March 30, 2014 – Lent 4A
© 2014 Evan D. Garner
The audio of this sermon can be heard here.
I want to introduce you
to a lineup of seven individuals.
First is John. Like the
man in today’s gospel lesson, he was born blind. He’s in his late forties, now,
and has spent the last ten years perfecting the art of convincing strangers to
give him money. He sits on a folded up piece of cardboard on the sidewalk at
the intersection of two busy downtown streets. Thousands of people walk past
him every day. He never asks anyone for money, but he quietly sings old gospel hymns
and listens for the change to fall in his shoebox. When the box gets too full,
he dumps the change into a zipper-top bag. At the end of a day, he has made more
than enough money to buy himself some food and a small bottle of something else
before heading home to his apartment.
Next we have Rebecca. She’s
a younger woman. She’s only twenty-five but the lines on her face and her
ill-fitting skin make her look fifteen years older. She has tattoos on both
arms, running all the way up until they disappear beneath her black tank top.
She wears baggy clothing on her emaciated frame and can’t seem to stop
scratching the inside of her forearms. If you look carefully enough, you can
see the remnants of a black-eye that has mostly faded.
Next is Demetrius. He’s
even younger—only nineteen—and he wears a bright orange prison jumpsuit. We
don’t really know much about him. He doesn’t say a lot—keeps mostly to himself.
He must be well-behaved because he spends most days working outside of the
prison, cleaning the floors and taking out the trash at a local community
center. He does what he’s asked to do and never causes trouble. In fact, he is
so clean-cut and gentle in his mannerisms that the jumpsuit looks like it
belongs on someone else.
Fourth is Madison. She is
almost sixteen but has pretty much forgotten what it means to be a teenager.
Her parents took her out of school last semester. She’s cute and smart. Even
though she isn’t allowed out of the house, her parents spent a lot of money on nice
maternity clothes. Her distended belly looks strange on a girl as young and
petite as she. Her mother wanted her to end the pregnancy, but her dad found
out and refused to let that happen. She’ll give the child up for adoption
before she even has a chance to see the life that has been growing inside of
her.
Fifth is Michael. He is
old enough to have three grandchildren even though his current wife isn’t.
Always well-dressed and well-groomed, Michael projects an image of success. He
owns two businesses and several pieces of commercial property in town. He goes
to church most Sundays and is one of the more generous donors in the community.
He is a shrewd businessman who has positioned himself as the leading provider
of landscaping services in the community.
Next is Gorge. He works
for Michael and has for four years. In that time, he has demonstrated an
unbelievable capacity for physical labor and a genuine sensitivity for the
needs of his coworkers. Because of that, he has been promoted and now heads up
three of the work crews. He came to this country illegally and sends half of
his pay back to his wife and children in Mexico. His boss pays him under the
table, and no taxes means more money for his struggling family back home.
Last is Carol. She is a
second-career Episcopal Priest. She first felt the call to ordained ministry
when she was in college, but, back then, women weren’t allowed to be ordained,
so she worked as a school teacher for twenty-five years before finally telling
her rector that she felt like God was calling her to be a priest. She’s been
ordained for nine years, now, and is loved by her congregation. She’s never
been married, which seems strange for a woman as sweet and attractive as she is.
Like all ministers, she has secrets that she would never tell her congregation,
but, for the most part, she’s happy and so are the people she serves.
What does sin look like? Which
of these seven looks like a sinner to you? Which ones wear their sins on the
outside where you can see them? And which ones hide them where you can’t? How
many of them are living out the consequences of their sins? And for which ones
is it only a matter of time before their sins catch up with them? That’s the
funny thing about sin. Sometimes you think you can see it, but you can’t. And
other times you don’t think it’s there when it’s actually right below the
surface. That’s because sin rarely looks the way we think it should.
Jesus and his disciples
walked past a man who was born blind, and then the disciples did something that
was as natural as a six-year-old asking what’s wrong with a person who lives in
a wheelchair: they saw something they didn’t understand, and they asked a
question about why. Why was this man born blind? Why did that happen? Did his
parents do something wrong to deserve that? Is he being punished for something
he did—even before he was born? Why would God cause a little child to be born
without his eyesight unless he or his parents or someone else in their family had
done something to deserve that?
If that seems like the
kind of thing people used to think “way back when”—the kind of thing people
don’t believe anymore—stop and ask yourself why you feel uncomfortable when
it’s your six-year-old child or grandchild who asks that question. We still
live in a world where “different” means “wrong.” We see something different on
the outside and unconsciously assume that something must be wrong on the
inside. Why? Because sin is easier to deal with if it looks a certain way. As
long as sin comes with tattoos, piercings, and baggy pants—as long as we can
dress it up in a bright orange jumpsuit—then no one thinks about the sinner
inside the Italian suit or the Donna Karan dress or the clerical collar. As
long as we can compartmentalize sin by sight, we can ignore the kind of
brokenness that we can’t see in the mirror. But for how long?
When God looks at us,
what does he see? As the reading from 1 Samuel reminds us, “the Lord does not
see as mortals see. They look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on
the heart.” When God looks at our hearts, what does he see?
In response to their
question, Jesus said to his disciples, “This man was born blind so that God’s
works might be revealed in him.” That’s a bold thing to say—to declare to
someone who had spent a lifetime living out the tragic result of the genetic
lottery that there was divine purpose in his disability. But Jesus said it, and
he meant it in a way that only God himself could mean it. When God looks upon
us, he sees not our brokenness but the wholeness that is offered to us through
his son, Jesus Christ. Whether our sins are visible or invisible, whether we
are surrounded by struggle or projecting an image of luxury, God sees who we
really are. And he sees each and every one of us as the exact same opportunity
for his works to be revealed. It doesn’t matter who you are or what sins you
carry inside of you. It doesn’t matter whether you’ve got it all together or
have everything falling apart. God sees you as a work in progress—as an
opportunity for his glorious work of redemption to take hold. Amen.