Now I See

I think a lot of people will agree with what I’m about to say: As I grow older, darkness is not my friend.

Eight or nine years ago, my mother-in-law – who was a whippersnapper in her early 90s at the time, walked down her dark hallway to bed one night, ran into the ironing board she had forgotten was there, fell, and broke her femur bone. The good news is that she recovered and is getting ready to celebrate her 100th birthday in July. The bad news is, well, everything I said above, up to the good news part.

Darkness – and an awareness of what happened to Bill’s mom – is why Bill and I each keep a flashlight within easy reach by our bed so that we can click it on in the event we need to go to the bathroom. And we’re old, so that need arises often.

It’s rare that I fully understand the so-called theme of the scripture readings at the weekend Mass, but even I – as dense as a London fog on – yes – a dark night – understood that the theme this past weekend was light.

The Old Testament reading was the story of how God let his people know that David was his chosen King – the light of the Jewish people. The New Testament reading had the same theme. In his letter to the Ephesians, St. Paul told the folks in Ephesus, “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord……..Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”

But the reading that really hit home was the gospel from St. John in which he tells the story of Christ bringing sight to the man blind since birth. As Jesus spat on the ground to make mud with his saliva, he told the blind man, “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” The man, who had been in the dark his whole life, suddenly could see everything, thanks to Jesus’ miracle. Jesus gave the man light because he IS light.

It made me think about all of the times that I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep because I begin worrying. Sometimes I worry about something specific – a health issue with one of our children or a problem one of our kids or grandkids might be having at work or school. Sometimes it’s more a general sense of doom. And I know you will all agree with me that THINGS LOOK WORSE AT NIGHT. I have literally spent hours worrying about something in the darkness, and when the sun rises, I think, “Really? I was so worried about that? It’s no big thing, really.”

Court and Kaiya enjoy the warmth and light of a fire at a family gathering.

St. John goes on to tell us that, upon the man suddenly being able to see, the Jews were beside themselves. They told the man that only God can perform miracles, and asked him how this mere mortal could make him see. Over and over again, the man told them he didn’t have a clue how it happened, but all he knew was that he had been blind from birth and now he could see. Maybe this mere mortal shouldn’t have been able to bring him sight, but he had. Because (say it with him) I was blind and now I see. Don’t get it. Can’t explain it. But there you have it. I couldn’t see. The dude rubbed mud in my eye and now I can see.

Just like the Jews, I always want answers to my questions. Why does Bill have Parkinson’s? Why does someone drive a car onto a bridge and kill people? Why do bad things happen to good people? It’s easy to blame things on God, just like the disciples at the beginning of the gospel when they asked Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Sin wasn’t the reason for the blindness, Jesus explained to them. Good would come from the blindness. And that reminds me that no matter how dark things get, Jesus will always bring light to me if I believe and pray. Because Paul reminds us that Christ promised that he would give us light. So in the same way that our problems seem to diminish in the daylight, Jesus, who is light, will bring us strength when we accept that he is our light.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Forgiveness

davidcap-blogSpanI always think that when priests and/or other homilists see that the readings from the upcoming Mass include St. Paul’s instruction to women that they should be submissive to their husbands, they must simply groan. Because no matter how the homilist couches St. Paul’s words, it doesn’t lessen the blow to the wives sitting in the congregation. Yes, while it’s true that the words following his suggestion of submission instruct the husband to love his wife, it always seems like the words not added are ….even if they aren’t submitting to you like they are supposed to. Oh, Paul.

On the other hand, priests and/or deacons must have felt like they got a soft pitch when they saw the readings for Sunday’s Mass. God’s abundant love and never-ending forgiveness? Su-weeeeeeet.

Being the brilliant biblical scholar that I am, I must admit that I always get a bit tired of hearing about David, God’s chosen king of the Jews. Such a goody-goody. He could defeat a giant with a mere slingshot and write poetry and play a mean lyre afterwards. He was the Israelites’ favorite and he was God’s favorite.

So I must admit that I am always kind of glad to hear the story of Bathsheba, when David really, really screwed up. I always like a good Walks-On-Water-Guy-Goes-Bad story. Plus, since slaying a giant with a rock seems like such an unobtainable goal, it’s kind of nice to see that David can sin with the best of us. He broke a handful of God’s Ten Commandments in one fell swoop.

In the Second Book of Samuel (part of which was our first reading at Mass), the prophet Nathan assured David that despite his grave sin, God forgave him. But before he assured David that he was forgiven, he told him the parable of the rich guy who had everything, but nevertheless chose to steal the lamb from the poor man who had nothing else in order to feed a visitor. And what does David say? Why, the nerve of that selfish man! And then Nathan tells him, “David, YOU are this man.”

Oops. Who, me? Gulp.

And our gospel reading from St. Luke was the story of Jesus having dinner with the Pharisee only to be interrupted by the woman known far and wide to be a sinner. She has the nerve – the NERVE I tell you – to wash Jesus’ feet with her tears and dry them with her hair. When his host questions Jesus’ willingness to be in the company of a sinner, Jesus asks him a question which is so reminiscent of Nathan’s parable – who would be more grateful to have a debt forgiven, someone who owed 500 days’ wages or someone who owed 50 days’ wages.

The answer is simple, of course. The man who owes more.

God’s love for us is endless and he forgives us, no matter how badly we sin. That’s the truth that both David and the sinning woman knew. They were forgiven. And that’s good news for sinners like me.

God only asks one thing in return – that we forgive others, just as he forgives us. This message of forgiveness is so beautiful that the homilies must write themselves!

This post linked to the GRAND Social