Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Lent 4, Yr A)

HELP US TO SEE
(John 9: 1-41)

What would we see, Lord,
if you healed our blindness today?

Would we see you at work
in the ones we think to be sinful?

Would we see you at work
among the outcasts of the world?

Would we see your love
for the poor, the homeless, the hungry?

Would we see your compassion
for the weak, the helpless, the afraid?

Would we see you
in the stranger, the foreigner, the refugee?

Would we see your likeness – can we grasp it –
in each one of ourselves?

Help us to see, Lord. Heal our blindness today.

Copyright ©2017 by Andrew King

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Poem For The Sunday Lectionary (Lent 4)

BEGINNING TO SEE
(John 9: 1-41)

Judging, condemning and affixing blame –
things we like to do, but not why Christ came.
“Who sinned – this man? Parents?” disciples ask,
as if pinning blame is the crucial task.
But the crucial task, according to Christ,
is to heal the afflicted, to bring sight
to blind eyes and give new strength to the weak,
new beginnings to life where only the bleak

shadows of death once had been – maybe spend
less time deciding who’s at fault and end
debates about sin. Better to worry,
Jesus says, about doing good: hurry
to help while it’s day, for that is God’s work
and God’s way. So he takes clay, the dirt
from which we are made, spits, makes mud, applies
the raw mixture to the born-blind man’s eyes,

has him wash. And the beggar is made new:
he sees! Imagine the dazzle of hue
and shape and texture; miraculous song
of colour, of movement; the faces long
guessed-at now plain – the world reborn for him.
Some things still take time to become less dim
(like the blindness of prejudice in those
who knew him) but see how the beggar grows

in boldness and faith: an inspiration
to all who know that the new creation
is often grown into a bit at a time.
Jesus brings us new sight: new heart and mind,
but sometimes it’s slowly we understand,
and don’t always have all answers at hand.
Yet this man responds to Christ when he calls,
which is what God seeks from us, most of all.

And I am blind clay, unable to see
until you, O Lord, re-mud, remake me.