91. Fourth Sunday of Lent

Meditations no. 137 (unofficial computer-aided translation)

Joy at the nearness of Redemption.

We are now well into Lent. Today there are flowers on the altars, and a call to joy rings out in the texts of the liturgy: “Laetare” - rejoice, Jerusalem! Be glad for her, you who love her; rejoice with her, you who mourned for her, and you will find contentment.

Jesus continues his journey towards the Holy City. The moment he has longed for, when he will embrace the Cross, is now drawing near, and the Church is filled with joy at the thought of the redemption of mankind. Brethren, once you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Praise the Lord, for the Lord is good. Sing to his name, for he is gracious!

In suggesting that we meditate on these passages of the life of Christ, the Church reminds us that during Lent, when we recognize our sins, our wretchedness and our need for purification, there is also room for joy. Lent is a time for both bravery and joy; we have to fill ourselves with courage, for the grace of God will not fail us. God will be at our side. Today, without ceasing to practise our spirit of penance, we should be especially filled with the joy and peace which the Lord in his divine generosity bestows upon us. Not even sorrow for our sins, however many they may be, can rob us of our happiness, because God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.

We feel the nearness of God’s forgiveness, his mercy, his compassion and his superabundant grace. In a short while, the mystery of our salvation will reach its fulfilment. If we are feeling tired in our struggle, now is the time to renew our strength. If at any stage we have been afraid of penance and expiation, let us now be filled with courage at the thought that time is short, and the reward is great - indeed, out of all proportion to our meagre efforts. Let us follow Jesus joyfully to Jerusalem, to Calvary and the Cross. Is it not true that as soon as you cease to be afraid of the Cross, of what people call the Cross, when you set your will to accept the Will of God, then you find happiness, and all your worries, all your sufferings, physical or moral, pass away?

Truly the Cross of Jesus is gentle and lovable. There sorrows cease to count; there is only the joy of knowing that we are co-redeemers with Him.

Trust in God, who is always ready to forgive us.

Near the Temple in Jerusalem a poor man, who had been blind since birth, used to beg for alms. And one Sabbath day Jesus went by. St Augustine says: Looking deeply into the meaning of this event, we can say that the blind man represents the human race. The first man was struck blind because of sin, which is the origin of both death and wickedness for all.

Each and every one of us can find ourselves in some way in the same situation as that blind man. Jesus went by. With him were the disciples who were following their Lord closely. Don’t be surprised, my child, if at some stage in your life, when you are serving the Church, other disciples of the Lord - who are good, well-intentioned people, apostles like yourself - say something similar to what we are about to hear on the lips of the first Twelve.

The disciples said: Quis peccavit, hic aut parentes eius? Who sinned, this man or his parents?

Look how they interpret this man’s misfortune. And you know the Master’s reply: It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him.

The works of God can be made manifest in us not only when we find how limited our personal talents are, but also through our mistakes and failures, if we are humble and try to be sorry and put things right. Then God’s power will shine in us, giving us new grace. If we are blind, it is our Lord who tells us: As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world. Christ is the light we need, and he is close beside us. Listen to his promise, St Augustine tells us, and don’t imagine he is not there, for he said, “Know that I am with you.” Until when? We who are alive today will be kept from anguish, and should try as far as possible to pass on absolute security to those who will come after us, by these words: “I am with you always, to the close of the age.”

Nothing should be able to upset us. Jesus Christ is always ready to give us his grace, and wash away our failings with his mercy. All he asks us for is repentance, sorrow and contrition. How do you explain this confident prayer - this knowledge that we shall not perish in the battle? It is a conviction that is rooted in something which is always a cause of wonder to me: our divine filiation. The Lord, who during this Lent is asking us to change, is not a tyrannical master or a rigid and implacable judge: he is God our Father. He speaks to us about our lack of generosity, our sins, our mistakes; but he does so in order to free us from them, to promise us his friendship and his love.

Showing our trust in God.

Our sins were the cause of the Passion: of that torture which disfigured the most lovable countenance of Jesus, perfectus Deus, perfectus homo, perfect God and perfect Man. And again it is our wretchedness that impedes us now from contemplating our Lord, and makes his figure appear dark and distorted.

When our sight is blurred, when our eyes are clouded, we need to go to the light. And Christ has said: Ego sum lux mundi, I am the light of the world. And he adds: He that follows me walks not in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

While Jesus spoke, the blind man felt the Master’s eyes fixing upon on his own. Our Lord spat on the ground and made clay of the spittle and anointed the man’s eyes with the clay, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.”

Without hesitation or doubt, the beggar got up quickly and hurried away. I’ll carry on reading the Gospel, our Father says. Abiit ergo et lavit et venit videns: he went off and washed, and came back with light in his eyes. My child, what a lesson we are living through! It’s a lesson in faith, living, operative faith; and a lesson in obedience. Is that how you behave with regard to God’s commandments, when so often you are blind, when you have no light for the affairs of your soul? At such times, do you turn to the person who stands in God’s place?

Our blindness, and all our personal failings, are an evil to which we need to apply the remedy. We can do nothing ourselves, but we can rely on God’s almighty power, if we are humble and obey. Look at that poor blind man. What power could the water possess, to cure people’s eyes when they washed in it? But that man believed, and did what he was told. You need to do the same. Your faith should be a faith with deeds, from now on; a faith that shows in the way you behave, your promptness to obey, and your conviction that you will achieve the goals set for you by the person who commands in God’s name.

The water in the pool of Siloam remained water, and the clay remained clay. The beggar, filled with light because he had done what he was told, sang aloud of the wonders of the Lord. The neighbours and those who had seen him before as a beggar, said, “Is not this the man who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is he”; others said, “No, but he is like him.” He said, “I am the man … The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash’; so I went and washed and received my sight.”

We too can sing God’s praises, for he will also work wonders in our lives; especially if we appeal to our Lady’s intercession. Without our Mother’s aid, our Father asks, how can we manage to keep up our daily struggle? And he adds, addressing each of us individually: Do you seek it constantly?