Recently and much to my chagrin, the frames of my prescription eyeglasses cracked just near the nose bridge on the right side causing the right lens to pop out and fall to the floor. This was the second time in one year that my supposedly “unbreakable” frames cracked and rendered my eyeglasses to be useless.
Because of this misfortune, I had to make a necessary trip to the optometrist in order to be refitted for another set of glasses; as I expected, I was told the new frames would not be ready for about a week. This was not a great problem as I am very accustomed to using inexpensive “reading glasses” that I typically leave in strategic places around the house and in work areas. I keep pairs of these glasses on my night-stand, on the table in the living room, in the kitchen, by my computer in the office, in the car and just about anywhere I might need them in a pinch.
Our parish secretary and I share a similar need for reading glasses, and at times we find ourselves sharing the glasses we both have when our regular prescription glasses have been left somewhere else.
Two days after my regular glasses broke, and long before I was able to get a replacement pair, I woke up in the morning and, running a bit late for Mass, hurried from my room and downstairs and then made my way to church. Just as I passed the front office in the rectory, I realized that I had forgotten to bring along one of my sets of reading glasses. No problem, I thought: I will simply borrow a pair from the secretary, and so I grabbed a pair that I found in her desk drawer and then made my way to the church for Mass. Before making the sign of the cross in order to begin the Mass, I placed the borrowed glasses snugly on my face and proceeded to begin the sacred rituals.
Lord, have mercy; Christ have mercy; Lord have mercy, we all recited together as we concluded the Penitential Rite. I prayed the Collect, or “opening prayer” of the Mass and then proceeded to take my seat in the presider’s chair.
As the lector began the First Reading, I casually removed the glasses from my face and studied them for a moment. It was only then that I realized that in my haste to procure the glasses from the secretary’s desk, that I had grabbed a pair of fake diamond studded, leopard skin patterned frames that would possibly have only looked good on someone like Lucille Ball.
I must have turned ten shades of red with embarrassment at that point, but what was I to do?
I needed the glasses in order to proclaim the Gospel. As I concluded reading, the people sat as usual in order to prepare to listen to whatever “wisdom” I might share with them in the homily. At that moment, and motivated by a great sense of embarrassment, I decided to “explain” my choice of eyeglasses that morning. Fortunately the people at Mass formed a very sympathetic audience and they chuckled along with me as I described how I ended up with the fake diamond studded, leopard skin patterned eyeglass frames.
Feeling their understanding, compassion and mercy, I had no problem finishing the Mass using those fabulous, one-of-a-kind, eyeglasses!
On a more serious note, this experience has led me to a kind of reflection on the need to be less judgmental as I assess how other people look, what they wear and how they carry themselves. Perhaps too, I might be a little slower to sit in judgement over those who don’t seem to share my values, my religious convictions, my politics and/or my way of living. I can never really know what circumstances have brought someone to look the way they do, to act the way they act, or to live they way they live. In the end, it seems to me that what really matters is not the fake diamond studded, leopard skin patterned frames someone might be wearing, but rather what’s in a person’s heart. Only God can judge that.
And in the words of Pope Francis: “Who am I to judge?”
