Dear Preachers:

Prenote: May I suggest a Lenten work for you?  Each week I list below the names of three inmates on a death row in Raleigh. Would you consider sending one a postcard or note?  You might tell them you are praying for them this Lent. You may include your name and return addresses, but you need not. Jesus was a death row inmate, and we are approaching the gospels’ narratives of his execution.

As a parish community, let us listen carefully to what Paul tells us in Ephesians. He gives us a striking reminder: “Brothers and sisters, you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.” Notice that Paul does not say we were merely in darkness; he says we were darkness. That was our identity. But through baptism, Christ has changed who we are  – at our very core.

He speaks to our parish today, reminding us who we truly are. Lent is not about becoming something new through sheer effort. The voice of Lent calls us to remember the truth of whom we already are in Christ. We fast, pray, and give alms not as a self-improvement project, but as a way of clearing our vision –  removing whatever dims the light within us.

So, Paul urges us: “Live as children of light.” Light warns and light reveals. Through our Lenten disciplines, we hope the light of Christ will expose what is hidden  –  or what we have preferred not to see: resentments, selfish habit, indifference to the poor, compromises with honesty, and other quiet shadows in our lives.

When Christ’s light shines and reveals what we would rather avoid, it can feel uncomfortable. Yet even that discomfort is grace. Light becomes a healing gift; it exposes us in order to heal us.

The passage ends with what may have been an early Christian hymns:

“Awake, O sleepers, and rise from the dead,

And Christ will give you light.”

This beautifully describes what Lent can be for us: an awakening. We may pass through life half-asleep –  distracted, spiritually drowsy. This holy season gently shakes us and says, “Wake up. Remember who you are. You live in the light.”

Does our parish radiate the light of Christ to the surrounding world? Are we being called to shine more clearly by addressing issues we have overlooked? Where is the darkness among us, and who is affected by it? How might we shine a steady light of compassion, justice, and forgiveness? By Easter, we hope we can say that the light of Christ has grown stronger in our community — a light that helps us see our needy world more clearly and shows us how we must act.

There is a strong link between the reading from Ephesians and today’s Gospel from John. In Ephesians we hear, “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light.” Paul is not merely teaching ethical behavior; he is reminding believers of their new identity. In baptism, we passed from darkness into light. Our task now is to live outwardly what we already are inwardly.

This transformation is dramatized in the Gospel story of the man born blind. Jesus declares, “I am the light of the world,” and then gives sight to a man who has never seen. The story begins simply: “As Jesus passed by, he saw a man blind from birth.” The physical healing, however, is only the beginning. As the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear that this is not just a story about restored eyesight.

The man’s spiritual vision develops in stages. First, he calls Jesus “the man.” Later, “a prophet.” Finally, he confesses, “I do believe, Lord,” and worships him. Meanwhile, the irony deepens: those who claim to see  – the religious authorities  – grow increasingly blind. They cling stubbornly to their certainty and refuse the very light standing before them.

In the midst of Lent, Scripture invites us to examine our own sight. Is it possible to be religious and still miss what God is doing in our lives and in our parish? We may know the language and doctrines of faith yet resist the transforming light God offers us this Lent. Inspired by today’s readings, we might ask: Where am I still blind? What truths about God, myself, or others do, but I avoid? Do I truly want to see?

The man born blind comes to faith in a simple way. He goes, washes, and gradually speaks the truth he is experiencing. He is a model for us. Change comes gradually. Insight unfolds step by step. We do not move from darkness to light instantly, but we do move toward it.

The Fourth Sunday of Lent is traditionally called “Laetare Sunday” — from the Latin Laetare, meaning “Rejoice.” Even in the midst of fasting and penance, there is joy. The light is already shining. Christ does not shame or accuse the blind man; he seeks him out, even after others cast him aside. Christ’s light is not a harsh interrogation. It is healing illumination.

Our parish community is called not only to walk in the light ourselves, but also to be light for those who are excluded, judged, or left in the shadows. When members of the Christian community reflect the patience and mercy of Christ, people begin to see that Lent is about stepping into the light — trusting that the One who opened blind eyes is still at work among us.

The Scriptures are clear: we are called to be light not in the abstract, but for real people in real darkness:

·        Those grieving or lonely

·        Those burdened by shame or failure

·        Those struggling economically

·        Those excluded or judged

·        Those who feel invisible

We may not have all the answers, but we can bring Christ’s light into the darkness. Light may be a kind word, a steady friendship, a courageous stand for what is right, a parish that welcomes rather than filters.

While many stumble in the shadows, even a small flame can make a difference. Christ does not ask us to create the light. He asks only that we let his light shine through us.

Click here for a link to this Sunday’s readings:

https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/031526.cfm