I found a reflection online, written by U.S. astronaut Mike Massimino, describing his experience during a space walk high above the world.
“I think this is a wonderful place to be,” the astronaut wrote of our marvelous planet, “but I think seeing it from space, the beauty of it...This is what heaven must look like, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than our planet from space.” Yes, looking from a new perspective, we may see more clearly God’s gifts all around us.
This Sunday is known as Laetare Sunday. Laetare is a Latin word meaning “rejoice.” Why rejoice? We are close to celebrating the Easter mystery.
Sunday's word of God challenges us to look beyond appearances, and with the gift of faith, discover three realities:
Jesus as the light who illumines the purpose of life;
ourselves as a light to others in our attitudes and behaviors; and
our fellow human beings as bearers of the light or presence of God,
no matter how hidden that presence may be.
The word of God takes us back over 3,000 years. King Saul made a mess of things. Here God inspired Samuel to look for another king. At first, David is overlooked. He’s the youngest in a family of eight brothers, an unlikely choice.
Think of great leaders in our country and how unlikely they appeared to many people. George Washington looked downright unfriendly with his false teeth. Lincoln had a face someone compared to a trowel. FDR was wheel-chair bound. Yet, they became admired leaders. And the unlikely young David became king of ancient Israel. God saw in David the potential for great leadership.
The word challenges us not to stereotype people, but rather to look beyond appearances to the incredible potential for good, and try to bring out their best qualities by affirming them.
Paul in his letter to the Christian community in Ephesus in Turkey reflects upon light and darkness. Light can transform a cold night into a warm day. Light enables us to study, to discover, to behold the wonders of God’s universe. In short, light warms, nurtures, sustains, reveals and cheers. Paul urges us to live as children of light, pleasing God in our attitude and behavior.
Jesus is indeed our light.
Saint John Henry Newman captured Jesus as light in a wonderful poem:
"Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on! ….
Often, people are in darkness about their purpose, and forget that Jesus illumines our pathway into eternal life. We too are called to be light, to let our life shine forth with virtues such as honesty, integrity, responsibility, courage.
In the Gospel according to John, Jesus cures a blind man. He opens the eyes of this man so that he can see reality. But notice how blind some of the characters in this story were. The Pharisees were blinded by protocol – how dare Jesus heal on the Sabbath! They also were blinded to the power of God. The parents too were blinded by fear, and refused to stand up for what they knew was true.
The Gospel author challenges us to see Jesus, through the lens of faith, as the light who illumines the purpose of life.
I think of a twentieth century monk, Thomas Merton, who wrote in his autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, about his conversion.
At Cambridge University, Merton had engaged in reckless drinking and carousing. Then at Columbia University, he delighted classmates with his wit and charm, and became editor of the student literary publication.
Merton's chance encounter with a classic philosophical book about the Christian understanding of God changed his life. He went with Robert Lax to St. Bonaventure University, a Franciscan sponsored school in upstate New York, where he became instructor of English. He eventually applied to join the Franciscan friars but was rejected. But a friend advised Merton about the Trappists and off he went to Kentucky. He was based there for the remaining twenty-seven years of his life.
The abbey's mantra was ora et labora (pray and work). Merton wrote dozens of books, poems and articles, and corresponded with religious thinkers and cultural icons, political movers and shakers and people of different faiths or no faith. All of us, Merton argued, are children of God. Faithful to his Catholic tradition, Merton was always open to the truth in other religious traditions. He died tragically in Thailand at age 53.
Throughout his Trappist life, Merton tried to live a life of prayer, of intimacy with God: through chanting the psalms, daily Eucharist and such practices as the stations of the cross and the rosary. Above all, he sought solitude and contemplation: that inner center within himself where he could feel God's love sustaining him. That's why he sought Buddhist techniques, for example, to help find that inner stillness.
In his work Seeds of Contemplation, Merton noted that noise, more than anything else, sabotages contemplation and blocks out the voice of God within us. Merton asked for the grace to clear his mind of earthly “concerns” so that in solitude he could move beyond thoughts and words into a felt awareness of the presence of God within himself. There he would sit still and listen to God's voice.
Yes, he sought to find his true self in God: God abiding in him and he abiding in God. Moreover, Merton sensed the oneness of God all about him, in all creatures and all creation. All were holy. The invisible light of God in all creatures simply had to be made visible.
Our Lenten task, Merton might say, is to let the image of God become manifest in who we are so that others can see beyond our appearances the very likeness of God in our attitudes and behaviors.
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