The Blind in our Midst
“…many rebuked Bartimaus, telling him to be silent. But he
kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me.”Jesus stopped
and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take
courage; get up, he is calling you.” (Mark 10:48-49)
There
is so much going on in today’s gospel reading.
Jesus is leaving Jericho with a “sizable” crowd. When one is with a crowd, the herd mentality
sets in. The crowd is focused on one
thing whether it’s a long line at the store or at a ballgame or a concert; the
crowd has a common goal or a common interest.
In this case, the crowd was focused on following Jesus and not letting
anything or anyone distract them from getting between them and the Lord. Now normally that in and of itself is a good
thing, but not when one has such narrow vision that you ignore the needy in
your midst or are just plain rude to those around you. This is also a common trait of a crowd: don’t
distract the herd from it’s goal lest you be submitted to ridicule or
shame. For example, a fan of the
opposing team at a ballgame or someone who takes too long at the checkout
counter or someone who is holding up traffic on the expressway. Crowds have very little patience and even
less tolerance. And so it is in today’s
gospel. A blind man hears that Jesus is
coming so he cries out to him: “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.” Bartimaeus addresses Jesus with a Messianic
title, but the crowd has no time for him. They tell him to be silent which only
prompts the blind man to call out all the more to Jesus.
And
this is where things start to change for everyone involved in this story. Jesus stops.
He says, “Call him.” Jesus
singles out the blind man, and because he has done this, the crowd changes its
tune. They go from rejecting Bartimaeus
to encouraging him: “Take courage, get up, he is calling you.” Why did the crowd have such a complete
transformation? Why were their eyes opened to the reality of this poor
man? Well put simply, by singling
Bartimaeus out, Jesus had restored his dignity.
The blind man goes from being ignored and shunned to being recognized
and called by the Lord. He is given
importance by Jesus, and thus the crowd changes its attitude and their eyes are
opened as well to the marginalized in their midst.
We
sometimes have this attitude too in our spiritual life and our life here in the
church. We tend to be so focused on what
we need and what we want in our relationship with Christ that we tend to forget
those who are around us. For example,
and I mentioned this a few weeks ago, sometimes we come to Mass and are so
trapped in our own little liturgical bubble and we sit far away from our
brothers and sisters that we have no time to create community in the
liturgy. In fact, sometimes it bothers
us when we are forced to interact with those around us because we (falsely)
think that the Mass is all about Jesus and me when it really is about Jesus
making us a community, built up and lifted up by the sacrifice on the
altar. So no, we don’t celebrate Mass by
ourselves or in a vacuum we have to acknowledge our brother and sister sitting
near us because they are Christ in our midst.
Let
me bring this last point home with a story from my first months of priesthood
in my first parish. I love my first
parish. I’ve always said that it’s like
my first love that you never forget. They
taught me how to be a priest. And as is
the case with all loves, there are things that get under your skin. There are many wonderful and holy people that
I encountered there especially during the last Mass of the day, which was our
biggest Mass. I used to say that because
we had so many visitors since some called us a “beach parish” that the
parishioners would sit in the first four to five pews of our modest church and
the visitors that I couldn’t recognize from week to week would sit behind
them. Well, one Sunday during my first
summer there, my aunt and uncle (God rest his soul) drove all the way across
town to visit me and attend Mass. My
uncle sat next to a woman who seemed bothered by his presence like if she
didn’t want him or anyone sitting next to her. During the Our Father she would
not hold his hand. That’s not a
necessity so it can be forgiven, but during the sign of peace she would not
exchange the sign of peace with him.
It’s as if, like I said before, she was attending Mass in a liturgical
bubble where she could not be bothered.
Now at the end of Mass, not knowing what was going on in the pews, I noticed
my aunt and uncle and pointed them out to the community and welcomed them. At this point, the lady turns to my uncle as
if he had just appeared out of nowhere and says: “Oh, so you’re Father’s uncle.” Too which my uncle responded something like
“Oh, now I exist.” It was only after I
had singled him out that he became visible to this poor woman who I never got
to meet yet I’ve always wondered who it was because there are so many good and
holy people there that I love dearly there.
The priest singled out his uncle and the uncle went from being an unimportant
random person to an important relative of the priest that warranted attention
Yes
there are people around us, especially at Mass, the “faceless Christ” as Pope
Francis likes to call them that need our attention. We need to welcome everyone with open arms
and give them the dignity that Christ gave the blind man. Remember that when Bartimaeus finally
approaches Jesus, the Lord asks him: “what do you want me to do for you?” Of course, the blind man wants to see, but
Pope Francis pointed out in his homily this morning that this question indicates
Christ desire “to hear our needs.” So
yes, we obviously need to see. As a
community we need to see and not get caught up in our rigid ways so that we can
be a place of welcome, a place of encounter, a place where dignity is restored
to the marginalized, the sinner, and the ostracized.
Jesus,
Son of David, have pity on us, and help all of us to see.
