As God Sees

One day Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, and Dr. Watson, his assistant, went on a camping trip. They ate well, enjoyed a bottle of wine, and then lay down. Soon they were fast asleep. Some hours later, Holmes woke up. He nudged his faithful friend. “Watson,” he asked, “Look up and tell me what you see.” Watson replied, “I see millions and millions of stars.” Holmes then said, “Well, Watson, what does that tell you?” Watson thought a bit and then replied, “Astronomically, I observe that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I see that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is about a quarter past three. Theologically, I understand that God is all-powerful, and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Why, what does it tell you?” “Watson, you idiot,” Holmes replied, “Someone has stolen our tent!”1

It’s Laetare Sunday, also known as Refreshment Sunday or Rose Sunday, for the rose-colored paraments and vestments that are traditional for the day. Since we don’t have rose-colored paraments and vestments, we’re still using our purple paraments and vestments. Even so, we’re halfway through Lent. Just for today we can ease up on our Lenten disciplines and look forward to the joys of Easter. And because we anticipate Easter, today is also a traditional day to tell jokes, even in the midst of this solemn Lenten season.

Just as Holmes chided Watson for not seeing what he most needed to see, today’s Scripture invites us to question whether we are seeing what we most need to see. Is it possible that we might see the world around us differently? In our reading from the first Book of Samuel, we encounter a venerable servant of God, who learned to see differently. Samuel had served God since he was a young boy, since he first said to God, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” On God’s instructions, he had anointed Saul as king. When Saul failed to be the king the people of Israel needed, Samuel followed God’s instructions and sought a new king from the family of Jessie. Even though Samuel was able to hear God speaking, he still needed to be tutored by God in how to see. Wasn’t his first choice for the next king just the one we would make? Big, handsome, regal, yes? No, for “the Lord does not see as mortals see.” Wasn’t David, as the youngest, the least likely person to be the next king? Yes, yet God already foresaw the powerful leader that David would eventually become, and God taught Samuel how to see a little of what God saw in David.

In our Gospel story, it is the disciples who learn to see differently – at least we hope so – and the Pharisees who cannot or refuse to see differently. Walking along, Jesus and the disciples pass by a blind man. The disciples see the man and do what Watson did – or what we might do, or think when we see a beggar or homeless person. They see an “it.” They focus on the past and look for someone to blame for the man’s condition. They see a theological problem, an abstraction. Jesus models a different way of seeing. Jesus sees a human being, a “thou.” Jesus looks into the future and sees what the man might become. Jesus sees someone in need. Jesus looks for a way to transform evil, not just talk about it.

And then Jesus acts. He does something concrete to change the man’s condition. He doesn’t let himself get mired in process. He doesn’t wonder what the systemic reasons are for the man’s blindness or his need to beg. He doesn’t wonder why the man’s family isn’t taking care of him. He doesn’t wait to mix the mud paste until the man says he believes that Jesus can heal him. He doesn’t care that the Pharisees will criticize him for healing on the Sabbath. He sees someone who needs help, he takes action, and he enables the man to see.

The now-sighted man is, as we would be, ecstatic that he can see. When he finally finds Jesus again, he worships him. Unfortunately, the Pharisees have a different reaction. They are not impressed by Jesus’ healing of the blind man, and they are offended that Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Have they, as we often do, put God in a box? Are they unable to see beyond the lines of their dogma and tradition? Do they try to fit God into the confines of their own understanding, instead of seeing the sign that God might be doing something entirely unprecedented?

What do you see in this story? Are you like the disciples, willing at least to wonder what Jesus might be up to? Or are you more like the Pharisees, unable to believe that God might do things in an untraditional, unexpected way? I wonder what would happen if we could put aside our preconceived ideas about how things are and ask God to help us to see as Jesus saw, as God sees – even just a little.

Might we see ourselves differently? Might we be able to admit honestly who we are? We began our Lenten study series on forgiveness looking at the need for honest, intentional self-examination. This past week we talked about recognizing our enemies, both those people we actively dislike or believe wish to harm us and those elements of our own personality or lifestyle that we dislike. Is it possible that we are not seeing either our external or internal “enemies” clearly, or as Jesus sees them? Might we also admit how and where – and more often than we like – we miss the mark? Might we be able to ask God to open our eyes to those places in our lives we could begin to change?

By the same token, might we also be able to see ourselves as God’s beloved and gifted children? Think of all the images just from Scripture that remind us of how dear we are to God. We are like the protected sheep of today’s psalm, watched over by the Good Shepherd. We are the guests at God banquet, fed with the rich wines of Isaiah’s prophecy or with the bread and fish of the gospel accounts. We are the ones who are healed from our diseases by God, whose eyes are opened by God, and who are taught by God to have faith in God’s promises. We are those who in baptism were “sealed with the Spirit” and are now part of Christ’s body.

If we could see as Jesus saw, as God sees – even a little – might we also see others differently? If we knew our family and friends to also be God’s beloved children, might we be more understanding of them? Might our anger flare up less often? Might we treat our co-workers, our clients, those who wait on us, guests, and strangers as fellow human beings with real needs of their own? Might we be slower to judge those who look, talk, smell, or behave differently from us? Might we be more willing to take the practical steps needed to meet their needs for healthcare, housing, clothing, or work? Might we even see other faith communities differently? Might we be more willing to partner not only with those of other Christian denominations but with Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, or even with those of no religion, to begin addressing the world’s myriad needs? If we could see as Jesus saw, as God sees, might we be able to recognize signs of God’s presence in the world? Might we see that God is already working a transformation in us – if we would but cooperate?

One day people saw a blind man sitting by the steps of a building with a hat by his feet and a sign that read, “I am blind, please help.” A creative publicist came by and noticed that the blind man had only a few coins in his hat. He dropped a few coins in the man’s hat. Then, without asking the man’s permission, he took the sign, turned it over and wrote another message on it. Then he put the sign back by the man’s feet and left. That afternoon the publicist came back to check on the blind man. The blind man’s hat was full of bills and coins. The blind man recognized the publicist’s footsteps and asked if he was the one who had rewritten his sign. The blind man wanted to know what he had written on it. The publicist said, “Nothing that was not true. I just phrased your message differently.” He smiled and went on his way. The blind man never knew that his sign now read “TODAY IS SPRING AND I CANNOT SEE IT.”2

God is continually transforming us into Jesus’ likeness. As we trust in “the slow work of God,” perhaps we can also begin to comprehend the work to which we have been called as members of Christ’s body. As Teresa of Avila, one of the great Christian mystics reminded us,

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
No hands but yours, No feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which is to look out
Christ’s compassion to the world;
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.3

1. Told in Synthesis, March 30, 2014.
2. Ibid.
3. Parminder Singh Summon, Summon’s Compendium of Days (New York: Seabury, 2007), 96