What does it mean to possess
“eyes of faith” so that a disciple can “look into the
heart”?
Several years ago, a friend
telephoned to tell me that I had upset and hurt her when we had last
talked with one another. Shocked and wondering to myself “Now what
did I say?”, I asked my friend just what it was I said that had so
upset and hurt her. She related in a very firm tone of voice what I had
said—every
word was accurate—but
she took what I had said in a way I had not intended. When she
finished her rendition, I was feeling pretty defensive. I didn’t
know whether I should bring out the canons and fire away, to reason with
her so that she’d see things my way, or to listen for the truth of what
she had to say.
So, I had a choice to make, just
as Samuel did when he was selecting Israel’s next King.
Had I looked at my friend’s
rendition “with human eyes” that judge solely by appearances,
I could have chosen to respond by pointing the finger of blame
everywhere but at myself. I also could have chosen to offer all sorts of
explanations and excuses. Perhaps I could have chosen to deny all of it,
claiming ignorance. Or, I could have chosen to respond with anger. I
could also have written her out of my life for misinterpreting what I
had said and judging me guilty of malice. What kind of friend would ever
do that?
“Seeing with human
eyes,” I could have chosen any of these options, each of which
would have insulated and protected me through the fig leaves of
self-justification. I’d then never have to consider whether I had
acted with malice.
Using the “eyes of
faith” to look into the heart as God does, I could have chosen a
different approach to respond to my friend’s statements. I could have
chosen to respond by recognizing that only a friend who really cares
would be honest enough to remove my fig leaves and expose my lack of
self-awareness. I could also have chosen to respond by recognizing that
her honesty was actually curing me of the blindness that had made it
impossible for me to see the impact my words were having upon her. And,
I could also have chosen to respond by giving thanks to God for gracing
me with a friend.
Seeing with the eyes faith and
looking into my friend’s heart, I could have chosen any of these
options, each of which would challenge me to mature spiritually.
The conversation I had with my
friend happens to people all of the time. How often does a spouse ask,
“Hun, what’s the matter?” only to be told “Nothing.
Just leave me alone.” How often do parents ask one of their
children, “What’s caused you to be so moody?” only to be told
“Nothing” and then watch the child storm out of the house or
flee up the stairs, slamming the door to show that nothing is bothering
him? How often does a friend ask, “What’s eating at you?”
only to hear a deafening silence from us or to receive our cold shoulder
in return?
Because people love us as God
loves us, they see into our hearts with the eyes of faith. By being
attentive to and listening to these people, we can mature spiritually as
disciples in mission. Unfortunately, though, isn’t it easier to run,
to hide, and even, to dismiss these people, all in a vain attempt to
seclude ourselves within the darkness of self-chosen blindness?
The consequences, however, are
tragic as we wallow in blindness and self-pity, increasingly relying on
appearances to make judgments.
Isn’t it easy to look about and to
judge others—as
Samuel judged Jesse's first seven sons—not
by looking into their hearts—as
God does—but
to judge people solely by their appearances? As a little Lenten
examination of conscience, you might ask: How often do I find myself
deciding who to associate with judging people not by the content and
quality of their character—looking
into their hearts—but
judging solely by their appearances?
Isn’t it easier when someone looks
at us with the eyes of the faith and points out the truth—namely,
that we aren’t nearly as perfect as we pretend to be—to
point the finger of blame everywhere else, to make excuses and, perhaps,
to cover up the truth? As a little Lenten examination of
conscience, you might ask: How often do I find myself writing the people
who have been honest with me out of your life…all because I don’t want
to be honest with myself? Now, study the length of your list of
names to appreciate just how much you see people with human eyes.
And, perhaps worst of all, isn’t
it easier to look around at everyone else’s various imperfections and—because
we look at them with human eyes—to
not associate with them and, even, to reject them because we refuse to
look into their hearts—as
God does—with
the eyes of faith? Just for a moment, consider the people who have
hurt you so that you have decided, “I will never talk to that person
again.” As a little Lenten examination of conscience, you might
ask: How many people have I written out of my life because I’ve judged
them guilty of sin and completely undeserving of my forgiveness?
The prophet Samuel allowed
himself to be trapped by his self-chosen blindness. He knew what he
wanted the new King of Israel to look like. And, as Samuel searched for
God’s anointed, Samuel used human eyes to judge the candidates merely
by the external standard of appearances. Because of his self-chosen
blindness, Samuel duped himself into thinking that Jesse’s first six
sons were God’s anointed.
But, God saw things differently
and intervened, challenging Samuel to see with the eyes of the faith and
to look more deeply into the heart of each of Samuel’s sons. Rather
than using as a standard what Samuel wanted the next King of Israel to look
like, God challenged Samuel to mature spiritually and to learn how to
judge as God does, by using the eyes of faith to look into the heart. And so it happened that the candidate possessing the least credentials
was God’s anointed and proved himself over time (remember David sinned
grievously to have Bathsheba) to be the greatest of
Israel’s kings, David.
Let there be no doubt about it. It is hard to look at ourselves with the eyes of faith. And, we also all
know that its very hard to listen to someone speak the truth to us.
Absent courage—which
is a sign of spiritual maturity—we
may dismiss those impelled by love of God and neighbor to heal our
blindness because we stubbornly refuse to admit the truth they speak.
But, it also takes a lot of courage to act when we look at others with
the eyes of faith. We all know how hard it is to utter the truth
to a spouse, a child, or a friend. Yet, absent this courage, we
won’t speak the truth to others because we allow fear to hold us back.
In today’s gospel, Jesus healed
the man born blind not just of his physical blindness but, more
importantly, of his spiritual blindness. The man healed of blindness now
sees things as they truly are and he slowly begins to perceive a lack of
faith—blindness—in
his fellow Jews. The one who once was blind now sees and begins to teach
those who claim to see but in reality are blind.
This fourth Sunday of Lent marks
the mid-point of our annual focus upon sin and our need as disciples in
mission to turn from sin and to embrace a “gospel way of
life.” This Sunday’s readings challenge us to assess whether and
to what degree see into the heart with eyes of faith. Two questions are
paramount:
First: Do we see ourselves as we
truly are?
If we are so cocksure of our
opinions that we don’t listen to or appreciate the merit of what
others have to say, it is important to recognize that we are freely
embracing blindness rather than spiritual maturity. And, as we sidestep
issues and resort to denial or arguing, what we are really doing is to
turn away from the grace of the Lenten season and freely choosing to
live in the darkness of our self-chosen blindness. As today’s gospel
indicates, Jesus did not come to promote blindness but sight.
Second: Do we help others to see
themselves as they truly are?
Many times we see very clearly,
but we choose to embrace blindness. Only later do we offer the
excuse, “Gosh, I saw that coming.” When we look into the heart using
the eyes of faith, God’s love impels us to muster up the courage, to
step in, and to challenge those who becoming blind. And, if we
fail to muster the courage to speak the truth, we are turning our backs
on the God who has restored our sight—like
the man born blind—to
see sin, and to keep it from ruining lives.
Yes, it’s very easy to talk about
“disciples in mission” and to say a little prayer each week
that God will enable us to go forth as disciples in mission. But, today’s
readings remind us that discipleship entails something more than just
uttering a prayer or having vague hopes. Discipleship also requires
possessing the capacity to look into the heart—our
own and others—through the eyes of
faith.
Our mission as disciples requires
that we allow the Lord to heal our blindness so that we might look into
our own hearts with the eyes of faith, to turn from sin, and to embrace
a gospel way of life.
But, that’s only one half of
the challenge of discipleship.
The other half involves looking
into the hearts of others through the eyes of faith. Our mission is to
allow God’s love present in our hearts to heal their blindness so that
these people might also look into their hearts with the eyes of faith, turn from
sin, and embrace a gospel way of life.
For disciples in mission, this is
the path to spiritual maturity.