This will end in God's glory

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year A

There is something about the popularity of the special genre of zombie or ghost movies which shows not only Hollywood’s, but that of the common man’s fascination with death and what happens after death. We live in a world preoccupied with death; from the morbid images of the zombie genre films, to death metal music, to the oppressive occult practices, to our youth counter-culture, to the older generations preoccupation with preserving life … people are obsessed with death in fearful and hopeless ways.

Death is portrayed quite differently in Scripture. Psalm 116:15 says precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. Paul considered death his reward and inheritance. And in John 11 Jesus said, “Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad I was not there because now you will believe.” How can this be? Our Lord loved Lazarus; He wept at his grave, yet He is glad? Can death possibly be a cause of rejoicing? As Christians we do not fear death; we may be sad that we will no longer see the ones we love, at least on this side of the grave, but the “sting of death” has been removed because of the resurrection of Christ, and we know that one day we will all exchange this mortal body for one of immortality.

Our Lord told His disciples that Lazarus was “resting” or “sleeping” and that He was going to “wake” him. For the disciples who remained unenlightened before the Lord’s resurrection, they thought that Jesus was referring to Lazarus having a snooze. Little did they realise that He was speaking of death and the resurrection. In Christ, physical death is merely a shadow as we quietly pass from one life into the next. Death is never final; it is always followed by life. Because He experienced separation from God on the cross, we will never be separated from Him.

Just imagine that scene in today’s gospel. It’s like something out of a zombie apocalypse. It’s not like a fairy-tale kiss bringing a sleeping beauty to life. Lazarus’s dead body had been in the tomb for four days. In the warm climate of the eastern Mediterranean, the dead body would rot and stink. Martha explicitly expressed concern about the stench of Lazarus’s body, what more the decomposition that would have begun to set in. Jesus was unconcerned. As He instructed them to remove the stone that sealed the tomb of Lazarus, the family members of Lazarus and on-lookers would have been appalled by such a morbid request and thought of desecrating the body of a dead man.

Just like what we heard in last week’s gospel, we see in this week’s instalment a spectrum of different responses – this week to the theme of “death”. The disciples tried to dissuade our Lord from going personally to Bethany which is close to Jerusalem because they feared death for Him and for themselves. We have Martha and Mary who had earlier appealed to our Lord to come and heal their brother because they believe that He could postpone death with a miracle. Now, that Lazarus is dead, they saw no need of His presence. His presence now was too little too late! Then we have Mary incapacitated by her tremendous grief because she believed death was the end of the road for her brother. And finally, we have Martha who believed in the resurrection of the dead, but only saw it as a future and ethereal reality that will take place at the end of time. Only our Lord, who feared neither death nor saw it as the end of life, could receive the news of His friend’s death and be gladdened because as He told His own disciples: “this sickness will end not in death but in God’s glory, and through it the Son of God will be glorified.” His vision of death must be ours too.

How can Lazarus’ death bring glory to God and to Jesus? The resuscitation of Lazarus was a prophecy in the form of an action. It foreshadows Christ’s own resurrection, and at the same time anticipates the resurrection of all the righteous. Lazarus’ death and subsequent resuscitation will show that God and Christ has power over death, man’s most ancient enemy – an enemy which we thought to be inevitable and undefeatable … at least until now.

So, the story of Lazarus is to be read not just as another miracle of our Lord, demonstrating His extraordinary power, but also a story of hope for all of us - a hope which does not lie in finding an answer to the mystery of suffering, a hope that is not grounded in a final solution to life’s troubles, but a shining hope in the life of the resurrection - a rebirth - of how even the dead, the seemingly lost can be called forth, they can be liberated once and for all from the bindings of sin, desperation and grief, and be finally set free to live not just a dream, but the reality of immortality, never to suffer pain or death again.

Let’s be honest. We human beings can handle many things that confront us in life, but on our own we will never be able to do much about death. We can accept death and resign ourselves to its inevitability, but we don’t have the power to overcome it. In battling death on our own, even with the help of family, friends and doctors, we will always emerge the loser. But the good news is that there is someone who has overcome death. There is someone who can ensure our victory. Our Lord has overcome death because only God can do so. By swapping places with Lazarus, our Lord offered life to the whole world through His own death and resurrection. Death will still come in unimagined ways, but none of them are the kind of death that separates us from God. Physical death is robbed of its power because in Christ there is life on both sides of the grave.

This is the Good News we hear today. This is the Good News our elect must hear today. Jesus is the resurrection and the life, the source of Eternal Life, not just on the last day, but this very day, in this very place- so let us echo the faith-filled words of Martha as we tell Him: “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.” Let us go forth to live as those for whom death has been past ever since the day of our baptism so that living or dying, our lives are in Christ.

Which class do you belong to?

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A

I once came across an article which featured a letter from a distraught Singaporean mother addressed to the Central Provident Fund (CPF), Singapore’s equivalent of our Employees Provident Fund. I was once told anecdotally, “what goes in, seldom comes out!” Her request to withdraw S$70,000 to fund her family’s living expenses and treatment for her mentally ill son was rejected. In response to their decision, she wrote a lengthy letter which went viral. What caught my attention was this insightful paragraph: “There are three classes of people in society. One, those who can see. Two, those who can see when shown and Three, those who cannot see even when shown. Which class do you belong to?”

“Which class do you belong to?” A good question to begin our reflexion for today’s gospel. At the beginning of the story, everyone claims to be able to see except the man born blind. But as the story unfolds, we would soon discover that almost all the characters, with the exception of our Lord, suffers from some blindness or other. In John’s gospel, seeing is synonymous with believing. Our Lord uses physical sight as a metaphor for something of even greater importance, spiritual sight, to see with the eyes of faith.

First, we have the disciples of the Lord. They have been the privileged recipients of the mysteries of the Kingdom and witnessed first-hand the Lord’s miracles. They, like so many others, truly believe that they can “see.” It is with this presumed sight that they pose what appears to be a clever theological question with regards to the disability of the man born blind, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, for him to have been born blind?” Addressing the Lord as “Rabbi” is the first evidence of their blindness. The blind man’s sight at the end of the gospel is so much more penetrating. The disciples also presumed that since the man has suffered such a fate, it must be on account of some sin, either his or that of his parents. It is assumed that people reap what they sow; that ‘bad luck’ is a result of ‘bad karma’; wicked folks get what is coming to them. Our Lord corrects them: “Your assumptions are flawed.” “He was born blind so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

The next group are his neighbours and people who knew him as a blind beggar. The sight of the blind man being able to see should have inspired awe at seeing the wonders of God, but instead what arose was incredulity. Then we have the man’s own parents who are summoned as witnesses. They recognise their son and they also recognise the amazing transformation, if not miracle, that has taken place – their son born blind, can now see. And yet, they refuse to acknowledge this out of fear of being implicated in this escalating controversy.

Finally, we have the Jews and the Pharisees who were scandalised by the fact that the Lord had performed a miracle on a Sabbath, in violation of their ritual prohibitions. They have heard the testimonies of the blind man, his neighbours and family members, but still refuse to “see”. They’d rather believe their biased opinion of Jesus than what their “lying eyes” are revealing to them. The story culminates in this parting shot of the Lord aimed at the Pharisees: “Blind? If you were, you would not be guilty, but since you say, “We see”, your guilt remains.”

Yes, all these characters claim to be able to see, but can they really? For our Lord, the real question is whether the lack of seeing is voluntary or involuntary. While the blind man couldn’t help being blind, the others, who could have seen, deliberately chose to be blind. Therefore, their guilt remains. At the heart of this fascinating narrative is a simple but powerful contrast: the man who is blind from birth who sees nothing, but upon encountering the healing Saviour, the Light of the World, sees clearly. On the other hand, the other characters who all claim to be able to see clearly, but at the end of the story expose themselves to be truly blind. They deliberately chose not to see. That is the tragedy!

So, the only character that finally sees, is ironically the man born blind. The gift of sight eventually leads him along a journey of discovery, a path that will lead to a deepened faith. It takes a while before he completely comes to believe. Initially, he obeys without understanding. In the beginning he thinks of Jesus as merely a “man” among others, then when he is questioned, he speaks of the Lord as being a “prophet” and finally, his eyes are opened and he proclaims Him “Lord” and falls down in worship. From hopeless darkness he grows into the purest light of faith, entirely through the power of a gift of grace he never asked for; a faith whose logic he follows obediently; a faith that, like a mustard seed, grows in him until it becomes a huge tree. I believe his story resonates with the personal experiences of our Elect.

The story of the Blind Man is our story. Saint Augustine, commenting on the spiritual sense or meaning of the man’s blindness, simply stated, “This blind man is the human race.” This state of blindness is the Original Sin which we have inherited from our father Adam. And we continue to remain in the state of blindness whenever we choose to sin. My dear Elect, this is what that will happen to you at your Baptism: the washing in the waters of Baptism will remove the stain of Original Sin which spiritually blinds you and gives you new sight to see with faith.

Today, it’s good to be reminded by St Paul that: “You were in darkness once, but now you are light in the Lord; be like children of light, for the effects of the light are seen in complete goodness and right living and truth.” Being children of light is a journey. This is your journey. This is our journey, moving in stages to more perfectly know Jesus, to love Him and serve Him. We admit that our vision remains blurred because of sin. In order that our vision may be restored and made clearer, we need to constantly wash it, not in the Pool of Siloam but in the confessional, receiving the healing grace of reconciliation through the Sacrament of Penance. We know that as we persevere, one day we will see our Lord face to face.

Handing down the faith

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

A good story or message deserves more than a single telling. St Luke recognises that others have beaten him to write “accounts of the events that have taken place,” specifically accounts surrounding the life and ministry of the Lord and that of the Church and her early mission. But these other accounts have not deterred him from writing a fresh account, not a fictional make-believe story, but one based on real events and real persons, stories and sayings handed down “by those who from the outset were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word.” He specifically addresses this account to Theophilus for an expressed reason, so that Theophilus “may learn how well founded the teaching is that [he has] received.” Some people may find it strange and even offensive that we are reading a private message from one person to another. But Theophilus, which means “lover of God,” could be a pseudonym addressed to every Christian. For is not every Christian meant to be a “lover of God”?

It is interesting that St Luke uses the Greek word “paredosan,” which comes from the root “paradosis” which is translated here as “handed down.” This is essentially what “tradition” is about - the handing down of the sayings and deeds of the Lord through the witness of the Apostles. Though hand-me-downs are often considered a humiliating badge of poverty, for Catholics the Sacred Tradition that has been faithfully handed down from the Apostles to our present age, are anything but a sign of our impoverishment. In fact, Sacred Tradition together with Sacred Scripture are the greatest treasures of our Church, treasures to be valued, flaunted and displayed for the world to see.

Again, another Greek word that is lost in translation when rendered in English is a word familiar to many of us - “Katechetes” - translated here simply as “teaching.” Sounds familiar? It should – we have the English word “catechesis.” And immediately the gospel takes a leap from the first chapter to the fourth chapter and presents our Lord as the Teacher par excellence. And what is interesting is that the example cited by St Luke is not some innovative new teaching, but our Lord reading from the scroll of the Book of Isaiah. Many would find it ironic that the Eternal Logos, the Word made Flesh, could have chosen to speak on any topic, and teaching something fresh, but instead He delves into the depths of the Old Testament and shows us that His revelation is in continuation to what has already been revealed to, and through the prophets. At the end of the reading, the Lord tells His audience that the text is being fulfilled even as they are listening to Him because He is the One whom the prophecy is pointing to.

For this reason, the first and most important thing that we must remember about handing on the faith is this: everything begins and ends with Jesus Christ. He is the source, the fulfilment and the ultimate climax of revelation, and by extension, of all catecheses. For us Catholics, the Word of God is not just a book to be kept on the shelf nor a text to be merely studied. The Word of God is first and foremost a person - Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh. Pope Francis said, “Christian doctrine is . . . living, is able to unsettle, is able to enliven. It has a face that is supple, a body that moves and develops, flesh that is tender: Christian doctrine is called Jesus Christ.”

For this reason, we cannot and we should not claim to be People of the Book but People of the Living Word of God. We do not worship a book. We worship the One who is the source of divine revelation, the record of which is found in a book we call the Bible but also preserved in the oral tradition of the Church. No one can really claim that they understand the nature of catechesis without realising that its form, its content, and its ultimate goal is Jesus Christ.

The word catechesis, in Greek—katékhéo—comes from the two words kata-ekheo. But kata-ekheo means to “echo down” or, you might say, to “echo precisely.” St. Paul and St. Luke used this word (see, e.g., Lk 1:4 and 1 Cor 14:19) to explain what we are doing when we teach the Christian faith. They are telling us that a catechist and his teaching are supposed to be an echo, a precise echo, of what has been given for instruction. If we are only an echo, then the original voice is someone else’s. The voice of the Master is supposed to resound in our teaching.

This is so humbling for a teacher of the faith. I constantly have to tell myself, “I’m not the real teacher here. Jesus is,” and I have to let the words of John the Baptist be a mantra on my lips: “He must increase. I must decrease” (Jn 3:30). Some of the great thinkers of the patristic era, like Augustine, took this so seriously that they claimed we could not learn anything, except through the illumination of our minds by the light of Christ. But what we can say for sure is that, in catechesis, we are attempting to communicate something that surpasses what the human mind could know by its own efforts. And, if that is the case, then we should take Jesus seriously when He says, “You have One Teacher,” (Mt 23:8), and we should make His words our own when He claims, “My teaching is not mine but his who sent me” (Jn 7:16).

In the 4th century, St John Chrysostom, reflected upon this echoing nature of teaching the faith, wrote that this teaching is not just an echo of the Master, but this teaching is supposed to resound within the heart of our hearers, so much so, that you can see it bear fruit in their lives. St. John Paul II, puts it like this: “Catechesis takes the seed of faith sown by evangelisation and nourishes it so that the “whole of a person’s humanity is impregnated by that word”; it continues to nourish that seed until Christ is born again in that person’s flesh, that he or she might learn to “think like Him, to judge like Him, to act in conformity with His commandments”.” So, my dear parents, catechists and RCIA facilitators, always remember that your job is to echo our Lord. Our Catholic faith is one of imitation, not of innovation - we are called to imitate the Lord in word and deed, not to replace Him with our own ideas, words or deeds. Let Him be the Teacher, the content, and the end of your labours. Catechesis will always begin and end with Him, and He will be the entire way through.

Finally, catechesis is impossible without the Church, without the community. The second reading tells us that though there may be a variety of gifts and ministries, there is only one Body. That is why in today’s Mass we celebrate the commissioning of our catechists - parents, Sunday School teachers and RCIA facilitators - within the context of the Church - the Church carrying on the mission of Christ, sends out disciples who seek to make disciples of others.

Think of this: the task of a catechist is an impossible one, when left to our own powers. We are powerless to convert hearts, and to make the Word of God grow inside of people. We can only plant and water, but He must give the increase (1 Cor 3:6). Conversion is the work of the Holy Spirit. Unless we are anointed and commissioned by the Lord through His Church, our work will be in vain. This should drive us to constantly come back to the only place where we can find refuge and solace for such an arduous task: Holy Mother Church and her bridegroom, the Blessed Lord Jesus Christ.

Ephphatha!

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year B

Being a deaf and mute person would have been a double handicap in any ordinary society. Much of social interaction and communication and in fact all aspects of life, education, work, entertainment, religious worship, heavily depend on one’s ability to hear and speak. Technology, sign language skills and interpreters may help mitigate some of the obstacles to communication, but it is clear that in a normal hearing and speaking society, the deaf and the mute are grossly disadvantaged.

In today’s passage, we have this man who was both deaf and had a speech impediment. He was not just cut off from the rest of society by his inability to communicate, but would have also been considered an outcast in the highly ritualistic and auditory Jewish community. The most fundamental commandment incorporated into the daily prayers of a Jew begins with these words, “Shema, O Israel” or “Hear O Israel” (Deut 6:4-5), but for a deaf person, these words would have made no sense whatsoever as he is unable to heed the call to listen to God. The rite of passage for a child as he passes into adulthood would be determined by his ability to read the Torah and proclaim it in the community thus qualifying him to be called “Bar Mitzvah” or a “Son of the Law/ Commandments” but once again, a mute person would have to remain perpetually infantilised as he is unable to read and proclaim the words of the Torah.

But wait – I forgot to mention that this deaf and mute man hails from the Gentile territory of the Decapolis, so it is likely that he is a Gentile and not a Jew. His disabilities not only accentuate his marginalised position but is also symbolic of it. Like this deaf man, the Gentiles too are disqualified from being “Sons of the Law”.

You may recall that this is not our Lord’s first recorded excursion to this Gentile territory. The last time He had visited the area, it didn’t go well. He had healed the Gerasene demoniac and the reception He received was entirely different from the one He was experiencing now. What should have been a show of victory on His part, turned out to be a disaster. Instead of impressing the local population, they chased Him out of the area. We can only speculate their reason for doing so: perhaps due to the financial loss of losing an entire herd of swine or that our Lord’s action had disrupted the status quo which they had grown accustomed too. But there is a flicker of hope in that story. Our Lord did something which He had never done before when healing others on Jewish territory. He commissioned the liberated former demoniac to be His emissary, His first Gentile “apostle.” And it could have been the work of this man that had produced a less hostile and more hospitable crowd, which brought this deaf and mute man to our Lord.

“Mogilalos”, the Greek term used to describe the deaf man's condition, appears only in one other place in the Bible, which helps us to see that this gospel passage is a fulfilment text: Isaiah 35: 5-6. Isaiah 35 follows a series of oracles in which the prophet proclaims judgment against nations and cities including Tyre (chap. 23), Jerusalem (chap. 28), and Edom (chap. 34). After the destruction of these lands, Isaiah 35 explains, there will be a great restoration accompanied by everlasting holiness and joy. Among the wonders to occur are the healing of the deaf and mute, those who suffered the condition of mogilalos. Originally, the Isaian text refers to the joyful return home of the Jews after their exile in Babylon, but St Mark is now hinting that the Gentiles too are now co-heirs of the same blessing. By healing the deaf and mute man in a pagan territory, our Lord proved that the era of restoration had come, salvation was at hand, and that God would be restoring all things through His Son.

Most of our Lord’s miracles were performed publicly but this one is unique, in that our Lord takes this man aside away from the crowds. There is a poignant intimacy in this private encounter. Our Lord then performs the healing not just by uttering a formula as in other cases but speaking in some form of sign language to this deaf-mute in no less than seven different actions. After taking him aside, our Lord puts His fingers into the man’s ears, spits, touch his tongue, gaze up to heaven, groans and says to him, “Ephphatha!” A signature feature of St Mark’s gospel is the retention of certain Aramaic words.

This healing illustrates once again, the sacramental quality of the body - its ability to be a visible sign and instrument of divine grace - and the fact that our Lord’s work of salvation involves the whole human being, soul and body. The strange foreign sounding word, “Ephphatha”, that came from the lips of Jesus in His very own language, can still be heard and pronounced in churches today every time we pray that a person be enlightened with the gift of faith, and emboldened to proclaim it. As Christ removed the impediments that would have prevented this man from becoming a Son of the Law, through baptism, He removes the obstacles that would keep us from becoming sons and daughters of God.

It is not surprising to see how the Ephphatha rite has been incorporated into the catechumenal ministry or Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA) because there are so many parallels between the story of the healing of the deaf-mute and the coming into the faith of a person seeking baptism. St Ambrose, as early as in the 4th century, gives us a glimpse as to how the rite of signing the senses was used as a pre-baptismal preparation: “Open then your ears. Enjoy the fragrance of eternal life, breathed on you by means of the sacraments. We explained this to you as we celebrated the mystery of “the opening” when we said: Ephphatha, that is, be opened [Mark 7:34]. Everyone who was to come for the grace of baptism had to understand what he was to be asked, and must remember what he was to answer.”

The deaf-mute man who needs healing is an unbeliever just as the enquirer. He is brought by others - much as a catechumen is accompanied by sponsors. They ask for hand-laying, just as is practiced in the exorcisms of the scrutinies. Our Lord takes the man apart from the crowd, just as catechumenal formation takes place apart from the community. Our Lord works the miracle through actions and words, just as how we celebrate sacraments. And the man who was once deemed disqualified from rendering worship to God because of his impediments, was restored to a condition where he can now participate fully in the sacred assembly.

Like all healings in the gospels, the physical cure of the deaf and mute man is real, but also has a deeper spiritual significance. The relationship between the inability to speak and deafness, pictures some of sin's effects. Those who are deaf to the Word of God will have great difficulty speaking properly of spiritual matters. God designed human beings not only with physical senses but also with marvellous spiritual capacities to see, hear and relate to Him. These interior faculties were disabled by original sin, causing a severe communication breakdown between God and humanity. Our Lord’s healing of people who are deaf, blind and lame, is a sign of His restoration of humanity to the fullness of life and communion with our Creator. Now by the grace of Christ, we are able to hear God’s voice in our hearts, sing His praises, and proclaim His mighty deeds to all nations. Let us not behave as if we are still spiritually deaf and mute.

What's wrong with the world?

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A

I guess most people would be expecting me to say something about the Covid-19 pandemic. I’m going to disappoint you. A problem will not go away no matter how much you plan to be fixated on it. Sometimes when we are too focused on the problem, it blinds us to the solution. It’s always much better to focus on the solution. And this is what the Church invites us to do.

Though we often think of ourselves as being objective and rational people, our perception frequently slips like a faulty transmission into auto mode. Without realising it, this shapes our world-view, our judgment of others, our perception of ourselves and gives rise to every prejudice and bias we have of another. What we perceive is what we want to perceive, without recognising that others see something quite different. This is the “blind spot.” By its very definition, people are unaware of their blind spots because they wouldn't be blind spots if people were aware of them! Yes, our blind spots create lots of problems. What we see clouds our judgment; what we don’t see bias our behaviour. As Leonardo da Vinci said, “The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.” So, how could we possibly be liberated from this self-imposed prison? Well, today’s gospel gives us an answer – His name is Jesus.

Today’s passage speaks of the encounter between the man who was born blind and our Lord. After being healed, this man emerged from a tunnel of total darkness that had lasted a lifetime, not just a two weeks modest quarantine. But here is the irony of the story, as the man regained his physical sight and was slowly led to grow in his spiritual sight, the other actors in the story continue to display their blindness, their respective blind spots.

Our Lord sees the problem faced by the blind man, but He also sees the solution. The others, however, the disciples, the man’s neighbours, his parents and the Jewish authorities see a problem too, but rather than seeing a solution and a reason to thank God, they each saw additional problems. They all suffered blind spots.

First, the disciples see the blind man and they think the man has a problem of sin. They believe he is being punished by God either for his own sins or that of his parents. Rather than seeing a way out, they are more concerned with the cause. “Why” may be an important question to ask but sometimes the “why’s” in life lead us no closer to the truth but rather to greater frustration. “Why did this happen?” eventually leads to “why did God allow this to happen?” and finally evolves into “well, if this man didn’t deserve it then either God is not a good God or He doesn’t really care.”  Rather than asking “why”, we should begin to ask, “what must I do?”

Next we have the man’s neighbours who see a different problem. They recognise him as the blind man who used to sit and beg. But now he’s no longer begging and, in fact, he’s not blind anymore. They begin to suspect that this man was never blind in the first place; he could be a con-artist, and so this could have sparked off outrage in having been cheated. That is why they decided to bring him to the authorities for trial and judgment.

Now, the Jewish authorities see another problem. Instead of marveling at the apparent miracle that had taken place, the clear hand of God at work, they are only obsessed with the fact that this could have been a violation of the Law. It’s the Sabbath – and if Jesus indeed did heal the man on the Sabbath, then He was breaking the law. They could not see the forest for the trees.

Finally, the parents of the blind man are called in as witnesses to confirm that this man is actually the same man everyone is talking about. But here again they see yet one more problem – fear of being dragged into this mess, fear of being implicated together with their son, charged as accomplices to this grand scheme of fraud. They’re afraid of testifying to the truth and so they decide to throw their son under the bus. They pushed the responsibility back to their son, “He is old enough, ask him.”

And now we see the man born blind, giving his testimony of what he had seen. This is the greatest irony of all. For a man deprived of his eyesight for his entire life, until now, he sees clearer than all others. We see, that though he suffers the trial of being judged, accused and rejected by the Lord’s disciples, neighbours, family members and the religious authorities, this man gradually grows in faith. It is as if the trials he is experiencing helps him to see clearer rather than impede his spiritual eyesight. In the beginning he thinks of Jesus as merely a “man” among others, then when he is questioned, he speaks of the Lord as being a “prophet” and finally, his eyes are opened and he proclaims Him “Lord” and falls down in worship. From hopeless darkness he grows into the light of faith, entirely through the power of a gift of grace he never asked for; a faith whose logic he follows obediently; a faith that, like a mustard seed, grows in him until it becomes a huge tree.

But remember this story isn’t only about the blind man, or the other characters in the story, it’s also about all of us. This is our journey, moving in stages to confront our own blind spots in order to see Jesus more perfectly. How do we see again? How do we allow our Lord to heal our blind spots? Well, a good start would be to admit that we are part of the problem, if not the problem itself. If we can only see the problem as “something out there”, if we are constantly complaining, blaming, and finding faults with others, then most likely we have missed the massive blind spots lurking behind the periphery of our physical, moral, spiritual vision. Unless I admit that I am blind, then my blindness remains. That is the essence of repentance, the prerequisite of Christian discipleship. Venerable Fulton Sheen gives us this important reminder, “Two classes of people make up the world: those who have found God, and those who are looking for Him - thirsting, hungering, seeking! And the great sinners came closer to Him than the proud intellectuals! Pride swells and inflates the ego; gross sinners are depressed, deflated and empty. They, therefore, have no room for God. God prefers a loving sinner to a loveless 'saint'. Love can be trained; pride cannot. The man who thinks that he knows, will rarely find truth; the man who knows he is a miserable, unhappy sinner, like the woman at the well, is closer to peace, joy and salvation than he knows.” Whether we wish to admit it or not, many of us don’t see our blind spots, because we are too proud to admit that we have them.

This finally leads me to a little story, which is most likely apocryphal, concerning the great GK Chesterton, but it very much captures his wit. It is said that, when a London newspaper asked Chesterton to contribute a piece addressing the question “What’s wrong with the world?” he sent a simple reply: “I am.” I guess we could give the same answer to an entire list of questions: “What’s wrong with the Church?” “What’s wrong with my BEC?” “What’s wrong with my family?” If only there was less blaming and greater humility in acknowledging, “I am … I am what’s wrong.” If that was true, then the answer to the next question, “What must change?” the answer should simply be, “I must.” If you can’t get around to saying that, if you continue to insist that you can see, well, “your guilt remains.”

Those who cannot see even when shown

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A (Mass with Scrutiny)

I recently came across an article which featured a letter from a distraught Singaporean mother addressed to the Central Provident Fund (CPF), the Singaporean equivalent of our Employees Provident Fund. Her request to withdraw S$70,000 to fund her family’s living expenses and treatment for her mentally ill son was rejected. In response to their decision, she wrote a lengthy letter which went viral. What caught my attention was this insightful paragraph:  “There are three classes of people in society. One, those who can see. Two, those who can see when shown and Three, those who cannot see even when shown. Which class do you belong to?” 

“Which class do you belong to?” A good question to begin our reflexion for today’s gospel. We seem to find samplings of the last category in the various characters of today’s gospel. At the beginning of the story, everyone claims to be able to see except the man born blind. But as the story unfolds, we would soon discover that almost all the characters, with the exception of our Lord, suffers from some blindness or other.

First, we have the disciples of the Lord. They have been the privileged recipients of the mysteries of the Kingdom and witnessed first-hand the Lord’s miracles. They, like so many others, truly believe that they can “see.” It is with this presumed sight that they pose what appears to be a clever theological question with regards to the disability of the man born blind, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, for him to have been born blind?” Addressing the Lord as “Rabbi” is the first evidence of their blindness. The blind man’s sight at the end of the gospel is so much more penetrating. The disciples also presumed that since the man has suffered such a fate, it must be on account of some sin, either his or that of his parents. It is assumed that people reap what they sow; that ‘bad luck’ is a result of ‘bad karma’; wicked folks get what is coming to them. Our Lord corrects them: “Your assumptions are flawed.”  “He was born blind so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

The next group are his neighbours and people who knew him as a blind beggar. The sight of the blind man being able to see should have inspired awe at seeing the wonders of God, but instead what arose was incredulity. Then we have the man’s own parents who are summoned as witnesses. They recognise their son and they also recognise the amazing transformation, if not miracle, that has taken place – their son born blind, can now see. And yet, they refuse to acknowledge this out of fear of being implicated in this whole sordid affair.

Finally, we have the Jews and the Pharisees who were scandalised by the fact that the Lord had performed a miracle on a Sabbath in violation of their ritual prohibitions. They have heard the testimonies of the blind man, his neighbours and family members, but still refuse to see. The long story culminates in this parting shot of the Lord aimed at the Pharisees: “Blind? If you were, you would not be guilty, but since you say, “We see”, your guilt remains.”

Yes, all these characters claim to be able to see, but can they really? For our Lord, the real question is whether the lack of seeing is voluntary or involuntary. While, the blind man couldn’t help being blind, the others, who could have seen, chose not to see. Therefore, their guilt remains. At the heart of this fascinating narrative is a simple but powerful contrast: the man who is blind from birth who sees nothing, but upon encountering the healing Saviour, the Light of the World, sees clearly. On the other hand, the other characters who all claim to be able to see clearly, but at the end of the story expose themselves to be truly blind. That is the tragedy!

By now, you would realise that the healing of the man born blind serves to display more than just the power of Christ to perform miracles. Our Lord uses physical sight as a metaphor for something of even greater importance, spiritual sight, to see with the eyes of faith. In John’s gospel, seeing is synonymous with believing.

So, the only character that finally sees, is ironically the man born blind. The gift of sight eventually leads him along a journey of discovery, a path that will lead to a deepened faith. It takes a while before he completely comes to believe. Initially, he obeys without understanding. In the beginning he thinks of Jesus as merely a “man” among others, then when he is questioned, he speaks of the Lord as being a “prophet” and finally his eyes are opened and he proclaims Him “Lord” and falls down in worship. From hopeless darkness he grows into the purest light of faith, entirely through the power of a gift of grace he never asked for; a faith whose logic he follows obediently; a faith that, like a mustard seed, grows in him until it becomes a huge tree.

This is the reason why this gospel reading is chosen for the Second Rite of Scrutiny. St Ambrose of Milan saw in our Lord’s instructions to wash in the waters of Siloam, the call to wash in the waters of Baptism. Pope Emeritus Benedict tells us, “Because of Adam’s sin we too are born “blind” but in the baptismal font we are illumined by the grace of Christ. Sin wounded humanity and destined it to the darkness of death, but the newness of life shines out in Christ, as well as the destination to which we are called. In him, reinvigorated by the Holy Spirit, we receive the strength to defeat evil and to do good.” My dear elect, this is what that will happen to you at your baptism: the washing in the waters of Baptism will give you new sight.

But we too can see ourselves in the man born blind. Like the man born blind, we too enter this world fundamentally blind, blind to what matters most, unless we allow Christ to enlighten the eyes of our hearts (cf. Eph 1:18). Saint Augustine, commenting on the spiritual sense or meaning of the man’s blindness, simply stated, “This blind man is the human race.” This state of blindness is the Original Sin which we have inherited from our father Adam. And we continue to remain in the state of blindness whenever we choose to sin. Someone wisely said that the one thing which is worse than sin is the refusal to acknowledge it. The story would have turned out differently if only Adam had confessed his sin, but he didn’t. Unless we first recognise our blindness, we can never seek the Lord’s healing forgiveness, then our blindness remains, or as the Lord would put it, our “guilt remains.”

Today, it’s good to be reminded by St Paul that: “You were in darkness once, but now you are light in the Lord; be like children of light, for the effects of the light are seen in complete goodness and right living and truth.” Being children of light is a journey. This is your journey. This is our journey, moving in stages to more perfectly know Jesus, to love Him and serve Him. We admit that our vision remains blurred because of sin. In order that our vision may be restored and made clearer, we need to constantly wash it, not in the Pool of Siloam but in the confessional, receiving the healing grace of reconciliation through the Sacrament of Penance. We know that as we persevere, one day we will see our Lord face to face.