Mass readings for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time:
Jeremiah 31.7-9 Psalm 126.1-6 Hebrews 5.1-6 Mark 10.46-52
“Let me see again.”
That is the plea of the beggar Bartimaeus to our Lord.
Why does he want to see?
That may seem a strange question, but I think we know that many people are quite content to not see. Consider what a first century beggar would get to see being at the bottom of society, and in this case, in an imperial backwater, among a population feeling oppressed and dispossessed! Consider our own reticence to see what I going on in the world; the internet can afford us all kinds of pictures of the horrors taking place around the world, the handiwork of terrorists, for example. But even closer to home, who wants to see homeless encampments in our city parks, even here at the edge of town? Jesus is known for his exhortation to people to see what is going on in the world; to see that their salvation is at hand.
So many are willfully blind.
We might remember what he says after his feeding of the 5000 to the twelve who don’t get it – “Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear?”
I know that here we are talking about a physical healing, but I think we all recognize that every miracle is also a sign and carries symbolic power: the more important “sight” that Jesus restores to us is spiritual – it’s seeing and understanding the spiritual significance of things, the eternal dimension of our actions and those of others; but most importantly, those of God’s. Yet so many shut their eyes to this; and it is our mission as a Church to restore spiritual sight. To ourselves first, and then to others so that we may see from where salvation really comes.
Christ gave this same mandate to Saint Paul on the road to Damascus. Paul then known as Saul of Tarsus is struck blind and Christ says to him,
“I have appeared to you for this purpose, to appoint you to serve and testify to the things in which you have seen me and to those in which I will appear to you. I will rescue you from your people and from the Gentiles—to whom I am sending you to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.” (Acts 26.16-18)
There’s a rich irony in the whole of this scene because, as we know, Paul was struck blind. He’s deprived of physical sight, but then we hear Jesus speaking in terms of his now being seen properly by Paul for who he is, the Christ. He talks about how he “appears”, how Paul has now “seen” him. The story here is then of how “earthly sight” has kept him from seeing what’s really going on; and how Paul needed to be made blind to this world to be enabled to see the truth of Christ.
It’s hard to make people see. Indeed, the restoration of physical sight may be more easily accomplished. When you think about the research done by the Canadian psychologist, Montreal’s Gad Saad, the challenge is rather daunting. His work in the field of consumer choice, but also in how human beings construct their understanding of themselves and the world makes it clear that it’s really hard to change people’s minds; you can show them ample evidence that their view of things is untenable, but that rarely makes any difference. They simply will not see.
The world is a big scary and often chaotic place, and we need to make sense of it. As Saad writes, “humans have an evolved capacity to engage in self-deception in order to navigate through life in a delusional state of blissful ignorance.” (from Saad’s The Consuming Instinct). They will see what they want to see.
Ironically, these delusions can run the gamut from “everything is great and we live in paradise” to the most conspiracy-minded, paranoic belief that our society exists at the edge of the pit of hell. Whatever the delusion, it makes sense to the individual who holds it, they live their lives accordingly, with every experience confirming for them the truth of their belief.
What makes the break from delusion possible is something like what happened to St. Paul – for the lights to go out. The delusion remains for a while yet, but the logic behind our self-deception no longer works to make sense of the world, and the chaos we’ve been trying to fend off returns. Nothing is certain anymore; everything is a puzzle.
This applies to secular people in our society, those who have no religion. The stories are common enough of people suffering crises and changing the direction of their lives. Some, indeed many, find religion in these moments. Not always Christian faith; too often other creeds and belief systems that are contrary to Christ, and so, destructive not only of themselves, but to others.
Now, are Christians, even of minimal, nominal faith kept safe? A good of many of us have a deluded idea of what the faith is about. As I’ve said before, the Christian faith is not a belief in a transcendent God joined to a moral code of conduct. That’s the belief of the Pharisees. We have modern-day pharisees, who like those of Jesus’ day thought they could make a friend and ally of Jesus, but finally reject him. Rather, our faith is about clear-sightedness, true clairvoyance, concerning the world, the flesh, and the devil; but also, the saving power of Christ. We are to see the world for what it is in its reflection of God’s glory in creation, but also in its utter corruption in the evils done by ourselves and others; but we are also to recognize Christ at work, and be joyful in the knowledge of our salvation through him.
But all this requires a brutal honesty about ourselves, the Church, and the state of things. We must see what is distressing to look upon in the world, and in ourselves, and make an honest assessment of what needs to be done, and then do it. There’s no point in seeing the truth of things, then running from reality. Rather, like Christians thrown to the lions, we must face the beasts and put our faith in the Lord.
So, consider the change in life Bartimaeus was facing in having his sight restored. First off, his life as a beggar was done – he could no longer rely upon that to play on the compassion of others. Also, he can see the world around him and know of its evils all the more clearly. No longer shut in upon himself, perhaps feeling sorry for himself and his condition, his eyes are opened to the suffering of others, to the deplorable condition of his society. But, of course, his eyes are also opened to behold Jesus Christ.
With his new sight, he could have chosen to simply say ‘thank you’ and then to head off into the world to make something of himself. Instead, he begins to follow Jesus. And I suppose, to see what Christ will make of him.
The Forward Together in Christ initiative of the diocese is an instance of our seeing things for the way they are, for being honest, and humble, about what we have done in the past and are doing presently with respect to the stewardship of the faith we have exercised here in Hamilton diocese, in this parish of Dundas. We’ve done things that have had the unintended consequence of diminishing the Church as a community and ourselves as disciples. We’ve also done some good things that are building that body back up. This isn’t is about laying blame or patting ourselves on the back. We are being called to a repentance that asks of Christ that we be healed in our spiritual sight; to look around us, in our own homes, in this parish church, in this community of Dundas and its environs, and see what is going on, and respond according to what Christ has asked of us.
The world is in a state of spiritual chaos, let alone suffering a variety of other crises that set us all to worrying about what’s to become of things.
I have to remark on this past week’s masses, those of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, the memorials of St. John Paul II, Saint John of Capistrano and St. Anthony Mary Claret all struck me as having a common theme of being men of faith and action in the midst of very troubled times: the cold war nuclear confrontation, the Ottoman Empire invasion of Europe and in the case of St. Anthony, a time of revolution and civil war that dissolved what was left of the medieval Christendom and laid the groundwork for the wholesale slaughters of the 20th century. And yet, all these men set their hearts and minds, souls and bodies to the task of evangelizing, catechising, and then bringing into the Body of Christ as many as they could with the knowledge that they were doing something more than charity. Indeed, they saw they were working to rescue souls from the abyss, lives made for eternity with God from eternal damnation. The stakes, as high as they were in the world, were even higher in the spiritual realm. This is what our call to service and stewardship as a parish and as individuals is: to see honestly, and act humbly, to thank Christ, but then also to follow him wherever he may have us go.
Amen.