My mum purchased the fabric for her wedding dress from the House of Franke Stuart in Glenferrie Road, Hawthorn, so I always pay particular attention when I pass it by. And as I walked past the other day, a woman was leaving the shop with the most exquisite diamante encrusted rose pink fabric. We started to chat, and she said she was buying the fabric because it was a momentous day for her. At that moment I thought, hmm, there’s a story here but I was on my way to a meeting and I very nearly walked on. But I stopped, and this is her story.

She started by observing that you read about these stories of people who have been estranged for years and then something happens and peace reigns – and this has happened for her. For many years she and her brother had been bitterly estranged. Her brother had been very angry about something that had happened in the family and about his life. In response to this she had done the only thing she knew, in her words she ‘surrounded him with love’. She held him in love and thought of him with love. So, every cross word, every cross email, every unpleasant encounter was met by her with loving kindness. Eventually, she knows that her love broke through because she and her brother are now at peace. So much so, that on the day I met her they were to meet, and a family wedding was on the horizon. Hence the fabric!

I was moved by this story – as was the woman as she shared it with me. It was a graced moment and I was humbled by this encounter. Here was someone who knew in her bones that the only way to respond in the face of anger was with loving kindness. The only way through potential estrangement was to keep trying and the only way to heal was to be persistent in her love for her brother. This was her healing paste. Her heart was large enough to absorb the hurt and pain he offered her and she did not act out of it. She was, I reflected later, Jesus passing by.

She also reminded of the messages we are invited to take into our hearts during these last weeks of Lent. That Jesus is revealing to us a God who offers water to the thirsty, sight to the blind, life to the those who are lifeless. Because this is a God who understands the workings of the human heart and the painful anxieties that may beset it. A God who understands the complexities of the longings we all carry: our longing for hope, for peace, for happiness for the path to be made smooth. For our restlessness to be eased.

On this fourth Sunday of Lent we are once again invited into John’s world of rich narrative symbol with the story of the man born blind. Just as with last week’s story of thirst, we know that blindness becomes a signpost to a deeper meaning. We may think about times when something was right in front of us, and we didn’t see it. Or the time when we were ‘blind-sided’ by an unexpected event. Perhaps we are reminded of those trust games that are sometimes used at leadership sessions. And I am reminded that Jesus is the first one to see – he sees the blind man as he is just going along. That having seen him, healing follows. That healing leads to transformation.

And I am aware of how often my eyes are closed to the wonder of the world. That there are times when I can’t seem to find the path to transformation because I don’t have eyes to see Jesus passing by. Because I forget that even after the darkest of sleepless nights, the dawn breaks. That when life brings us to our knees there is always someone who lifts us. That joy is always around the corner. That flowers bloom when the conditions are right. That beauty can soothe any restless heart. That gentle story from a stranger can be transformative. That generations of people of faith have gone before us with the sure knowledge that they are accompanied by a faithful and gracious God who offers water to the thirsty, sight to the blind and life to the lifeless.

In concluding his homily about the Gospel of the blind man, Pope Francis invited the congregation to: “pick up the Gospel today…and read it calmly at home, one or two times, in order to really understand what happens when Jesus passes by.” (Pope Francis at Mass, 22 March 2020)

So may our eyes be opened to Jesus passing by as we continue our Lenten journey.

By Cathy Jenkins