February 27, 2022 (Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time)

“Is There a Beam in My Eye?”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

Have you ever been completely baffled by someone’s stance? How on earth – at least the earth you live on – could someone think that? Seems like a more and more common experience these days, doesn’t it? And it’s not just a curiosity. It’s the cause of great pain, even war.

It’s easy for us to see people’s blind spots. Except our own. It doesn’t seem like we’re missing anything, but why do we see reality so differently from that other person?

We’ve all got splinters and beams in our eyes that cause blind spots. Maybe those beams in our eyes grow gradually like myopia or cataracts, so gradually that we don’t notice. What are my blind spots? If I knew, they wouldn’t be blind, right? How can I discover them? I can ask people I trust. You know, the people who are willing to tell me I’ve got spinach in my teeth. Oh, and I think you’ve got a wooden beam in your eye. Not sure, though, because I’m having trouble seeing past mine.

I can also ask people I don’t know or trust. I can seek out new knowledge about how the world and people work. February’s Black History Month and March’s Women’s History month are great opportunities for new insight. Some of you took the opportunity last week to hear the gospel preached by Black women at the Protestant Beyonce Mass. If you did, please tell me or email me about your experience. Speaking of Black women and history, if you haven’t heard of Ketanji Brown Jackson yet, she just became the first Black woman nominated to the Supreme Court. What a great time to learn about her and other Black women judges.

If I’m looking for my blind spots, I can also ask what the downsides of my strengths are: I’m good at seeing this, which might mean I’m not so good at seeing that. I can pray. And pray some more. And then really pray, letting God know I’m willing to see the truth.

But do I want to know what my blind spots are? Not really. I don’t want to be reminded how imperfect I am. I don’t want to be reminded that others don’t see me as perfect. I don’t want to change. I don’t want to have to admit I’m wrong about something. So maybe my blind spots are just symptoms of more basic problems and resistance. The beam is that resistance.

When I was in 3rd grade, I noticed I wasn’t able to read the chalk board very well anymore. I’d find all kinds of things to throw into the trash can by the teacher’s desk so I could get a closer look at the board. I remember tearing little pieces of paper from my crayons to throw away. I must have looked ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I admit that I needed glasses? Was I afraid of being called four eyes? I can’t remember what I was thinking or feeling. Finally, I don’t remember why – maybe my teacher said something to my parents – my mom took me – and my brother and sister – to the eye doctor, and we all walked out with glasses to discover a beautiful, clear, colorful world. We’d had no idea what we’d been missing.

If I can remember that childhood joy, maybe I’ll be willing to do the work of discovering my blind spots. But how can I remove them? Sometimes the revelation is enough. But often habit keeps getting in the way. I take the beam out then discover it’s grown back in. I didn’t get it at the root. Ouch. That really sounds painful, doesn’t it, removing the disease underlying my blind spots?

The truth is we can’t remove our blind spots or the underlying causes. But God can. We begin Lent this Wednesday. Lent isn’t a time to punish ourselves or to do painful surgery. Rather, it’s a time to joyfully allow God to remove our blind spots. Sure, there may be pain involved, but God is with us and there’s freedom on the other side.

This Lent, we can celebrate confession or reconciliation, allowing God to remove our guilt and our sinfulness. Sin obscures our vision of what is right and wrong and weakens our ability to reach for the good. We should probably throw ashes in each other’s eyes on Wednesday to remind ourselves of our blindness.

During Lent, we gather together for the Sunday eucharist, the ultimate eye opener. As we break open the scriptures, our eyes are opened to God’s action in our lives, especially if we’re willing to look at the world through the lens of the gospel rather than look at the gospel through our worldly lens and preconceived ideas. At the eucharist, we break bread together, seeing Christ and each other as if for the first time. Beginning next Sunday, members of our diocese who aren’t sick or vulnerable are asked to once again take up the obligation to gather for the eucharist each Sunday.

Our small groups are always a core Stanford Catholic way to have our eyes opened. We come together with our sisters and brothers to let the scriptures shine Christ’s light into our hearts and lives. This Lent, we have our road trip, both online and in person, to the great Religious Education Congress. What a fantastic way to open our minds and hearts to new ideas and experiences. We have our silent retreat. To paraphrase today’s reading from Sirach, when we speak our blind spots are revealed to others. When we listen to God in the silence, our blind spots and God’s compassion are revealed to us.

We also walk together this Lent in some other particular ways. Everyone will have the opportunity today to take home a free copy of this book, Rediscovering Jesus. It has 40 brief reflections, perfect for the 40 days of Lent. Inside your book, you’ll find your own rice bowl. Most of you are familiar with these sort of easy to assemble paper bowls from Catholic Relief Services that help us take the Lenten journey with our brothers and sisters in need all over the world. You’ll also find a bookmark with our Stanford Lent schedule, highlighting the many possible vistas along our Lenten journey together toward greater vision of God’s huge love for us.

As Lent progresses, so does our synodal journey together. Many of us have had our eyes opened in the listening circles. I’m so grateful for my listening circle experience. I was surprised and amazed by the depth of joy and hope for change that we expressed about our Church. I feel renewed. It’s not too late to do the survey, due by Saturday. I bet you’ll be surprised by this eye-opening experience. This Lent, we’ll be looking more deeply at the discoveries from the circles and surveys.

Along our Lenten way, if we’re willing, surely God will open our eyes, revealing some of our own false, even bizarre ideas. Most of all, God will enable us to more clearly and fully see one another. Maybe the more clearly we see each other as fellow travelers made in God’s image, the less we’ll need to figure out why on earth they have such bizarre ideas about the world and the Church. We don’t need to understand them. We just need to see them and to understand that they’re made in God’s image.

May our Lenten journey together open our eyes and hearts so that we will be ready to celebrate the Easter season of light with dazzling clarity, color, and compassion.