LET JESUS OPEN YOUR EYES
THIRTIETH SUNDAY IN
ORDINARY TIME
YEAR B
YEAR B
October 25, 2015
Saint Cecilia
Catholic Community
Rev. Dcn. David
Justin Lynch
Jeremiah 31:7-9 Psalm
126:1-6 Hebrews 5:1-6 Mark 10:46-52
+ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Spirit, AMEN.
When
my wife, Beeper, and I sit in front of the television watching a baseball game
or the news, which is most of what we watch together, one of us may want to
change the channel and asks, “Where is the remote?” We look around for it on
the sofa, the table in front of the sofa, and on the floor, and usually find it
right away. But for those few minutes we are looking for it, we are blind to
its existence, even though it might be in plain sight. That’s a kind of
blindness.
I
will admit to being blindly in love with Beeper when I met her. I was
definitely not objective. The first day I saw Beeper, her beauty truly
overwhelmed me. I purposefully ignored whatever faults she may have had. That’s
another kind of blindness. And perhaps at
least partially because of that blindness, I ended up marrying her.
And, there have
been times in life when all of us, including me, have lost our way, as if
darkness were all around us as we stumble along, trying to find the right path
to reach our destination. We don’t know where we are going, and/or we are in
strange surroundings. Losing a sense of place or path, even temporarily, is
also a kind of blindness.
Today’s
Gospel is about much more than physical blindness healed by a Jesus miracle. Taken
literally and by itself, this pericope in Mark’s Gospel is nothing
spectacular. We already know Jesus can
restore sight to the blind. In fact, Jesus, in response to messengers from John
the Baptist, said specifically that He came to do exactly that. If one thinks Jeremiah
was prophesizing about Jesus in today’s first reading, the blind would be among
those whom Jesus would liberate. And Jesus
actually did heal blindness in other passages from all four canonical Gospels. So
what makes this story different?
First, the blind
man is identified by name, Bartimaeus, which means, “son of Timaeus.” There’s a
lot in names. Not only do they allow others to distinguish one person from
another, they also define us with an identity as a unique person. Our names make us important. Names call the
attention of others to our existence. Why was Bartimaeus so important to the
author of Mark? Bartimaeus is all of us
in the way we perceive the world. Although most of us have eyesight, as such,
we remain blind to many of the realities around us, sometimes by deliberate
choice, sometimes because we don’t care, and sometimes because we lack the
knowledge and skills to perceive everything that surrounds us.
The second way
this story is unlike ones in the other gospels, Jesus doesn’t touch the blind
man to give him sight. Here, Jesus proclaims that the man’s faith that has
brought him sight. That is significant. The word “faith” in common language
means to assert that something is true, even though that there might not be any
immediate physical evidence for it, like saying God exists, even though we
can’t prove it scientifically in a laboratory or like a lawyer would in court. But
that’s not how the word faith was used by Jesus when He spoke to
Bartimaeus. What Jesus meant was that Bartimaeus accepted and trusted Jesus,
and that’s what enabled Bartimaeus to see Jesus. At that moment, Jesus was
everything to Bartimaeus. We can see that from the fact that Bartimaeus threw
down his cloak as He approached Jesus. That is significant. In those days,
leaving one’s cloak behind because not only was it an article of clothing; it
was often one’s bed as well. So, Jesus meant something to Bartimaeus far
more than someone who would take away his blindness. Bartimaeus threw down
everything He had to encounter Jesus.
Thirdly, this
story is the first in Mark’s Gospel where someone publicly identifies Jesus as
the Messiah. The Disciple Peter had done that earlier, but it was in a private
conversation. Bartimaeus referred to Jesus as “Son of David”, an appellation
given to Jesus elsewhere in scripture to identify Jesus as the Messiah. You’ll
recall that on Palm Sunday, we proclaimed, “Hosanna to the Son of David.” In
proclaiming “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me,” Bartimaeus, though blind,
actually expresses himself as more aware of who Jesus is than the rest of the
crowd. Bartimaeus perceived Jesus as someone who would show mercy and
compassion by enabling Bartimaeus to use his eyes to see. And why did Bartimaeus
want to be healed from his blindness? His immediate goal was to see Jesus, something
we as Christians should all long to do.
You might recall the hymn,
Turn your eyes upon
Jesus
Look full in his
wonderful face
And the things of
earth will grow strangely dim
In the light and
glory of his grace.
And you might
recall the last verse of “Praise my soul the King of Heaven,
Angels help us to adore Him,
Ye behold Him face to face
Can you imagine the feelings that Bartimaeus experienced, when among the
first faces he saw, was that of Jesus?
Even though all of us are alive about two thousand years after Jesus
was, perhaps we can feel somewhat like that when we see Jesus in the form of Bread
and Wine at the Eucharist. When the Presider elevates the Body and Blood of
Jesus in the Prayer of Consecration, we can imagine how truly awesome and
wonderful the face of Jesus is. We don’t know what Jesus looked like, but from
the Gospels, we know something of His personality. He was the patiently
suffering, compassionate and forgiving servant. Think to yourself what the face
of a person with those traits would look like. That is what Bartimaeus saw.
At least wanting to see the face of Jesus may be a first step in
opening our eyes to what we should be seeing to make God’s kingdom a reality in
our world. What do we have to do to truly see who Jesus is? Most of all,
we have to overcome our spiritual blindness.
Some of what we do at church may make us
spiritually blind, because it has become so routine. We may be able to recite
the creeds, the Our Father and the Hail Mary, perform our rituals forwards and
backwards, and know the Bible cover to cover, but those things may blind us to
the spiritual reality of a genuine connection of ourselves to God. They can,
but only if we allow our spiritual routines to blind us to the essence of our
mission to make the Kingdom of God a reality instead of just an aspiration.
Today’s Gospel has the crowd telling Bartimaeus to be quiet as he was
calling out for Jesus to have mercy on him. But Jesus would have none of
that. Jesus told the crowd to call
Bartimaeus to Him, and asked Bartimaeus, “What is it you want me to do for you?
Bartimaeus said he wanted to see Jesus, and Jesus granted his wish. In our own lives, the forces of the world
continually tell us to be quiet as we call out for mercy from the unmerciful
forces in our lives. But Jesus had the courage to ignore the desires of the
crowd, and instead go about His business of mercy and healing. Jesus defied
immediate popular opinion when He asked that Bartimaeus be brought to Him so Jesus
could ask Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” Asking others, “What
can I do for you” is a way to avoid spiritual blindness. It is opening
ourselves to consider what’s going on in the lives of others, to give us an
opportunity to be servants that shower mercy on those who seek us.
When I see the Blessed Sacrament on the altar, I see Jesus asking me, “What
can I do for you.” My response is, “Everything, Jesus. You are the fountain of
my life.” Jesus asks this of everyone. We can accept or reject this
invitation. The choice of accepting His invitation to do something for us has
the potential to relieve our own spiritual blindness, to see what we would
otherwise be unable to see.
Seeing the Body and Blood of Jesus at Mass can open our eyes in so many
ways to things to which we as a society are blind. We are blind to racism and sexism. We are
blind to inequality of wealth and income.
We are blind to human suffering. We are blind to the powerlessness so
many experience in dealing with the basic aspects of their lives, like getting
food, shelter, or a decent job. We are blind to the ongoing damage to our air,
earth, and water. So much of what we
accept as “normal” interactions between people, and the features of our economy
show how blind we are to those problems. We often go about our daily lives as
if they don’t exist. For example, we see
an obviously homeless person on the street, and we go about our business as if
that person did not exist. We are blind to why that person might be
homeless, hungry, and without employment. We pass that person by without
stopping to talk to him or her to learn about what went on in that persons’
life that brought him or her to where they are, or what we might be able to do
to help. Or we continue to use fossil fuels, without considering alternatives and
agitating for political change to kick the oil companies out of the political
structure. So many of the things to
which we are blind are either the result of a conscious decision on our part not
to concern ourselves with the details, or perhaps we have been conditioned by
the environment in which we grew up not to notice or to avoid.
When one is ordained a priest, one
becomes, in the words of today’s Epistle to the Hebrews, become a priest forever.
As Catholics, we believe that the Sacrament of Holy Orders effectuates a
permanent change in what a person is. Once ordained, always ordained. Today’s
Gospel invites us to ask, “What kind of priest does the church need?” But all
ordained Priests are taken from among humanity, and because of that, priests should
be able to empathize with those who are blind to Jesus, and should heal and
mercifully care for those who yearn for the face of Jesus, as well as those who
don’t. Yes, a priest should imitate the Jesus we encounter in this story. However,
doing those things is not just something for the ordained priesthood. From the
day of our baptism, we are all priests with a small “p”. We can all do what
Jesus did here when we ignore a world trying to hush someone calling out for
help, and instead call that person to us and ask that person what we can do to minister
to that person, just as Jesus did to Bartimaeus.
I pray that Jesus will open our eyes finally to see the world that God
wants us to see, instead of what we want to see. Jesus illustrated in last
week’s Gospel that He saw life in much different ways than we do. In response
to James and John arguing over who would sit on the right and left hands of
Jesus, He reminded them that the essence of all ministry, both lay and
ordained, is servanthood. One who aspires to servanthood must take the risk of
asking those whom one would serve, “what do you want me to do for you?”
The response to that question may be something that seems trivial, or it
may be a steep demand. Asking that
question requires us to see other persons not as something at our disposal for
our benefit, but as needs waiting to be met. We should be actively looking for
and fulfilling the needs of others with the same attitude Jesus had when he
encountered Bartimaeus. We can only do that if we allow Jesus to open our
eyes to things we don’t see now, but should see. AMEN.
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