“Accept, O Lord, all my freedom. Accept my mind, my memory, my entire will. Whatever I am or possess, you have graciously given me. I give it all back to you, to be completely governed by your will. Give me only your love and your grace, and I am rich enough. I ask nothing more.”
Preparation for Lent in 2010 was a watershed moment for me. My faith had been loosey-goosey for several years. In fact, for quite a while I had stopped saying St Ignatius’ Suscipe prayer (which you see above) every morning—a habit I have generally kept through my adult life.
At that time I just couldn’t mean it, and I had sense enough to know better than to lie to God. So, instead, each morning I began the day with an old Irish hymn, “Be Thou My Vision.” I recognized I just did not see things the way God (in Scripture and church teaching) seemed to see them. I was not in alignment. I knew it. But my faith at that time was not strong enough for me to give myself over to God without more understanding of God’s view than I had.
The idea of the hymn came from an activity I used for a curriculum I taught. The activity began with two people standing back to back. Preferably, one person stood facing something that was not much to see—a blank wall was best. The other person looked out across the classroom and group. He or she had lots to see! I had a little dialogue with each of them.
“Tell me about your world. Your world is what you can see at this moment.”
“Uh, well, I see a wall, kind of beige. Some holes in it where something probably was hung. That’s it.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
Turning to the other person, I would say, “Tell me what you see.”
“Oh, I see people. They seem friendly. And water bottles and papers on the table. And across the room I see the street through the windows…..” It went on.
There was some teasing, as I made much of the difference in perspectives, until, finally, I would ask each person to turn around and look over the other person’s shoulder.
“Now does what the other person described make sense to you?”
“Yes” was always the answer.
Keep this story in mind as we look at the readings for this Sunday.
Luke 6:39-45
Jesus is almost finished with the Sermon on the Plain. He is still talking to his disciples—the people who believed in him enough to follow him, especially the Twelve whom he had just chosen to be his inner circle.
He talks about vision. “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit?….Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?”
He then moves from physical vision to soul vision. “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit….A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the hear the mouth speaks.”
The Sermon on the Plain concludes with a powerful admonition, “Why do you call me, Lord, Lord, and not practice what I teach you?” and the parable of the men who built their houses on rock or sand (Luke 6:46-49—not included in today’s reading)
When we read Scripture and hear homilies, what do we see? Our own point of view? Or the point of view of others? Or God’s perspective?
And when we speak—from the abundance or paucity of our hearts—what do we communicate?
Sirach 27:4-7
The brief Old Testament reading is from Sirach, a book included in the wisdom literature written in the latter centuries before Christ. Today it asks, in effect, how do we know what is true? How do we test for truth? And, how does the truth come out of our mouths, no matter what we intend to say?
When someone says, “This is what I see,” how do we know if the vision is true, even for them? How do we know if it is just a perspective?
Echo Chambers
I read an article in the January issue of US Catholic, “4 Pope-Approved Practices for Leaving Echo Chambers.” Did you ever yell at a rock wall and hear your voice echo? That’s what we often do on social media…or in our reading…or through our choice of friends. We read, listen to, and express perspectives of those who think like us, who see the same perspective—be it beige wall or bright room of people. What if we took a break from our echo chambers and took the risk of looking over someone’s shoulder who thinks differently? What if we took even more risk and looked over God’s shoulder?
Would wooden beams and splinters fall out of our eyes? Would we have a clearer vision?
I Corinthians 15:54-58
St Paul reminds us of the wider view that God has: Eternity. Death comes. But after death, comes Eternity. Even beyond that, God’s view is one of Love—defined often in our faith as St. Thomas Aquinas defined it, “Love is seeking the good of the other as other.”
God’s view includes looking over our shoulder and loving us enough to see what we see. God meets us there. But then, God invites us to look over his shoulder and see what he sees—TO GO WITH HIM WHERE HE GOES.
God sees what is good for me…AND….what is good for each and EVERY other person. Each and EVERY person in Russia and in the Ukraine. Each and EVERY person on both sides of every political and social issue. Each and EVERY person on both sides of every family or parish drama.
It is in this context that the final words of St. Paul resonate to me: “Be firm, steadfast, ALWAYS FULLY DEVOTED TO THE WORK OF THE LORD, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”
Conversion
When I had hit a wall and could not give myself fully to God, God came to me. He put it in my mind to make “Be Thou My Vision” my morning prayer. He looked over my shoulder while I prayed what I could honestly pray.
Then, on Shrove Tuesday, 2010, as I finished my morning prayers, I said, “And so, for Lent, I’m going to return to a practice I had years ago of going to confession every two weeks—whether I need it or not.” I had settled into a practice of going to confession during parish penance services at Advent and Lent—and maybe once in between.
That seemed plenty to me.
I did that and began to discover the beams in my eyes. I did that and began to let God, whose vision was 20/20, take those beams out.
I began to see through God’s eyes as my confessor sent me to Part III of the catechism, “Life in Christ.” By the 4th week of Lent I had returned to daily mass. By May, I made a general confession and started all over in my life with God. One day, about then, I returned to St. Ignatius’ prayer.
As you stand, back-to-back, with family, church, and culture, what might you see if you looked over the shoulder of those with whom you strongly disagree?
As you stand, back-to-back, with God, what might God join you in seeing if you described it honestly to him? What might you see if you looked over God’s shoulder? How could you turn around and look over God’s shoulder?
Suggestions:
Read a page or two of Scripture, the Ten Commandments in the catechism, or a papal document each day of Lent.
Go to confession every two weeks–whether you need it or not.
See what God says to you when you seek to see what God sees.
Prayer
Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;/Nought be all else to me, save that Thou art;/Thou my best thought, by day or by night./Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
High King of heaven, my victory won,/May I reach heaven’s joys, O bright heaven’s Sun!/Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,/Still be my vision, O Rule of all…..
And, once again, Lord, Accept all my freedom, my mind, my memory, my entire will…give me only your love and your grace…for that aligns my vision with yours and keeps me fully devoted to your work. Give me new glasses, Lord, if I need them.
