Homily for 4th Sunday in Lent
The team’s morale had never been higher. Their speed was peaking; their accuracy was better than ever. They had become a team through good times and bad, encouraging each other constantly. The cheering section on the sideline was packed; the cheerleaders were yelling and tumbling perfectly. The coach was confident, and his pep-talk was the best homily they ever heard. Everything was working at fever pitch, and everyone was ready to take State.
But they came in second anyway. The opponent was faster, bigger, more aggressive, more something. The scent of victory became a bitter taste as the team returned home with a trophy that read “second best.” No matter how encouraging the parents and faculty and friends were, the team knew they had come within a few minutes of victory, and had known defeat instead.
Disappointment. Every narrative in every newspaper totes up the winners and the non-winners. For every triumph there is a simultaneous tragedy. Even the impressive victory of this team in boys basketball or girls soccer comes matched with a greater number of not-quite-best performances in years past. For every champion there are literally dozens of not-quite-champions. And even in victory there are little defeats–blocked shots and missed questions and spliced notes that the competitor notices even if the judges don’t.
So it is in the moral life, too. God searches the heart and rejects every son of Jesse except the youngest, little, red-headed David. How do you think the older boys felt, one by one turned away by Samuel? Did they wonder what imperfections made them unfit for command? How profound must have been their disappointment, how red-hot their envy? And how many times did the blind man of the Gospel ask “why me?” Perhaps even he wondered what sin he had committed, or his parents had committed, to be condemned to total darkness without so much as a white cane or leader dog to help. Every day, every hour spent listening with heightened hearing the taunts “sinner, sinner.”
The longing of our hearts, of all our hearts, is for a victory that is a true victory, for a light that does not vanish with the sundown. We want to know that death is not just the last in a long series of disappointments, one more dislocation in a life of separations. We want to hear a story in which “they lived happily ever after” is more than the words in a child’s fairy tale.
The critical question we have to answer is the one posed to the blind man: Do you believe in the Son of Man? If we can truly answer “Lord, I do believe,” then we can be part of the story that has only happy endings. We can look to death as a transition from a life of loving service to a life of heavenly glory. We can be part of a victory that has no strata of defeat.
St. Paul tells us today what we have to do in order to be on that winning team. For most of us, the first step was taken when we were infants–our parents brought us to the Church to be baptized, to be soaked with Christ. As our bodies were washed with water, our souls were reborn as images of Jesus Christ. The seed of faith began to grow within our hearts. We began to walk as children of the light.
Many of us, unfortunately, were not entirely faithful to that light. We have walked in darkness at some time. I know I have turned away from God, either totally or partially, many times, somehow thinking that I’d be happier in the shadow of sin. It’s a lie. If we pursue some pleasure ahead of God, or if we chase after honors or power instead of living a life of detachment and service, we just end up with a bitter taste. The ten commandments and the six commandments of the Church are gifts. God wants us to be happy. He wants us to be like Jesus and our Blessed Mother.
God and His prophets especially warn us away from what St. Paul calls the fruitless deeds of darkness. What does that mean? And what good does it does to expose them?
Most of us fall into sin either through bad example or experimentation. As children, perhaps we heard a respected adult swear or use God’s name in a curse, and we thought it was a grown-up thing to do. So we began using bad language with our friends. That’s one reason to watch what we do around impressionable people–they may imitate us in our evildoing. Alternately, we get into a position of stress and experiment with alcohol or psychotropic drugs or self-abuse–a single sin that may give pleasure for a moment but cause physical, emotional and spiritual damage.
Our moral conscience is given to us so that when we fall into sin, we can recognize the action as damaging to ourselves and others, repent, confess and be forgiven. God’s mercy is profound and everlasting. But suppose we don’t repent. Suppose we fall into a habit of sin. Each repetition of sin dulls our consciences a little more. Before we realize what is happening, we are addicted to the transitory pleasure of the drunkenness, the larceny, the sex-outside-marriage, the cheating or larceny. Our minds get screwed up, confused, and we begin to think that what we are doing is good, is even our right. We might even band together with others addicted to self-destructive behavior and begin to demand that this behavior be legalized, protected by society as a universal human right.
That’s what Paul means by fruitless deeds of darkness–they are habits of sin that can destroy your soul, your family, even your community. By God’s grace, however, in the past century we have been given organizations and ministries dedicated to helping those addicted to such behavior: Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, Overeaters Anonymous, Courage, Project Rachel, Retrovaille-- all work as agents of God’s grace.
And now we must ask ourselves about that command to expose deeds of darkness. Yes, it means we have to get involved politically to oppose those who would make abominations like abortion into some sort of privileged and publically funded right. But it also means that if we know someone, a friend or relative, who is ensnared in morally self-destructive conduct, we must help him or her by shining the light lovingly on the behavior. This is not easy. We can ourselves fall into the sin of judgementalism if we are not charitable in this work. We have to be kind and pastoral. But we can’t ignore hurtful habits in others; that is the path of cowardice. Remember that one of the spiritual works of mercy is admonishing sinners.
As we continue our pursuit of spiritual soundness this Lent, we ask for the grace we need from the Holy Spirit to be men and women and children useful to God. Unlike basketball, soccer, or any other human contest, this is one in which everyone can be on a winning team, in which everyone can celebrate victory over the common enemies, sin and death, this Eastertide.
