Tuesday, October 30, 2012

30th Sunday of the Year, 2012


And they came to Jericho; and as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great multitude, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside.  And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"  And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent; but he cried out all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"  And Jesus stopped and said, "Call him."  And they called the blind man, saying to him, "Take heart; rise, he is calling you."  And throwing off his cloak he sprang up and came to Jesus.  And Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?"  And the blind man said to him, "Master, let me receive my sight."  And Jesus said to him, "Go on your way; your faith has made you well."  And immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.  Mark 10: 46-52

Today we hear about Jesus healing blind Bartimaeus   Bartimaeus calls out, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me,” receives the healing of Jesus, and then rises to follow Jesus “on the way.”

We find Jesus healing diseases throughout the Gospels.  The performance of miraculous cures goes a long way to explaining the large crowds that followed him throughout his ministry, and for that reason I have no doubt these are real cures.  But what also interests me is the symbolic value of the diseases he cures, in this case blindness.  This is one of a few instances recorded in the Gospels where Jesus cures a blind man.  Another is found elsewhere in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus takes the blind man out of the village where he find him, out to the “wilderness” where he heals him in, but in stages.  The first healing is incomplete.  After this healing the blind man says that he sees people, but says they look like trees walking.  He sees them poorly, as objects, one might say. 

I have encountered cable TV documentaries where a Bible “expert” explains this as showing a weak Jesus, one who needs two attempts to pull off the miracle.  This misses the point entirely.  This healing shows a kind of progress, first from blindness to seeing poorly, then from seeing poorly to seeing fully.  This is clearly a symbolic representation of moral progress of spiritual conversion.  All too often our behavior betrays the fact that we see other persons as objects.  I recall one cultural critic lamenting the fact that civilizations tend to set up divisions between those persons who have rights, those who are treated with dignity and respect, and others who are treated as “two legged beasts” for the benefit of the privileged.  I think this image of a human reduced to the status of a two legged beast is has a strong kinship with the image of the “walking trees” from Mark’s Gospel.  To progress in conversion is to see and treat persons fully as persons, as ends in themselves, worthy of the same treatment we would have for ourselves, and to acknowledge this not just abstractly in thought, but in our behavior, in fact, in the words we say to others and in the way we treat them. 

So this physical blindness is a figure for spiritual blindness.  But there is an important difference between physical blindness and spiritual blindness.  The physically blind can see, as it were, their blindness.  And seeing their lack of sight they take precautions against their own blindness; they use canes and seeing-eye dogs.  The man healed in stages is also able to see his own blindness.  He knows that trees do not walk so he is able to realize that they are actually people.  His understanding compensates for his faulty senses.  

The spiritually blind all too often are only dimly aware or not aware at all of their blindness.  We are blind to our blindness.  We think we see fine, until something shameful happens that forces us to acknowledge our blindness and then in hindsight we recognize our myopia.  We see that we have trampled on others’ feelings, excusing our own abuse of others by imagining ourselves to be acting for the sake of pure and lofty motives.

In one of his poems T.S. Eliot refers to “the rending reenactment of all you have done and been, the shame of motives late revealed, the awareness of things ill done and done to others’ harm, which once you took for exercise of virtue.”  We have all experienced this.  To be driven by selfishness and is to live in the delusion of an ego that bends and distorts the truth to selfish aims.  A satisfying image of our selves is preserved by excusing our own faults while holding other fully accountable. 

There was a philosopher from the 20th century named Max Scheler who described what he called “the organic falsehood.”  It is a selfish principle, some self-concern or some notion of what is true that is clung to in such a way that it distorts the ability to see anything else clearly.  Scheler says that this delusion can become so strong that the affected person affected no longer needs to lie.  Reality is twisted right at the level of perception such that one see what one wants to see and hears what one wants to hear. 

Whether Scheler realized it or not he was describing what Christianity describes as effect of Original Sin.  We are all affected by our selfishness, and it acts in exactly the way Scheler describes, distorting our vision, falsifying our perceptions of other persons and what we owe to them.  Unless we have the humility and the courage to stand up against this twisted and twisting part of ourselves it will have a corrosive effect on all we say and do, every relationship we try to enter into.  Living sinfully is like going through life with dirty hands, where everything we touch becomes soiled and sullied. 

The way out of the distortions associated with sinfulness is pointed to in our Gospel by the indication of Bartimaeus’ reaction to his healing.  St. Mark tells us that he rose and followed Jesus “on the way.”  The “way” that Bartimaeus is called to is the way of the Cross of Christ.  Jesus encounters Bartimaeus just as he is about to enter Jerusalem, just as he is about to suffer and die.  There Jesus shows the way to be fidelity to his Father’s will against every inclination to abandon it.  In his betrayal by his disciples, in his unjust arrest, in his suffering and death he receives invitations to resentment and hate, and responds instead with forgiveness and love.   There he returns curses with blessings. 

At the center of this is the humility of God, the cure for all self-deception and self-delusion. To be humble is to live in the truth.  Bartimaeus embraces the call of Christ to renounce oneself, to take up the cross, and to follow the Lord.  This is the way of seeing. 

This is the way that Bartimaeus embarks upon in order receive the full healing Christ wishes to impart, and still imparts through the agency of the Church.  In its first days, “the Way” was the name given to Christianity.  St. Luke notes the first time the follower of Christ came to be known as Christians.  Prior to this Christianity was simply known as “the Way.”  For us, embracing the cross and following after the Lord means to go the way of prayer, the sacraments, examinations of conscience, of conversion whereby we learn more and more to put away our egos, our narcissism, our self seeking, in order that we may see. 



Saturday, May 26, 2012

Oakland Catholic High School, Baccalaureate Homily,


May 21, 2012

Echoing Angelina’s generous welcome I too, on behalf of St. Paul Cathedral and my brother priests would like to welcome all of you to this great celebration.  I am even more eager to extend my heartfelt congratulations to the class of 2012!  You are not quite finished, but you are almost there! Just a little while longer and you will be high school graduates and off to bigger and better things. 

The first thing you have to look forward to is a great, long summer.  In fact, as I think about my own graduation, it is the summer that followed it that stands out most in my mind: it was one of the most fun, even blissful, times of my life. 

Graduation means looking back on a great accomplishment that is truly finished, and ahead to something truly new.  And for the next few months you get to contemplate that and celebrate it with friends and family. 

As you look forward you can contemplate the promise of greater independence and responsibility.   For many of you this means looking ahead to being away from home for the first time, new friends, the exploration of new fields of learning.  I think also that this is a joyful time too because it is easy to imagine that you are leaving behind all that is familiar and tiresome and beginning something new and exciting.  I suspect that fuels at least a little of the ecstatic feeling that goes with graduating from high school.  I know it did in my case.  I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it is not altogether true, but I suppose your hard work at Oakland Catholic entitles you to enjoy that thought at least a little bit.  

It is entirely appropriate that we are celebrating your great accomplishment in the context of the Easter season, the time in which we behold the new life given to us by the Risen Lord.  Easter is for Jesus’ disciples first and foremost a time of joy and peace, enjoying the victory of Jesus.  But it also a time in which they prepare for their own mission.  Jesus appears to his disciples, forgives them, assures them of his peace, and prepares them for their mission in the world.  In that time following the original Easter, the disciples, like all of you, stood at a threshold.  Behind them was a time of being with Jesus, receiving his instruction.  Ahead of them the mission given to them by the Lord to put what they had received from him into action. 

The mission that Jesus gives to his disciples is neatly summarized in his own words spoken on Easter Sunday: “As the Father sent me, so I send you.”  And we see exactly how Jesus is sent.  He is sent into a world that is good, that is blessed by God, but which is broken and hurting.  The brokenness of the world is seen most graphically and tragically in its final response to Christ.  He comes proclaiming peace and reconciliation, and in return he is rejected and abandoned, even by his closest disciples.  And yet he clings faithfully to his mission to love and heal.  When he is rejected, he forgives; in the face of curses, he bestows blessings.  He persists unrelentingly in his offer of love and peace to an angry and hostile world.  This is his mission and he accepts the sacrifice it demands. 

This is how he is sent.  And so when he says, “As the Father sent me, so I send you,” we can know just what he means.  We are sent to bring to the world the healing that comes from Christ.  This is the mission of the Church; this is the mission of all Christ’s faithful.  To be risen with the Lord is to embrace the new life that comes from him, it is to be converted to the newness of life of which the prayers of Easter so often speak.  The converted person goes out into the world with the same healing purpose of Christ, determined to embrace the world’s goodness by answering its brokenness and confusion with love and patience, to respond to malice with mercy, to return curses with blessings.  This is what we behold in Christ; this is what we behold in his first disciples on the day of Pentecost and in their ministry that follows. 

We see further that this ministry is centered on what the Acts of the Apostle calls, “the breaking of the bread”: the celebration of the Eucharist, to which we in our worship are about to turn.  The Eucharist fuels their mission and impels them to embrace the mission on which they are sent by Christ.  The work of discipleship always draws its strength from Christ.  Christ is with his disciples as he prepares them for their mission, and remains with them as they carry it out.  St. Luke points out that in the midst of the Last Supper Jesus announces to his disciples as they argue about which of them is the best, that he “stands in their midst one who serves” (Lk 22:27).  In our celebration of the Eucharist we see that Christ still stands in our midst as one who serves.  Even now, risen in glory, exists not for himself but for us: to nourish us, to strengthen us, in order that we might conduct ourselves similarly, for others, for their benefit.  Even after sending them as he is sent, he remains with them to inspire them.

As graduates of Oakland Catholic you have been given great tools with which to bring Christ’s healing to the world.  These are gifts given to you for service.  The continuation of your development will lead you to fields of employment, to vocations within the Church or to family life.  Within these endlessly varied contexts you will encounter joys and hardships, successes and setbacks, opportunities and obstacles.  You will experience in all times and places the world’s goodness and its brokenness.   Your education has prepared you to engage these circumstances with a healing purpose, to make better what is good. 

This doesn’t mean that your education or any other aspect of your life is not given to you for your own happiness.  As Jesus prepares his disciples for their mission he promises them a share in his joy, and in fact we hear him telling his disciples, “to be of good cheer,” be happy!

They key to joy and happiness is taking up the mission that Jesus gives to us.  In one of Jesus’ most famous parables, the parable of the talents, the master in the parable congratulates his hard working disciples who have worked to increase what was given to them.  He says to them, “Well done, good and faithful servant.  You have been faithful over little; I will set you over much.  Enter into the joy of your master…”  These words indicate that to enter the joy of the master is to take up his work, to take up his mission.  And this is exactly what we see in Jesus’ disciples.  The men and women who fled in terror on the day of Jesus’ crucifixion now display not only a supernatural courage in going out into the whole world, but even joy as they face the opposition of the world to their Christian mission. 

As Jesus prepares his disciples for their mission he prays that the joy shared between him and his Father be in his disciples, and that “their joy be complete.”  The joy of your graduation is great, but for all its greatness it is still incomplete.  There is more to come.  Your joy will be made complete as you devote what has been given to you at Oakland Catholic to the living out of a good, holy life; a life that embraces the goodness of the world; a life of loving service to God and to neighbor.