Born Blind

From my homily for the Fourth Sunday of Lent:

BORN BLIND

 

From birth his eyes had never

seen his Mama’s face

as she held him in her arms,

with tears

for the blind mistake.

Or his Papa’s worried love

as he came through the door,

those sights his eyes,

never did behold.

He had never seen

the sun

shining gold

through the trees.

Never saw 

the birds

In Spring’s green joy

to wing.

He never saw the grapes

at violet harvest crush.

Nor see the red of wine,

to cheeks bring a blush.

He never

Saw,

but felt,

those who at him

long would stare.

He heard,

but never saw

those who at his faults,

would glare.

He never saw a smile,

for a job, that he had done.

He never saw a dog

that with a child did run.

No color he liked best.

For black was all he knew.

The thought of red or green,

he could not even construe.

He never saw a friend,

with him together sit.

Never saw a laugh,

a smile,

or a loving kiss.

The awe of holy places,

in beauty white and gold,

his blinded eyes

had never to behold.

The orange and red of sunrise,

awakening in him hope,

his eyes had never seen.

Darkness only spoke.

So that day 

in darkness,

he sat along the way,

begging for the alms

that might his hunger stay.

The commotion he did hear.

A crowd was coming near.

He hoped some coins might come.

But better did he fear.

Alms of pride and arrogance,

more likely would be flung.

The crowd he heard go quiet.

A man he felt nearby.

And in the blinding darkness

The sound of spit

did fly.

He never saw the hands,

fingers,

he only felt.

The mud upon his eyes,

a strange, 

but holy help.

The Voice, 

The Man,

did say, with words

of love and hope.

the pool of Siloam go,

for there to wash and pray.

He stumbled to the pool,

to the waters edge he went.

The mud

he washed away,

in faith’s

blind assent.

His eyes,

he then did open.

And looking

he then saw.

The light,

The day and

Hope,

in wonder and in awe.

What followed happened quickly.

he saw,

and

he was seen.

The people were amazed.

To many

it seemed

but a dream.

But others were unhappy.

They did not 

understand.

They judged

this man so sinful

his seeing

they could not stand.

His critics now,

he saw,

their righteous

arrogance.

The man born blind,

he saw.

In humble truth,

he spoke.

“The Man who made the mud,

and to my eyes did place.

His Word I did obey.

And now before you face.

I do not understand.

But blind,

yes once,

I truly was.

But now

I know that Man,

a Prophet

is to all.”

So out they did him throw.

And hatred,

he did see.

Out into the streets,

from blindness did he flee.

Outcast once again,

alone he did go.

But streets no longer dark,

he walked, alive 

in hope.

A Man,

he then did see,

who smiling,

toward him came.

The Voice

he recognized

t’was He

the mud had made.

And looking

in His eyes,

of He who saw him blind,

he heard

His Words

and saw the Son of Man

and Love.

Lord come

to us

blind also.

So clearly

we think,

we see,

the sins, the faults

of others,

then whispers spread,

with glee.

But

blind

we proudly see ,

ourselves so better 

for to be,

in holiness and deed,

in loving charity.

But. truth be told

and heard,

we’re really in a mess.

So please Lord,

Please do come,

Bring light to our darkness.

My eyes do cover all,

with mud’s humility,

that at repentance’s pool

your mercy may then free

and open wide our eyes

to truly love and see

each other in Your Light

but most importantly,

You,

Your eyes

Your smile,

Your Love,

eternally.