Fourth Sunday in Lent

March 2, 2008

St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

The Rev. Hannah Anderson

"Be Thou My Vision"

We hear about vision, the ability to see, in the very beginning of Holy Scripture.  In the book of Genesis, meaning origin, God created the earth and all that is in it.  With each consecutive layer of emerging life, the story reads that God saw that it was good.  At the end of the creation story, indeed, God saw everything that had been brought into being and it was good.

The very next story we hear is about Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden where two human beings blessed with vision take actions that distort their relationship with their Creator God.  We read that immediately the eyes of both were opened and they saw things differently than before.  This has been called the death of the first naiveté, or innocence. It is against this backdrop, then, that we consider today how God might be speaking to us about the multi-layered gift of vision and the consequences of how we use this gift.

From the Hebrew Scriptures, we hear that Samuel has been given the awesome task of choosing the next king.  King Saul has turned into a treacherous leader and God wants a replacement for him.   Samuel, a prophet or seer, is tapped on the shoulder for the job.  God is counting on his ability to see not literally with his eyes, but with his heart, as he travels to meet with Jesse’s sons.  After seven of them come before him—all of whom look outwardly to be fit for a king’s position—Samuel has still not seen the one to be chosen.  When he asks Jesse if there are any more sons, it turns out that the youngest, David, is in the field tending sheep.  When he is brought before Samuel, there is a moment the prophet sees with his heart.  He took oil and anointed him.  From that day, the spirit of the Lord came upon David and we know that he succeeded Saul as king to lead the Israelites forward in their journey with God.   Holy vision, in this story, is not about the ability for one to see outwardly with the eyes but inwardly with the heart. 

The story about the blind beggar from John’s Gospel offers us a different perspective—one that has to do with a physical healing of a man’s vision.  Because people were suggesting that his blindness was related to sinfulness, Jesus chose to use this as a teaching moment—even on the Sabbath.  Without consulting the blind beggar, who obviously knew his place by the gate of the town, Jesus spat in the dirt to make mud.  Spreading it over the man’s eyes, he then asked him to go and wash, which was the cleansing ritual.  The man’s returned no longer blind, but able to see clearly. 

Layers of confusion erupt as a result of this healing.  People do not recognize him.  They want to distance themselves from him, even his parents.  The beggar is asked again and again by the Pharisees, ‘How did this happen?  And, ‘Where is the person who did this?  Who do you think he is, anyway?’  The man is inundated with questions.  Imagine the incredible disorientation he must have experienced physically, emotionally and psychologically.  Those around him are unable to see him for who he is and they cannot see Jesus for who he is:  identity for both of them is at stake.

As a result of being healed by Jesus on the Sabbath, the beggar is cast out from the synagogue and, most likely, from his family.  The entire foundation of his life has been ripped away from him.  Jesus seeks him out, reveals to him his identity as the Son of Man.  Never again will the beggar be isolated; he has been brought into the flock, into the community of other believers who see with their hearts.  The Pharisees remain, confused, sure of their vision and yet so very blind to the Truth.

In the Letter to the Ephesians, we are reminded that we are light, not darkness.  Whether we have the ability to see with our eyes or not, God initiates the gift of vision within us through grace.  Remember that St. Paul, to whom this letter is attributed, was cast into temporary blindness by our Lord in order that he might see the Truth. 

On this fourth Sunday in the season of Lent, we would do well to have God examine our own eyes—the ones we see with as well as the eye of our heart.  Is our vision aligned with God’s?  Are we seeing with Light or partial darkness?  Who or what is God placing in our path to restore our divine sight?  A person, a situation, a decision to be made?  Are we taking adequate time and attention to keep the eye of our heart filled with God’s Light or have we allowed busyness or worry to cloud it over and dull its perception? 

Close your eyes now.  Breathe.  For the next minute or so, listen to the words of one of our hymns, ‘Be thou My Vision.’  (Hymnal, #488)

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; all else be nought to me, save that thou art—thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.

Be thou my wisdom, and thou my true word; I ever with thee and thou with me, Lord; thou my great Father; thine own may I be; thou in me dwelling, and I one with thee.

High King of heaven, when victory is won, may I reach heaven’s joys, bright heaven’s Sun!  Heart of my heart, whatever befall, still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

AMEN.