Brighter Light & Deeper Darkness

“As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of the world.”

Our Lenten gospel readings are taking us through the basic elements, aren’t they!  Two weeks ago it was wind, last week water, and now today it is light. Did you know that the word ‘lent’ has a Germanic origin and originally meant spring or, even more precisely, lengthening (as in more hours of sunlight).  Even with this winter’s awful weather, there is no mistaking that the days are getting longer.  But while light is coming into our world with earlier sunrises and later sunsets, our Gospel readings foreshadow a growing darkness.  It feels like the more Jesus shines the Light of God’s love the deeper and more resistant the darkness around him becomes. 

In today’s reading, Jesus’ attention is drawn to a person who has been blind from birth.  The disciples use the occasion to ask their teacher a theological question: Why was this person born blind?  Was it on account of his sin or his parents?  The assumption behind the question is obvious: someone, somewhere, sometime in the past must have sinned and the blindness represents God’s punishment.  Jesus’ response, in effect, is this: “Do you think God uses divine power to cause misery as a way to dole out judgment?  That kind of thinking is rubbish!  Let me show you what God’s power is intended to do.”  And with that, the Light of the world gives sight to a person blind from birth.

You would think such a wonderful event would be cause for celebration, for thanksgiving, for praising God, but it is not.  It serves to muster the forces of darkness.  Questionings, interrogations, accusations, insults, and intimidation follow.  It is a story of one person’s new-found faith knotted in a very real fear of attack.  It is a story of reversals where those in authority are blind to who Jesus is, but a person once blind can see his identity clearly.  And ultimately, it is a story where the person who now can see is driven away by the community of the blind.

The themes of light and darkness play a significant role in John’s gospel.  Nicodemus comes to Jesus under the cover of night.  Peter denies his Lord at night.  On Easter morning, Mary leaves for the tomb while it is still dark.  John begins his gospel by telling his readers that Jesus was the Light for all people, that the Light shined in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.  Well, the darkness may not overcome the light, but it sure tries. 

When light shines in darkness it exposes two kinds of people: those who are lost and groping to find their way (and for them the light is a welcome relief) and those who live in the dark so that their works will not be exposed (and for them, the light is unwelcome and sends them scurrying for cover).  As I said, the brighter Jesus shines the deeper the darkness around him seems to become.  He can scarcely say or do a thing without stirring up controversy because those in authority love the darkness and always react negatively to his light. 

2,000 years later and I wonder how much things have changed.  Many of Jesus’ followers seem overly concerned about determining who is good enough and who is not, who is a sinner and who is not, who deserves to be blessed by God and who does not, whose doctrine and theology and practices are acceptable to God and whose are not.  At times the church seems more caught up in shining a light of judgment to expose the deeds of others rather than being a light that helps people to find their way to God. 

And it seems to go hand in hand that when you focus on the faults of others you grow blind to your own shortcomings.  Continually pointing the finger at others seems to diminish one’s ability (or perhaps desire) to engage in critical self-reflection.  Jesus once put it this way: “Why do you focus on the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but ignore the log in your own eye?” 

I trust you saw the news a few weeks ago that Fred Phelps, the founder of Westboro Baptist Church, died a lonely and broken man – rejected by family members and the church he founded.  Phelps and the Westboro congregation gained national notoriety by protesting at military funerals and using various tactics to intimidate church-goers who they deemed to be sinners.  Reaction to his death was interesting, to say the least.  Many people posted angry comments suggesting that crowds should picket his burial so that his family and supporters could get a taste of their own medicine.  One person went so far as to suggest that the military should send a transport plane to fly over the proceedings and dump garbage on everyone.  In one form or another, people were holding tight to that old moral dictum of an eye for an eye.

But I found a different sentiment being expressed by many people of faith.  Several priests I know said they would offer prayers for Fred Phelps during Sunday worship.  “We pray for our enemies and love those who persecute us because this is what Jesus taught us to do”, one posted.  Others stated that in burial Phelps should be afforded the dignity he so often denied to others.  And while this kind of response goes against the grain of the emotions that well up in us so naturally, it is in keeping with our own baptismal covenant.  When we say the words of the covenant, we do not make conditional commitments.  We never promise only to respect the dignity of those who deserve to be respected.  We promise to respect the dignity of every human being.  When we act like this we become a light for the world, helping the lost to find their way.

Over the next few weeks we will witness Jesus’ determination to shine God’s love and light all the way to the darkest place imaginable, to the darkest moment in human history, to the cross.  His unflinching grit and determination is an example we seek to emulate, but often fall short of achieving.  Still, whenever we find ourselves immersed in darkness, we know that there is a Light to which we can turn for strength, for guidance, and for support. 

Jesus said, “As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of the world!”