Remarkably, it's coming up on almost three years now since the worldwide launch of the Ignatian Year in May of 2021, where we marked the 500th anniversary of the Battle of Pamplona and its life-changing impact on the young soldier and dandy Ignatius, to its conclusion in July of 2022 with the 400th anniversary of his canonization. One of the delights of that celebration for me was the sharing of Cannonball Moments -- testimonies around the world from those who, like Ignatius, were traveling on one path and then, "two roads diverging in a yellow wood," embraced a new vision and mission for their future because of a transformative life experience or the heading of the voice of a vocational call.
"To See All Things New in Christ" was the theme chosen for that Ignatian Year. But, of course, long before there was Ignatius there was Saul, whose Cannonball Moment conversion we celebrate today. Our account of his conversion, filled with such drama and imagery, is one of three that Luke presents to us in the Book of Acts.
Saul had been a bounty hunter of the People of the Way, ravaging the early Christian community with murderous threats, imprisonment, and persecution. (Saul had been at the stoning of Steven, Luke tells us, giving approval to his death.) But a light from heaven flashed on that pathway to Damascus (no horse involved!), the voice and call of the risen Lord resounded, and Saul the zealot became a new creation -- Paul, baptized by a very courageous Ananias, scales falling from his eyes, seeing all things new in the Christ who had called him, filled even unto death with the zeal of a tireless proclaiming and living out of the message of the cross.
There's nothing like a convert or a sinner-in-recovery to jumpstart the conversation. People who have changed their minds and the course of their lives -- those whose passions and convictions are formed by new information or life experiences, those who have 'seen the light' -- remind us that transformation is always possible. What might we see today with scales removed? Eyes of awe and wonder? -- seeing with astonishing freshness and vividness the ways that God has been at work in our history. Eyes of imagination? -- seeing as God does the potential goodness in people and situations. Eyes of truth? -- seeing the brokenness in our own day or in our own hearts, naming it and facing it forthrightly; seeing a hurting world, begging for our gifts, our insight, our compassion.
When I left my local library the other day I noticed a collection box set out by the Lions Club for used eyeglasses. The label said: "New eyes for the needy." Aren't we all needy? What will we see when we commit to seeing with the new eyes of Christ?