The rose vestments of this Fourth Sunday of Lent are meant to remind us to rejoice, because "it's beginning to look at lot like Easter"...but the very wintry weather this morning had us singing a slightly different tune around here.
Fourth Sunday of Lent A
I
got glasses when I was in the fourth grade.
I
had been told for a long time,
“Don’t
sit so close to the TV! You’ll
ruin your eyes!”
But
I was only sitting so close
because
otherwise everything was just a blur.
The
eye doctor diagnosed me as nearsighted:
not
able to clearly see things at a distance.
I
distinctly remember the drive home
from
picking up my new glasses:
looking
out the car windows
at
sights I’d passed hundreds and hundreds of times,
but
which I had never seen before.
This
Sunday’s gospel revolves
around
the healing of a man born blind…
…but
he’s not the only one in the story who’s visually impaired.
There
are the Pharisees who clearly have a case of tunnel vision:
their
self-righteousness and their preconceived notions
about
who God is and how God operates
prevent
them from recognizing the Lord
when
he’s at work right before their eyes.
And
Jesus’ own disciples, too, have some trouble seeing:
they’re nearsighted:
wanting
to identify the man’s blindness as a divine punishment;
all
they can see is the man’s immediate problem,
and
not the possibilities of what God might accomplish.
Why is God punishing us?
No
doubt, a few folks are asking that very question
as
they wake up to yet another snowy morning!
It’s
pretty normal for us to look at things
from
such a cause-and-effect perspective—
and
we do it with things much more serious
than
a late winter storm:
Why did she get cancer? Why did I lose my job?
Why did our marriage fall
apart?
When
bad things happen,
we
search for someone or something to blame.
Jesus
tries to change this kind of thinking among his disciples.
That’s
not to say, of course,
that
we don’t need to take responsibility for our actions.
But
when challenges arise, when a crisis must be faced,
why
start pointing fingers, finding fault,
and
pouting, “Why me?”
Jesus
wants to cure us of such nearsightedness.
He
wants us see such moments as graced opportunities:
moments
not for laying blame,
but
for spotting new possibilities;
Faith
in Christ ought to expand our vision
and
change our perception of things.
That
doesn’t mean that faith is a pair of rose-colored glasses,
which
help us avoid looking at
the
very real hardship, struggle, and pain
which
are part of our lives.
No,
faith is more like x-ray goggles:
it
helps us to see right through tough times out to the other side,
where
God can do unexpected and astonishing things—
not
to mention walking beside us every step of the way.
One
area where many Catholics
ought
to try this hope-filled way of seeing
is
when it comes to confession.
Most
Catholics look at the Sacrament of Penance
and
can see only a torture chamber,
filled
with guilt, embarrassment, and shame.
What
a pity!
Because
if we were able to take the long view,
if
we allowed Jesus to heal us of our short-sightedness,
then
we could see confession from God’s perspective:
not
as a means to dwell glaringly on the dark moments of our past,
but
as an invitation to walk with Christ from now on
as
a child of the light.
Lately, Pope
Francis has repeatedly been urging Catholics
to
return to this sacrament of God’s healing mercy—
and not merely by his impassioned words.
and not merely by his impassioned words.
He’s
said before that he confesses about twice a month,
but on
Friday, on his way to hear a few confessions,
the Pope himself stopped at an ordinary confessional
right
in the middle St. Peter’s Basilica:
the
first Pope in modern history
to
be seen publically receiving the sacrament.
(Imagine what was going through the mind
of that unsuspecting priest!)
(Imagine what was going through the mind
of that unsuspecting priest!)
Inserted
in this Sunday’s bulletin,
you’ll
find a message from Pope Francis,
a
detailed examination of conscience,
and
other helpful hints on going to confession.
A
week from tomorrow,
we’ll
be hosting a regional Penance Service for Lent.
Give
it some real thought and prayer.
Allow
the Lord to cure your nearsightedness,
and
see this sacrament not as a matter
of harsh judgment and condemnation
of harsh judgment and condemnation
to
be feared and avoided,
but
an opportunity for a fresh start given by God,
who
wants to embrace you with his tender love.
We’re
all visually impaired, in one way or another.
Which
means that there are many amazing possibilities
we
simply fail to see.
Jesus
cured the man born blind;
he
can certainly cure you and me.
Lord,
open our eyes!
Help us to see!
Help us to see!
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