You can also hear and watch this sermon by clicking here. The sermon starts at 20:00, but you should really just watch the whole service. :)
Lent 4A
March 22, 2020
Psalm 23
John 9:1-41
INTRODUCTION
This fourth Sunday in Lent traditionally offers us a sort of respite from an otherwise austere season. You will see that reflected in our texts today, which may come to you as a great relief in this dark season in our world! We’ll hear the beloved 23rd Psalm (as we already have once in our opening hymn). From Ephesians we’ll hear about how we are children of the light, and in John, the Gospel which begins by telling us that “a light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it,” Jesus will call himself the Light of the World as he gives sight to a man born blind.
As you hear these texts, notice what they stir in you in this strange season of our lives. Maybe you hear them and think, “Yes, yes this!” and maybe on this particular day they come off sounding more hollow to you, which is also okay. Just notice how your heart is stirred – and I’ll be talking a bit in my sermon about my own experience. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
In the interest of Lent being a time of repentance, I’d like to start with a confession: I struggled with these uplifting texts this week. That’s probably not what you were hoping to hear from your pastor, but it is true. It was a difficult week. My husband Michael deployed with the NY Guard this week and will be gone for the next 6-8 weeks, to do some very important work dealing with COVID-19 cases in our state. This of course has left me home full time with my wonderful but young and demanding children, with no ability to call upon my village due to social distancing. It would be difficult enough in these circumstances to write a sermon, but on top of that, every time I approached these texts – with their assurance of light, and hope, and presence, and promise – rather than bringing me comfort, they made me feel convicted and brought me further fear and despair. “Oh yeah?” I would think. “Light, you say? Where? I’m not seeing it. All I’m seeing and experiencing is fear.” I could almost feel myself turning in on myself, frantically grasping for self-preservation, for any lifeline, even as everything I have come to depend upon for that purpose was taken away with each new announcement and restriction. I felt trapped, hardened, and very much, as the Psalmist writes, in the shadow of death.
Quick fast forward – I am figuring things out. I’m developing a system to navigate this new reality. I’m really fine, so please don’t worry (though prayers are still welcome!)! My grandmother used to say, “God doesn’t waste anything,” and indeed, I know that God is already using these dark days to teach me: they have been a profound experience of how ready darkness and fear are to pounce in and try to overcome the light.
I read a blog post about how to preach in this time, and something the author wrote really struck me – “the COVID-19 pandemic,” he writes, “will be used by the Devil to erode faith.” He goes on, “An invisible threat lurks on every door handle and in every cough. Grocery stores are emptying, and jobs are disappearing. A general feeling of uncertainty abounds, and anxiety is… on the rise. It is a playground for the Devil in his main task: the destruction of faith in Jesus Christ.”[1]
Had I not been experiencing that very thing, this observation likely would not have hit me so profoundly, but the truth is: this is a fearful time, “surreal,” is the word I keep hearing, and I know I am not the only one struggling in this way. We are (the whole world!) walking through the valley of the shadow of death right now – literal death, in too many cases, or fear of it, or perhaps the sort of death that social isolation brings (especially for extroverts like me, or even more for those already prone to anxiety or depression). Or perhaps the shadow of death is seen in the loss of our normal support systems, or the loss of our various lifelines, whether it is live performance, or late-night comedy, or various social groups, or for Christians, the loss of regular in-person gathering and of receiving Holy Communion. And what makes that shadowy valley so threatening is that the very nature of a shadow is that the light is blocked – even the very Light of the World himself!
I do love this story about Jesus healing the man born blind, in which Jesus announces himself as the Light of the World. Did you notice that the actual healing takes only 12 verses, and the rest of this long reading is mostly people taking issue with this man’s experience? It’s like they cannot accept that light could possibly shine so brightly into an experience that they cannot understand. The Pharisees, the neighbors, even his own parents can only see things the way they are used to seeing them: either this man sinned, or his parents did, that he was born blind. Their narrow view of how life works has cast a shadow on the possibility that God could do something different. “As long as I am in the world,” Jesus says, “I am the light of the world.” And with that he casts aside all shadow of doubt. And the man who was formerly blind proclaims, “I believe!” Despite that everyone is telling me my experience can’t be true because it doesn’t match how they’ve been taught to see, I still believe. I believe that this light can, indeed, cast away darkness and spiritual blindness, cast away shadows, cast away death.
In these fearful days that blur together and have no clear endpoint, in this shadow of death in which we are walking, friends, I pray that we, too, would fear no evil, that we, too, would find it in us to proclaim, “I believe” – believe that this virus, in all its aggression and elusiveness and mystery, may threaten to block the Light of the World from our view, but in the end, it cannot. Believe that though the devil may just be waiting for us to succumb to that darkness so that he can pounce in to erode our faith – he cannot. Because the Light of the World shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not, cannot, and will not overcome it. That light shines brightly in the steadfastness of “essential workers,” still doing all they can to provide our basic needs. It shines in neighbors who have never spoken before shouting “hello!” across the street because any contact is better than nothing. It shines in finding new routines to get us through the day, and in finding new and creative ways to connect with one another. It shines in discovering that when all the other places we have turned for sustenance and hope have disappeared, the voice of Christ can only stand to grow louder and stronger – because we know that no virus can ever silence that voice. We may lose some of the means by which we are used to hearing it, like in Holy Communion, but no virus can change the promises of baptism, and the Word proclaimed – and I assure you that these means of grace are not in any way hampered by this! COVID-19 cannot silence God’s amazing grace.
“I am the light of the world,” Jesus promises. And indeed he is the light no darkness can overcome. May we, as children of the light, never cease looking for that light. The devil cannot and will not win this round or any, as long as that light is in the world!
Let us pray… Light of the world, shine your light into this dark time – shine it so brightly we cannot miss it! Keep the darkness and the devil at bay, and equip us to be your light to those who need it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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