, who had been critically wounded in a shooting at her school, Annunciation Catholic School, returned home after fifty-seven days in the hospital. The community prayed, supported her family, and refused to lose hope. Her medical care was extraordinary. Sophia is alive. She has a long road ahead, but her homecoming reminds us that humans have extraordinary God-given power to heal, love never fails, faith sustains hope, and that God works through those who notice and care.
At first glance, these three events, a mass shooting in Maine, an execution in Alabama, and a girl’s recovery in Minnesota, may seem unrelated. Yet they are bound by a commonality: each involves human beings who were seen or unseen, noticed or ignored. Each invites us to reflect on the sacred responsibility of paying attention: truly seeing the person before us as God sees.
The Failure to Notice
In the aftermath of the Lewiston tragedy, many asked the same haunting question: How did we miss the signs? A later commission found that several opportunities to intervene were lost, moments when someone might have noticed the shooter’s unraveling mental state and taken action. We cannot rewrite the past, but we can learn from it.
Our culture moves quickly. We scroll past headlines, rush through conversations, and make judgments without listening. In such haste, people can become invisible to us. The lonely, the elderly, the struggling parent, the confused teenager, it is very possible that each can slip through the cracks when no one is paying attention. Yet as Catholic Christians, we are called to resist the culture of indifference by cultivating the habit of noticing.
Jesus, the One Who Sees
In the Gospels, Jesus never overlooks anyone. His ministry begins not with programs or plans, but with presence; he has a keen sense of seeing those whom others ignore.
In Mark 10:17-22, a rich young man approaches Jesus and asks, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Mark tells us that “Jesus, looking at him, loved him….” That look precedes the invitation: “Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor… then come, follow me.” Jesus perceives that this man is bound not by sin, but by attachment. This rich young man is weighed down by possessions that have become his identity. Christ’s gaze is not condemning but liberating. He sees what imprisons the young man and calls him to freedom.
In Mark 5:25-34, we meet the woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years — isolated, unclean, and ashamed. She approaches Jesus quietly, thinking, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” When she does, power goes forth from him. Jesus could have let her slip away, healed but still hidden. Instead, he stops. He looks around the crowd and asks, “Who has touched my clothes?” He insists on seeing her, calling her “daughter,” and saying, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace….” Jesus restores not only her body but her dignity.
In Luke 19:1-10, Jesus notices Zacchaeus, the tax collector, perched in a sycamore tree. To everyone else, Zacchaeus was a cheat and a collaborator. To Jesus, he was a man searching for something more. “Zacchaeus, come down quickly,” Jesus says, “for today I must stay at your house.” That personal invitation transforms Zacchaeus’s life. He gives half his goods to the poor and repays those he defrauded. All because Jesus stopped, looked, and noticed.
In each encounter, Jesus does not impose an agenda. He begins by seeing and by acknowledging the person before him as beloved of the Father. From that gaze flows healing, conversion, and mission.
The Call to Notice
As followers of Christ, we are invited into that same attentiveness. To notice someone is to say: You exist. You matter. I see you. It is to look beyond appearances, prejudices, and stereotypes.
Noticing others requires patience. It also means setting aside our urge to fix or advise, allowing us to make room for the person’s story. It means letting go of our own assumptions long enough to listen. Often, that is where grace happens. The person who feels seen may find the courage to seek help, to tell the truth, or to take a step toward healing.
Imagine if in our parishes, schools, and families, every person felt genuinely noticed: the elderly parishioner who sits alone to the teenager who hides behind a screen. Such noticing could prevent despair, violence, and isolation. It could renew trust and belonging. It is, in the end, the groundwork for peace.
Seeing as God Sees
To notice is also to recognize our own limitations. We cannot solve every problem or carry every burden, but we can refuse to look away. We can offer presence. We can practice empathy. We can be the eyes, ears, and heart of Christ for others.
When we pray, “Lord, please let me see” (Luke 18:41), we ask not only for personal clarity but also for the vision to behold others with compassion. This seeing changes how we respond to every human life, from the unborn child to the inmate on death row, from the refugee to the neighbor in crisis. It leads us to defend life not as an abstraction but as a relationship.
The people of Lewiston remind us of the necessity to pay attention. Sophia’s recovery reminds us of the grace that flows when a community refuses to give up hope and its vision of the Resurrection. The execution in Alabama challenges us to remember that even those who have committed terrible crimes remain our brothers and sisters in Christ. In each case, the Gospel summons us to a deeper vision, one that perceives Christ himself in the face of every person.
A Final Word
Please continue to pray for the various lives and souls mentioned in this essay. Also, please consider that our world does not need more noise or speed. It needs people who notice. People who stop, look, and love. People who, like Jesus, see others not as interruptions but as revelations of God’s presence. In the face of violence, indifference, and suffering, may we be the ones who see, and by seeing, help to heal the wounds of our time. I suggest we begin or continue this practice within our own families and circles of close friends. The mistake we can be prone to make is to think the need to be noticed is beyond the familiar. However, the greatest need may be under our own roof.
-Bishop James T. Ruggieri
