Over my desk there is a handwritten sign. It’s a quote many know, but it resonates at many points on life’s journey, “God is not a destination to be reached but a presence to be recognised.”
We are taught from a young age that God is all around us, in the trees, in the wind, in the sun rise and the sunset, and most importantly in the people around us. It is perhaps a simple concept for a child, but too often it becomes more complex as we enter adulthood and encounter the stresses that inevitably follow. Time becomes precious, pressures mount and people seem to let us down at every turn. Our faith can get caught up with these stresses and become a box ticking exercise to make sure we just do what is required to receive the graces that will, hopefully, help us find that stairway that leads to a better place than this one. By focusing on the rules we become blind to the reason and what it means for us right now.
In today’s Gospel the man has been blind since birth and so has the advantage of a fresh, new perspective more open to what he now sees in front of him when granted the gift of sight. Recently, someone who has been openly Catholic all their life told me they would not be attending our weekly weekday Liturgy of the Word with Communion because they would prefer to go to Mass, as that is where they see Jesus. Living in the western end of our diocese makes this choice easy with the close proximity of other parishes that do offer weekday masses. Our eastern brothers and sister do not have this luxury and liturgies with communion help to keep their faith alive.
Maybe, on reflection, they are the lucky ones after all. They are open and not blind to seeing Jesus in the Scriptures, in the Blessed Sacrament and, most importantly, in the people gathering to share this special moment with them. Despite the view of some, the numbers at our liturgies are reassuring and the presence is, at least I hope, felt by those attending.
Our precious RCIA elect are also like the blind man as they open their eyes, and hearts, to the presence of Jesus in their lives. They come by choice, willing to be open to what is offered if they truly desire it. Their Lent started when they began their journey to this Easter and the anticipation of receiving the sacraments. Their season of preparation will soon come to a close when they will receive the light of Christ in celebration of the Resurrection.
Our own Lenten journey is just forty days toward that same celebration, but we are not starting blind. The question is: are blinkers preventing us from seeing and receiving that same light?
The first reading from Samuel (16:7) reminds us: “God does not see as man sees … the Lord looks at the heart.” God sees our whole inner person — our capacity to love, to forgive, and everything in between. He loves us despite our faults and loves us for who we are right now, warts and all.
So perhaps the real question for us this Lent is this: when we look at others, what do we see? Do we recognise the face of God in the people we meet each day? And just as importantly, when people look at us, do they see something of God reflected in the way we live, the way we speak, and the way we love?
Because God is not a destination we are trying to reach someday.
He is a presence waiting to be recognised — here, now, in one another.
Do we have the eyes to see him?
