Fourth Sunday of Lent

A remarkable story.  We can forget that the gospel story has to become our story.  The gospel tells our own human and Christian story.  And so I suggest that we move the gospel to 2015.  On a broad canvas, where do we find blindness today?    Our world, our country, our church.  Not everybody, not always.  Still, a frightening amount of blindness, across a vast stretch of territory.

Our world.  I see blindness in a world where human beings, children of one God, brutalize one another with hate in their hearts.  I see blindness in the Middle East, where peace is so elusive because hatred is etched into history.  I see blindness in areas of Africa, where war knows no innocents, no mercy, where women are raped and children slaughtered.  I see blindness in a world where 16 million refugees are forced by war or persecution to flee their native lands, where 25 million more are forced from their homes to walk to unfamiliar resting places.  I see blindness in a world where over 250 million children have to work, many at risk from dangerous and exploitative labor.

Our country.  I see blindness in a country where our black sisters and brothers still find little to entice them; where Americans claim to love their children and yet 1.5 million defenseless infants are aborted each year; where we constitute four percent of the world’s population but consume 40 percent of its resources; where the poorer you are the poorer you become; where we kill the killers to show that killing is wrong.

Our church.  I see blindness in a church where only 30 percent of Catholics go to Mass at least twice a month; where all too often liturgy is lifeless, and Catholics leave us for more vibrant preaching; where Hispanics often feel unwelcome; where priesthood is no longer attractive; where we are losing our young people in heartbreaking numbers; where our dissensions hinder our mission, keep us from spreading the gospel outside our walls; where rugged individualism and consumerism are just as rampant as in the rest of society.

One-sided?  Of course.  Is there another side?  Yes indeed.  But it doesn’t cancel out the dark side; it’s there, far more darkness than any homily can narrate.  Is there a remedy?  The ultimate antidote lies in today’s gospel.

Listen to Jesus once more: “We must work the works of God who sent me while it is day.  As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”  The lesson taught by the story?  The triumph of light over darkness.  Jesus is light.  This is the light that shattered the darkness.  Revelation calls for a response.  If Jesus speaks to us, it is our task to answer, “I believe, Lord; help my unbelief.”  If the first light is revelation, the corresponding light is faith.

And faith is indeed a light.  With it I can see in a small white wafer, not lifeless bread but the Bread of Life.  With it I can see God in the water that bathes a catechumen, in the oil that anoints an elderly person’s hands, in the hand of a priest upraised to forgive and in the self-giving of a bride and groom.  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said to all who claim to follow him: “You are the light of the world.  Let your light shine before women and men.”

How can we be light in darkness?  The church asks us at this stage in Lent.  Where is yourdarkness?  Where don’t you see with the eyes of Christ?  I leave that scrutiny to you.  Focus on one area where your light is indispensable.  Where you can bring the light of Christ to our church, to our country, perhaps even to our world.

So do we as individuals, we as community, become light.  Our light is a gift from God.  And it is God who spreads our light to the church, to our country, to our world.  The light is Christ – Christ at work in all of us.

Paul A. Magnano

Pastor