The Fourth Sunday in Lent-Year A

The 4th Sunday in Lent Year A March 19, 2023 “Why did this happen?” The disciples see a man who was born blind and this is the question they ask Jesus. “Why did this happen?” which really is a cloak for the question, “Who’s to blame?” And “how can I avoid it happening to me?” And we get it, don’t we? We, of all people, live in a culture of blame, where we are quick to point fingers, to misdirect, to criticize. It has become our default position, these days; the muscles we most often use in public discourse. And blaming is contagious. We see its contagion in our gospel reading for today. Jesus offers sight to a man who was born blind, and there are questions swirling around the event. And most of the questions are blaming questions: “Is this really the man who was born blind?” “How did he receive his sight?” “How did Jesus do this?” “Where is he?” This series of anxiously blaming questions ultimately result in the man who was born blind being driven out of the synagogue, so the one who received the miraculous healing was scapegoated. But then Jesus comes and finds him and asks him another question: “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” In these questions, the man born blind deepens in his relationship and his understanding with Jesus and in and through these questions, he becomes a disciple of Jesus. When I teach conflict transformation skills with a colleague here in the diocese, we spend a whole section on listening skills and how to ask better questions. We start by teaching people to ask more neutral, open-ended questions, questions that can’t be simply answered with a yes or no, questions that require greater depth and complexity. We teach people not to ask questions in potential conflict situations that start with “why” (unless they are asked in very neutral ways), because “why” questions often generate justifications and blame, and instead we encourage people to ask questions that start with “what” or “how”. By changing the way we ask questions, we’ve learned that we can shape the conversation in different, more life-giving ways. We can shift from questions that blame to questions that invite and explore. Our parishioner Jane Gilchrist serves on the Diocesan Council, which is like the vestry of the diocese, and Jane was talking to me about their most recent meeting, how they started with one question: “What does faithfulness to Jesus look like in this moment in our churches?” and then they had a lightening round of four minutes where they didn’t generate answers to that question. But instead, they generated more and different questions. From that original question-- “What does faithfulness to Jesus look like in this moment?” came other questions: “Are we more concerned with parish self-interest and survival or the gospel mandate?” “What is non-negotiable [in our church]?” “What does the church look like?” “What do we need to prioritize?” Who are we to empower to lead?” “Who needs to be invited to the table?” “How can worship look different than in the past?” “How do we want to relate to each other?” The list goes on and on. So, what does that mean to shift from questions of blame toward questions that explore—for us as individuals and for us as a church? I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if the religious leaders in our gospel story (and even the disciples) could have asked different questions? What sorts of conversations might have opened up if they had asked, “How is the glory of God being revealed in this person/situation?” “How am I or how are we being called to share in God’s presence in this?” “How am I being invited by Jesus to come alongside this suffering and what gifts of comfort or joy am I being invited to give or to share?” “Who is being ignored or forced out because they don’t fit into our understanding of who we are and what our call is?” What might our own spiritual lives look like if we start asking more exploratory (and fewer blaming) questions? How might our church become transformed? In what ways might our community be influenced? What would happen if we sought out the places of the unexpected presence of God in and among us and allowed those encounters to transform us? I’ve been immersed this week in beginning the search for a new associate rector for us. That has meant working with our HR task force on a position description, talking to the vestry about funding, and creating an interview process. I’ve also begun to have conversations with interested individuals. As I’ve been doing this work, I’ve been asking myself new questions. What new gifts (or old, unused gifts) am I being invited to draw upon in this present moment? What new lenses can I look through to see new and different possibilities? How am I being invited into God’s holy imagining in this moment? Where is the Spirit already moving in me and around me? What are the exploring questions that you need to be asking in your relationship with Jesus in this season of your life and your faith? I’ve also been thinking about the questions that we need to ask as a church. We’ve seen a rising of anxiety around our young families, and we have tended to slip into blaming-types of questions—“Why haven’t they come back in pre-pandemic attendance patterns?” “What’s going to happen to our church?” “How do we have a Sunday school program when only two kids show up for a class once a month?” I’m inviting us all to start imagining new, exploring questions. “What’s going on right now in the lives of our young families, and how might we support them where they are in this present moment?” “What are the unique gifts that we as a congregation have to offer them right now?” “How can we seek and find the presence of God in each other and in those we don’t expect?” “Who are we leaving out right now, and what might we learn from them?”