Lent IV, Year A

1 Samuel, 16:1-13
Ephesians, 5:1-14
John, 9:1-13,28-38

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

S. Ignatius Loyola founded the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits, in the middle of the 16th century. The Jesuits were sort of the Church’s marines, the Pope’s shock troops. You don’t think of the Jesuits as being wimpy, not at all, but they were a bit touchy-feelly. Healthy religion does get us in touch with our moods and feelings. Ignatius devised an elaborate course of spiritual exercises. I am by no means an expert, or even much of a practitioner of them, but some of Ignatius’ guidelines have stuck with me over the years, in particular his advice about how to evaluate our inner feelings and moods.1

One of his fundamental points, which seems kind of obvious, is that we can distinguish our creative moods from our destructive moods by their effect. A creative mood increases our faith, hope, and charity; a destructive mood diminishes our faith, hope, and charity. Some moods and feelings, both pleasant and painful, help us have union with God, to follow him, to grow in him; other painful moods draw us away from God and make us smaller.

In the seventeen years I’ve been a Christian, I’ve noticed that usually, though not always, my dealings with Church politics have produced unhealthy moods and feelings pulling me away from God, what Ignatius would call ‘desolation.’ To be clear, when I say, ‘Church politics,’ I do not mean issues at the level of parochial governance, but at the Diocesan, national, and international level. For me, at least, Church politics of this sort, while a unavoidable part of my life, does present real spiritual danger. Church politics tempts me to draw away from Christ and to follow different agendas, often based upon my own fears, prejudices, and preconceptions. Church politics tempts me to narrow my vision, instead of expanding it; to focus on tertiary issues, instead of on trusting God and loving others; to become divisive, instead of unifying; to become bitter, instead of being full of joy.

During the last week of February, the Primates of the Anglican Communion, that is the chief bishop of each national church – England, Scotland, Nigeria, Uganda, Papua New Guinea, Phillippines, etc., met in Ireland, primarily to discuss how to handle the conflict that the American and Canadian churches have provoked about sexuality. They unanimously agreed that the American and Canadian Churches should withdraw from a key Anglican governing body – the Anglican Consultative Council – for three years. Most factions in the Church welcomed this withdrawal, although it’s only a temporary solution to a serious problem.

Most of the Anglican Communion is deeply troubled that a Canadian diocese has adopted rites for blessing same-sex unions and that a non-celibate gay man has become bishop in New Hampshire. These actions have put enormous strain on relations among Anglicans, but tension among Christians is nothing new. Alas, strife among Christians has always been a quality in the life of the Church. There’s contention in the Church from the very beginning, as we read in the Acts of the Apostles. Even during Jesus’ earthly ministry, the disciples had conflicts.

As long as I’ve been in the Church, I’ve been aware of various factions in the Anglican Communion wrestling with one another and making dire predictions. It’s been exhausting and diverting. It hasn’t promoted the gospel, but it has sapped us of energy and purpose. Conflict may indeed be constructive and deepen our relationship with Christ, or it may be full of sanctimony and self-righteousness. So much of the current conflict seems to fall in the latter category.

It’s impossible to know what the implications of this latest development will be for us, if any. Speculation distracts us from the gospel. This parish exists to save souls, to make us better Christians, to share God’s love. That is our focus and our purpose. We will continue to be about that, and this parish will be doing that long after we are all gone. We can not know much else about the future, but I do know that we need not be anxious about it – not at all! Jesus said, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, . . . . Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day. “ (Mt 6:34)

At the Primates’ meeting, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, preached to his colleagues and made this point.2 While proclaiming that Jesus tells us not to be anxious, Archbishop Williams wryly added, “a doomed piece of advice it may be for any Church.” Humor aside, Williams said,

[Jesus] has made peace, and our life rests on what he has done and on nothing else. So our own efforts at peacemaking and witnessing to peace in the world and the Church alike must not be characterized by anxious striving, by desperate activism, by the passion to get it all sorted and all right, now.

In the Bible, again and again we read of God telling us, “Do not be afraid.” The good news is that Jesus has defeated everything there is to fear. That is why Ignatius advises us to recognize and to confront our fears and anxieties – so that we can defeat them, so that they don’t govern us.

Archbishop Williams made two other important points. First, we find peace in our worship together. We all have so much for which to be grateful, and we must focus on that and we must express our gratitude to God together. Praying together is essential for unity. And, second, Williams said, the Church is “a place where God is to be found. That is what the Church exists for and . . . a place where the reality of Christ is alive in our midst.” Williams reminded us of the two meanings of the word ‘sanctuary:’ one, a temple for God, and two, a refuge, an asylum, “a place where those who need a home and have none may find it.” The Church is a place where we may have fellowship and friendship with all people, those with whom we agree and those with whom we disagree.

Archbishop Williams speaks words of consolation, words focusing us on the fundamentals of the gospel: faith, hope, charity. He points us to the gifts God has given us. Being faithful to God, trusting him, is not about worrying and grumbling and plotting to save the Church, as if we were capable of such a thing, as if such a thing were necessary. God promises us that he’s with us until the end of time. Being faithful to God, trusting him, is about celebrating what he’s done for us. Being faithful to God, trusting him, is about loving people, welcoming the stranger with warmth and affection, being kind to those our tiny hearts shun.

S. John is too subtle to have been a stand up comedian, but today’s gospel is full of humor and irony. In the story, other than Jesus, only the blind man sees. It’s a story about the blind man’s growth, from spiritual darkness to seeing the light, from sitting on the sidelines of life to becoming a follower of Christ. Overcoming our infirmities, real healing, comes through faith in Jesus. The story is about conversion, Jesus changing our attitude about life, our understanding of life, our purpose in life.

The story also works on the more obvious level. A great miracle has happened to a blind man. Although physically blind from birth, Jesus heals him. A blind man sees! But other than the blind man, no one in the story expresses any wonder or joy about that. No one celebrates with him. No one gives thanks. No one praises God. Instead, with typical human perversity, the miracle becomes a problem, a point of contention, something to be solved, not celebrated.

God’s act of mercy threatens the Pharisees, the conventionally religious, you and me. Jesus has offended the Pharisees because Jesus, by healing the blind man on the Sabbath, has not properly observed the Sabbath; he has not properly observed religious tradition. The Pharisees cling to a part of their religion so tightly that they miss God’s graciousness, his tender work in the world. Their dedication to their religious tradition instead of helping them to follow God blinds them to God’s healing. Their religious observance is an obstacle to God, not a path to God. Jesus is the light of the world when we have faith in him and in him alone.

One of the ways Lent renews our faith is that it makes us examine how we have placed our faith in things other than Jesus. Lent should also renew in us the truth that our focus should be on our own sin, not on the sin of other people, not on the sin ‘out there.’ Worrying about the sin of others fills us with sin. We become self-righteous and arrogant, and we cut ourselves off from people. We become crippled.

Today’s gospel shows us the wisdom of not judging the sin of others. Jesus asked, “Why do you see the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?” (Mt 7:3) When we are more concerned about the sins of others than about our own sins, we are the most blind of all. The Pharisees speculate about the blind man’s sin and attribute his infirmity to his sin, or to the sin of his parents. Indeed, the Pharisees can quote scripture to support their belief.3 But today’s gospel implies that the blind man’s infirmity, his suffering, is a mystery beyond our capacity to understand. We grow in holiness and character by recognizing the great limitations of our understanding of another’s sin.

The Pharisees are too busy judging others rather than focusing on the light. The Pharisees dismiss Jesus and the blind man as sinners. That way they feel that they won’t have to hear them. The Pharisees are not open to the light because it’s coming from where they don’t expect it – from people they consider sinners. They refuse to be surprised – even by a miracle.

Jesus explains that the blind man’s infirmity is not due to sin, but that God may reveal his power and his love in the blind man. God is most powerful in our weakness. Let’s remember what the Lord told S. Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. [To which Paul replies,] Most gladly will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Cor 12:9-10)

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

1 My source about Ignatian Spirituality is Gerald W. Hughes, God of Surprises, Darton, Longman, and Todd (1985), pp. 92-96.

2 Sermon preached by Rowan Williams at S. Patrick’s Cathedral, Armagh, 22 February 2005.

3 E.g., Exodus 20, although they must have known its incongruence with Ezekiel 18.