Lent Day 2: Sight

I just came home from my first day of giving up my car for Lent. As I walked through the lawn to my front door, I had a surprising sense of relief. “Now I can go anywhere I want”, I told myself. Now I am in control again. Now I can do whatever I want. But I was reminded that this is the very nature of what it means to sacrifice; that I can’t do anything I want whenever I want.

It was a very clear reminder that I am so accustomed to my lifestyle that I am blind to my unspoken narratives of control, which whisper their way into my everyday reality. In my fasting I am made aware of my typical self-gratification. I am made aware that I unconsciously feed the beast day in and day out whenever it is hungry.

I think fasting is holy because it allows us to see ourselves more clearly. And by seeing ourselves, we are also given eyes to not only see others, but to recognize the blindness of others. Why is this important? Not for reasons of self-righteousness or pride that we have done right while others are still messing up. In fact, it is not even us doing the good in the first place. We do not heal our own blindness – we can’t! Rather, it is Christ healing us from the inside.

So what is our response to our newfound sight? What do we do with our new ability to see the blindness of others? When we can begin to see more clearly the blindness of our brothers and sisters, we must remember that we have so freshly been given sight. That we, just yesterday, were blind among them, pawing out our pathway in hope that we find our way home – or to the market – or to our regular begging place. And from this place of compassion we can walk alongside them, knowing their pain, knowing their frustration, knowing their anxieties and fears.

Christ transforms us into seeing beings. In fact, Christ is the very light by which we are given the ability see. He is the light that exposes the nature of humanity’s sin and the structures of this world in which that sin has found a comfortable home: racism, sexism, slavery, consumerism, piety. These are only a few of the structures that we so blindly have participated in our whole lives, rooted in the basic desire for control. These are the structures that Christ came to not only shed light on, but also to transform. He has given us eyes to see that we may participate with him in this transformation of these destructive patterns of our lives and those around us.

Perhaps, then, we may look at this invitation to participate in this Lenten time of fasting is an invitation to see more clearly. To have eyes to see the brokenness in our own lives and those around us. And to move with a heart full of compassion to those we see in need, to those blindly stumbling because we have been in their shoes. And because we want them to experience the brilliant gift of sight as we have ourselves experienced.