Suffering, Some Thoughts

I trust the title of this post won't be taken the wrong way, leading some to believe that my offering of a few thoughts will result in suffering for both you and me. At least, I hope not. No, at Mass this morning, as I proclaimed the Gospel, my aging brain entertained a few thoughts about suffering that I'd like to share. They're really nothing new or radical; they're just things I've come to understand and eventually accept as I approach ever closer to the end of this most wonderful of God's gifts, the gift of life.

The Gospel reading, from Mark 10, has always been a favorite because it focuses on that remarkable encounter between Jesus and Bartimaeus, the blind man of Jericho. Bartimaeus had suffered. After all, he was blind in a society totally lacking in resources to help him cope with his disability. Things are thankfully different today, but the visually impaired still suffer in a world centered on those with sight. But in the first-century Roman Empire, the blind, unless they came from a wealthy family, usually became beggars. The blind, the deaf, the crippled -- indeed, most people with serious disabilities -- were almost entirely dependent on others. Unable to support themselves through work, they were totally dependent on their families or the charity of those who passed by. Since Mark reveals that Bartimaeus is the son of Timaeus, we can assume his parents cared for him. And yet, given the times in which he lived, I think we can say that Bartimaeus suffered.

Now, what do I know of suffering? Of physical suffering, very little. Here I am, just a few months from my 80th birthday and I've been hospitalized only once, thanks to appendicitis at the age of ten. Other than that memorable experience, I've remained in disgustingly good health ever since. Have I suffered in other ways? Yes, but no more than most people my age and far less than many. But this isn't about me. It's about so many good people I know who have suffered deeply, but so often quietly.

When we consider Bartimaeus, we find a man who had likely been blind since birth, was forced to beg at the city gates of Jericho, and yet never gave up hope. He knew that the God of Israel heals, and such healings often come through the word and touch of holy men sent by God Himself. He had obviously heard of Jesus for the news of His acts of healing couldn't be suppressed. Sitting at the gates, Bartimaeus would have heard this and so much more about this man from Nazareth. Hope, then, filled his heart and when he was told of Jesus' presence, hope was joined by faith. My mom used to say, "Hope, once it fills the heart, drives us to faith." And so, hopeful Bartimaeus, once he experiences the Presence of Jesus, cries out in faith, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.”

He continues to shout his plea to Jesus and, despite the condescension of the less-than-merciful disciples, gets Our Lord's attention. Jesus calls him. Bartimaeus, now filled with faith, leaps to his feet, discards his cloak, the sign of his beggary, and no doubt filled with the Holy Spirit, ran directly to Jesus. 

Note that his response to Jesus' question is “Master I want to see." Yes, it's a plea focused only on himself, but it's a faith-driven, fervent plea, and Jesus heals because, "Your faith has saved you." Now isn't that interesting? Bartimaeus begs for sight, and he receives it, but Jesus' real gift, the gift He proclaims, is the gift of salvation that stems from this man's faith.

But even more interesting is Bartimaeus' response to Jesus' command, "Go your way..."  What was Bartimaeus' "way"? To go home to his parents, to share the good news of his healing with his father, Timaeus? To celebrate with the people of Jericho who had long known the blind beggar at the gates? Apparently not, for Bartimaeus chose a different path. This healing had done far more than heal him physically. It had changed him in his very being. For now, this new man of God, would follow the Lord on the road to Calvary. He would follow "The WAY" to the salvation promised by Jesus. 

I've mentioned this many times in the past, but I'll say it again: Flannery O'Connor is among my favorite writers. She was a very Catholic, but very downhome girl from Georgia, and if you've never read her, do so. She writes remarkable, and truly unforgettable, stories of sinfulness, repentance, grace, forgiveness, suffering, and salvation. And boy oh boy, did she certainly understand suffering. Although she suffered from Lupus her entire adult life and succumbed to the disease at the age of 39, she considered her suffering a blessing. As she once wrote to a friend:

"Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing and I think those who don’t have it miss one of God’s mercies.”

As I said earlier, I've experienced little physical suffering, but I've spent a lot of time with those who have. I've prayed with and for them, and sat with them at their bedsides, where we joked, laughed, and cried. I've held shaky hands and hugged tired bodies. I've been with them during their last moments, brought Jesus to them in His Eucharistic Presence, and tried to help them reach out in peace to a loving, merciful Lord.  

Yes, they have suffered. But they have also been healed of the cares and worries and sins they carried with them. For as St. Paul reminds us:

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" [Rom 8:28].

Yes, indeed, He calls us according to His purpose, not ours.

Let me share just a couple of other things Flannery O'Connor taught me and others about sufferings and healing.  

"You will have found Christ when you are concerned with other people's suffering and not your own."

...and then this:

"This notion that grace is healing omits the fact that before it heals, it cuts with the sword Christ said He came to bring."

I think both of these observations are worthy of our meditation.

God's peace...

Homily: Moonday 33rd Week of Ordianry Time

I have embedded a video of this homily below. Preached on Monday, November 18, 2019, the complete text follows the video.

Readings: 1 Mc 1:10-15,41-43,54-57,62-63; Ps 119; Lk 18:35-43

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Jesus cured thousands of people during his public ministry, but of all those He cured I’ve always had a special liking for this blind beggar of Jericho.

In today’s Gospel passage Luke just gives us the basic facts and then goes on to tell the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector. But in Mark’s Gospel this blind beggar has a name: Bartimaeus, the son of Timeous.

I don’t think you and I can imagine what Bartimaeus’ life must have been like. There was no Department of Health and Human Services, no Social Security to provide him with a monthly disability check, no charitable organizations to provide assistance or caregivers. No, Bartimaeus was pretty much on his own.

His family probably expected him to pay his way by begging at the city gates, and so there he sat, every day, wrapped up in his cloak, the symbol of his beggary, crying out to people, begging for alms as they passed by. But this day he hears something different, a large, animated crowd, and in his blindness asks what the commotion’s all about.

“It’s Jesus of Nazareth,” he’s told.

Now, he’d no doubt heard of Jesus – word gets around – yes, he’d heard about this prophet and healer, and so Bartimaeus seizes the opportunity…and he cries out, as loudly as he can. “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Of course, the disciples, who have not yet learned what discipleship is all about, try to shut him up. 

“Be quiet! This is Jesus. He’s an important man, much too important for you.”

Bartimaeus will have none of it, and continues to cry out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 

Jesus, of course, hears him and calls for him. In Mark’s Gospel we’re told that Bartimaeus leaps to his feet, throws off his cloak, and runs straight to Jesus. Yes, Bartimaeus is certain that something wonderful is about to happen to him, and in his excitement he can hardly control himself.

He leaps to his feet and throws aside the symbol of his beggary, that old, dirty, moth-eaten cloak. He throws it aside because he knows he’ll never again need it. That cloak is the symbol of his old life, a life of darkness, a life of begging, a life of slavery. And moved by the Holy Spirit, in his blindness he runs straight to Jesus.

Jesus simply asks him: “What can I do for you?”

And Bartimaeus replies, just as simply: “Lord, please let me see.”

Did you notice how Bartimaeus addresses Jesus? First, he calls him by the Messianic title, “Son of David” and then, when he’s there in Jesus’ presence, he calls him “Lord.” Oh, yes, Bartimaeus, this man of blind faith, was filled with the Holy Spirit.

Moved by his faith, Jesus says, “Have sight; your faith has saved you.” And then Bartimaeus follows Jesus giving glory to God.

Mark has a slightly different ending. According to Mark, Jesus said, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” And then Mark adds, “Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the Way.” 

In other words, he became a disciple. And it’s no wonder because he received a kind of triple healing. Jesus cures him of physical blindness, his spiritual blindness, and offers him salvation.

It’s interesting how often in the Gospel those who are healed, those who experience the intimate presence of Jesus in their lives, how quickly they come to recognize who Jesus is, while the apostles and other disciples plod along cluelessly. There at the gates of Jericho, the disciples were decidedly un-disciplelike as they attempted to limit those who could come close to Jesus.

You and I, which are we?

Are you and I like Bartimaeus, filled with faith, bursting with the Holy Spirit, and willing to follow Jesus wherever He leads us? Or do we simply go through the Christian motions?

Or are we, like the disciples, kind of “Jesus groupies” who jealously guard Jesus from those who aren’t as holy as we? Are we more focused on ourselves than on seeing Jesus in others?

These are good questions to ask ourselves today.

Morning of Reflection (Videos)

[Late Note: After watching the videos embedded below, a few folks have contacted me and asked what my comment about "The Godfather" was all about. During one of the talks (I think it was the 2nd talk), a cell phone in the congregation rang with the theme of "The Godfather" movie playing loudly. It wasn't picked up by the microphone I was wearing, so you can't hear it on the video. Anyway, my odd comment was in reference to the phone ringing.]

Our parish's Council of Catholic Women asked me to lead a pre-Lenten Morning of Reflection for the parish on Saturday, February 10. Designed as a kind of introduction to the Lenten season, its theme was "God's Call to the Way of the Disciple."

The CCW was joined by our parish prayer groups in preparing for this day. It was a monumental task and I extend my thanks to all who helped put it all together.

The morning began with morning Mass at 8 a.m., followed by a Scriptural Rosary in the church. We then enjoyed a wonderful breakfast in the parish hall.

After breakfast I exposed the Blessed Sacrament on the altar and delivered three talks on discipleship with each talk centered on a particular Gospel passage.

Each talk was followed by a hymn related to the talk's subject. These were sung by our three amazing and very talented music ministers -- The Grace Notes -- Dawn DiNome Wetzel, Becki Pishko, and Jillian O'Neil.  

After the third talk, I conducted Benediction and reposed the Blessed Sacrament. The prayer teams of our Emmanuel Prayer Group were  then available to pray over and with parishioners who brought healing and other needs. It was a wonderful morning and perhaps 500-600 people attended. I only hope that my talks were well-received. 

I discovered later that our A/V folks had recorded the three talks but not the brief homily I preached at morning Mass. I have included the text of the homily below since I intended it as a kind of introduction to the Morning of Reflection. Videos of the three talks follow the homily text. If you really want to watch the videos, understand that each is about 30 minutes long, so you'll have to set aside some serious time. Maybe they'd be good spiritual food for your Lenten meditation...or maybe not. I'll let you decide.

Here's the text of the homily I preached at morning Mass  -- Saturday, 5th Week in Ordinary Time:

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Readings: 1 Kgs 12:26-32;13:33-34 • Ps 106 • Mk 8:1-10

Mark's Gospel has often been described as a Passion narrative with a long introduction. And that introduction? Well, it moves right along, doesn't it?

Mark's sort of the Sergeant Joe Friday of the Gospels: "Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts." (If you're under 60, you might have to ask a more mature friend about Joe Friday.) Anyway, Mark doesn't waste time on what he likely considered extraneous details. He gets right to the point.

He even begins that way, No genealogies for Mark. No infancy narratives. None of John's deep theological insights. No, Mark tells us what it's all about with his opening words:

"The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God" [Mk 1:1].

You can almost hear him saying, "That's it, folks, the nitty-gritty - but let me tell you more just so your faith will stay strong."

And as Mark's Gospel progresses we encounter two themes, two threads that weave their way through the Gospel and converge in the Passion narrative of chapters 14 and 15.

One is the story of Jesus, the Son of God, and the suffering Son of Man, a life and ministry that moves inexorably to His Passion, Death, and Resurrection as the very fulfillment of all Scripture [Mk 14:49].

The other thread is the story of the disciples. At first glance it seems to be a remarkable story of the remarkably clueless. Moved by the Spirit, the twelve attach themselves to Jesus with little understanding of His teachings or what His call to discipleship really entails. Some, like Peter, James, and John, have moments of bravado, moments that end up as little more than cowardly bluster. Others remain strangely silent as they struggle to come to terms with their response to this calling.

Interestingly, it seems that the closer a disciple is to Jesus, the less he understands. That, of course, all changes at Pentecost. But don't see their spiritual struggles as a sign of human failure; rather, it's a story of God's success. It's a story of spiritual growth, of gradual formation, a time when the Spirit plants seed after seed in the hearts of these friends and followers of Jesus. Like every seed planted by the Spirit, these sprout and bloom according to His schedule, not ours.

Later this morning we'll look at three events in the Gospels, and see how the Spirit moved those involved as they responded to calls to discipleship. The Spirit can move quickly indeed, or He can lead us to the truth over a lifetime. And it's our response that makes all the difference. We see signs of this in today's Gospel passage.

4,000 people, a huge crowd, have been with Jesus for three days, and have eaten nothing. But we hear no complaints from the crowd, for in their hunger for Truth they have been fed with the Word. They are satisfied.

For them it has been three days of contemplative prayer, for what is contemplative prayer but placing oneself in Jesus' presence and listening, listening to the Word so He can alter one's very being.

It's also a time of fasting. But in his compassion, Jesus knows once He leaves them, their fast will end, and they will return to the world hungry. They will need to be restored so they can carry the Word to their homes, into their everyday lives where they can live from faith.

So Jesus turns to His disciples and simply states a truth:

"They have nothing to eat" [Mk 10:2].

"How can we get bread in the desert?" [Mk 10:4] they ask. He has yet to reveal that He is the Bread of Life, that wherever Jesus is, there is Bread. Yes, Jesus is the Eucharist, a gift He will institute at the Last Supper - the bread, His Body - the wine, His Blood - the gift of His Presence until the end of the age. But as yet they don't know this. Have they so soon forgotten His earlier feeding of the 5,000? Miracle upon miracle, healing upon healing, and yet they ask: "How can we get bread in the desert?"

Does Jesus answer their question? No. Instead, He asks the disciples another. "How many loaves have you?" [Mk 10:5]This, brothers and sisters, is a moment of grace and the loaves are its image. Grace is present because Jesus is present. It flows outward from Him to all who are open to receive it. But grace can never be a private possession. It must be passed on, flow from one to another.

Yes, how many loaves do you disciples have? How much faith do you have? Do you have enough? Are you instruments of grace?

"Seven," is their one-word reply. Does it point to the Spirit's seven gifts they will receive at Pentecost when the full meaning of their discipleship is revealed? Perhaps so.

So Jesus takes the loaves, but He takes nothing without thanking the Father. He gives thanks for the disciples' bread, bread meant for them and for Him, but now destined for thousands.

He breaks the bread, as He will break Himself in the Eucharist, and hands the bread to His disciples. The disciples distribute the bread; doing the miraculous, as the Bread received from the Church carries His miraculous Presence into the world.

Here we see the Church in the process of becoming, for the Bread it is given, the Eucharist - it, too, is blessed, broken, and multiplied. Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit, offers Himself, but His disciples carry Him into the world.

Jesus also blesses a few small fish so the people can eat an ordinary meal, the same kind of meal the disciples would eat with the Lord. This meal, this everyday experience, becomes for the people an extraordinary, miraculous experience.

Were those few small fish a sign, a reminder that Simon Peter and the others must soon abandon their boats, their nets, their lives and become fishers of men? Did the disciples learn this day that when they give all that they have - even if it's only seven loaves and a few fish - God will multiply it a thousand fold?

And what about you and me?

Can we abandon everything in our lives that is keeping us from true discipleship?

Can we, too, hand the loaves and fish of our lives to the Lord and let Him bless, break and multiply them - so we can carry Him into the world?

Will you let God work His miracles in the everyday ordinariness of your life, so you can be an instrument of His grace?

We are all called, dear friends.

Lord, teach us to serve you as you deserve; to give and not to count the cost; to fight and not to heed the wounds; to labor and seek no reward save that of knowing we do your holy will.

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We included meditation questions for each talk, including the morning Mass homily, in our reflection booklet. I gave the participants a few moments to meditate on the questions after each talk. The questions that follow were intended for meditation after the morning homily:

Meditation Questions -- the Call to Discipleship.

• What are some of the obstacles you have encountered, or are now encountering, as you strive to respond to Jesus' call to discipleship?
• How can knowing you are "loved into existence" affect your life and how you consider and treat yourself and others?
• Jesus invites us into an intimate relationship with the Blessed Trinity. What does this mean to you? How is this manifested in your life?

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Videos of the three talks follow:

1. The Call to Abandonment.

"...the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life" [John 4:14].

In her desire for new life, for salvation, the Samaritan woman at the well is filled with hope, a hope she feels called to share. Driven by this hope she reaches out and shares the Good News. Like Mary, who carries the unborn Jesus, the Word, to Judea, the Samaritan woman becomes an evangelist, carrying the Word to others.

Meditation Questions -- Disciple and Evangelist: a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

• Describe a situation when you have experienced being refreshed by the Word of God.
• God calls everyone to discipleship. Through those who respond He extends that call to others. How can you better respond to this call to evangelize?
• What aspect of your life must you abandon and leave behind as you follow the path to being a disciple of Jesus Christ?
• What does it mean to be a "God-bearer" in today's world?

2. The Call to Follow.

"Go your way; your faith has saved you...he...followed Jesus on the way" [Mk 10:52].

Faith saves, but true faith is a living faith, one that always brings forth new life, one that demands a response. Bartimaeus turns from his own way, leaving his old life behind, and follows Jesus on "The Way."

Meditation Questions -- Respond in faith: Your faith has saved you.

• Have you ever had a surprising encounter with Jesus, an encounter in which you recognized His presence in your life? Describe it. What was your response? Share this with another.
• What fears might keep you and others you know from following the path to discipleship?
• People are often like the disciples who want to keep others from Jesus. Have you ever encountered this? Have you ever done this? What is the root of this lack of trust on their part and ours?

3. The Call to Serve Without Compromise.

"...her many sins have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love" [Lk 7:47].

We turn to Luke's Gospel and Jesus' encounter with the sinful woman who washed His feet at the house of Simon the Pharisee. Yes, true repentance brings forgiveness, God's gift to those who turn to Him in recognition of their sins. In an act of thanksgiving, overwhelmed by this gift, ultimately the gift of salvation, she is filled with a joy that can only be expressed in her love for the Giver. She responds in love, ignoring the world and its threats, and showers her love on the divine Word.

Meditation Questions -- Response in love: she kissed and anointed His feet.

• Can love ever be wasteful? Can we love too much?
• What is Jesus' attitude toward the sinner? Can you offer some other Gospel examples? How can we follow Him?
• What does the sinful woman in thus passage teach us as we respond to the call to discipleship?

Doggone Disciples

Did you hear about the dyslexic, agnostic insomniac? He stayed awake all night wondering if there was a dog.

Okay, it's an old, tired joke, but it popped into my still half-asleep brain a few early mornings ago as I walked through our neighborhood accompanied by our dog, a little Bichon Frise named Maddie. She's an interesting little creature. Generally predictable in her behavior, every so often she surprises me by doing something unexpected.

Ready to Walk!

For example, it's not unusual for us to spend five minutes walking only 100 yards. Like most dogs, Maddie investigates the world largely through her remarkable sense of smell. Our neighborhood is home to many dogs and a few cats, but it's also the habitat of squirrels, rabbits, possums, armadillos, and even the dreaded coyote. And each one of these critters leaves a scent behind as it roams the streets and passes through the yards and common areas. Maddie, of course, must investigate these residual odors, every single one of them, which apparently linger for days. Since it's one of her few pleasures in life, I usually let her sniff. Sometimes we'll walk for an hour, but cover only a mile.

But the other morning, as Maddie completed her examination of a small shrub, she suddenly snapped to attention and focused on a woman approaching us. This isn't unusual behavior since Maddie enjoys meeting people and often sits down on the sidewalk to await their arrival. But this woman was more than 100 yards away, and Maddie wasn't sitting patiently but was shaking, almost dancing, with anticipation. As the woman neared, Maddie's excitement only increased. When the woman arrived, Maddie sat down and looked up at her expectantly. "She remembers me," the woman said with a laugh and reached into her coat pocket to retrieve a treat. That's when I remembered and understood.

Over the years we've encountered this woman perhaps three, maybe four times, and each time she gave Maddie a treat. She bakes little doggie cookies and takes them with her on her morning walks. I, of course, had forgotten her, but not Maddie. She recognized this woman from a distance and knew exactly what awaited her.

Now this was all very interesting, but not particularly surprising. After all, dogs have excellent memories. It was what followed that amazed me.

While Maddie enjoyed her treat, the woman continued her walk at a brisk pace. By the time Maddie realized her benefactor had left us, she was 100 yards away and moving quickly. So Maddie began to follow -- no sniffing, no glancing left or right -- focused entirely on the source of this good. For the next half-mile we moved as we have rarely moved before -- Maddie in the lead, tugging at the leash the entire time. We had almost caught up with her when the woman turned into her driveway and entered her home. Maddie stood still, staring intently at the house as if she were committing it to memory.

Later, as Maddie continued her walk home, once again sniffing and watering the flora, I considered what I had just witnessed. This little dog continues to teach me, and this time she offered a lesson in discipleship.

I thought of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar of Jericho who sat by the city gate hoping for a miracle. Take a moment to read again this wonderful passage from Mark's Gospel [Mk 10:46-52]:

They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. On hearing 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 kept calling out all the more, "Son of David, have mercy 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." He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. Jesus said to him in reply, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man replied to him, "Master, I want to see." Jesus told him, "Go your way; your faith has saved you." Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.

Blind Bartimaeus Leaps to His Feet

Like Maddie, as she awaited the arrival of the one who would provide her with nothing but good, Bartimaeus heard that Jesus was about to pass by and could hardly control himself.

He called out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." Yes, filled with the Holy Spirit, he called out repeatedly, loudly, and enthusiastically. Bartimaeus knew that Jesus, and only Jesus, offered what he thought he needed to be whole: his sight.

Maddie recognized the one who approached and knew her desire would be satisfied. Unable to speak, she simply danced for joy.  

Bartimaeus received his sight and is told, "Go your way, your faith has saved you." With that, Jesus continued on His journey to Jerusalem where He suffered the death that would save of all humanity.

But did Bartimaeus go his way? No, he followed Jesus on The Way. More important than his physical sight was his spiritual sight, and this, too, he received from Jesus. Before he met the Lord on that dusty road in Jericho, he was blind, unable to see the way he was called to travel...but afterwards? He dropped everything, including his beggar's cloak, and followed the Lord with the total abandon of the true disciple.

Maddie preaching (or yawning?)

As I hurried along behind Maddie, her little legs moved by a determination to follow the one who had rewarded her, I thought of Bartimaeus and realized that my little dog, like everything that enters my life, is a gift from God. And from her I can get a glimpse of true discipleship in action.

I came to appreciate that the disciple must ignore the world's distractions, all those enticing things that sprout up on either side of the path we are called to follow. When Jesus issues the call and says, "Follow me," the true disciple responds with singular focus. This isn't easy in today's world, a world in which we compartmentalize our lives, a world that encourages us to keep our faith private. But the disciple is called to "Go, make disciples of all nations...", something that can't be done in private.

As a dog, Maddie lacks all those human inhibitions that conspire to keep us from displaying and proclaiming our faith to the world. She simply decides that the good she seeks is greater than anything else the world can provide, and she just goes for it! Would that you and I could be so focused, so determined to follow Jesus on the Way.

Homily: Monday, 33rd Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Mc 1:10-15, 41-43, 54-57, 62-63; Ps 119; Lk 18:35-43
 
Jesus cured thousands of people during his public ministry, but of all those He cured I’ve always had a special liking for this blind beggar of Jericho.

In today’s Gospel passage Luke just gives us the basic facts of this miraculous healing by Jesus. Luke then moves his narrative along and goes on to tell the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector. But in Mark’s Gospel this blind beggar has a name: Bartimaeus, the son of Timeous.

I don’t think you and I can imagine what Bartimaeus’ life must have been like. There was no Department of Health and Human Services, no Social Security to provide him with a monthly disability check, no charitable organizations to provide assistance or caregivers. No, Bartimaeus was pretty much on his own.  His family probably expected him to pay his way by begging at the city gates, and so there he sat, every day, wrapped up in his cloak, the symbol of his beggary, crying out to people, and begging for alms as they passed by.

But this day he hears something different, a large, animated crowd, and so in his blindness he asks what the commotion’s all about.

“It’s Jesus of Nazareth,” he’s told.

Now, he’d no doubt heard of Jesus – after all, word gets around – yes, he’d heard about this prophet and healer, and so Bartimaeus seizes the opportunity, and cries out, as loudly as he can. “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Of course the disciples, who have not yet learned what discipleship is all about, try to shut him up. We can just imagine their words: “Be quiet! This is Jesus. He’s an important man, much too important for you.”

But Bartimaeus will have none of it, and continues to cry out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

As we would expect, Jesus hears him and calls for him. In Mark’s Gospel we’re told that Bartimaeus leaps to his feet, throws off his cloak, and runs straight to Jesus. Yes, Bartimaeus is certain that something wonderful is about to happen to him, and in his excitement he can hardly control himself. “Leaping Bartimaeus” throws aside that old, dirty, moth-eaten cloak. He throws it aside because filled with faith he knows he’ll never again need it. That cloak is the symbol of his old life, a life of darkness, a life of begging, a life of slavery. And Jesus is about to offer him something new.

Moved by the Holy Spirit, in his blindness Bartimaeus runs straight to Jesus, who simply asks him, “What can I do for you?”

And Bartimaeus replies, just as simply, “Lord, please let me see.”

Did you notice how Bartimaeus addressed Jesus? First, he called him by the Messianic title, “Son of David” and then, when he’s there in Jesus’ presence, up close and personal, he called him “Lord.” Oh, yes, Bartimaeus, this man of blind faith, was filled with the Holy Spirit.

Moved by the faith of this holy beggar, Jesus proclaims the Word: “Have sight; your faith has saved you.” When the Word of God speaks, things happen, and Bartimaeus sees. He sees His Lord standing before him. Of course he can do nothing but follow Jesus giving glory to God.

Mark relates a slightly different ending. According to Mark, Jesus said, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” And then Mark adds, “Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.”

In other words, he became a disciple. And it’s no wonder because he received a kind of triple healing. Jesus cures him of physical and spiritual blindness and then offers him salvation.

It’s interesting to note that in the Gospel those who are healed, those who experience a most intimate presence of Jesus in their lives, come to recognize who Jesus is, almost instantaneously, while the apostles and other disciples plod along cluelessly.

There at the gates of Jericho, the disciples were decidedly un-disciplelike as they attempted to limit those who could come close to Jesus.

You and I, which are we?

Are we like Bartimaeus, aware of our brokenness, but ready to let the Lord heal us? Can we hardly wait to get close to Jesus? Are we so filled with faith, so bursting with the Holy Spirit, that we’re willing to follow Jesus wherever He leads us?

Or are we, like too many of the disciples, kind of “Jesus groupies” who jealously guard Jesus from those who simply don’t measure up? Do we forget how much Jesus loves the sinner, how He calls them to Him? Are we more focused on ourselves than on seeing Jesus in others?

These are good questions to ask ourselves today.

Homily: Saturday, 15th Week of Ordianary Time - Mass & Healing Service

Readings: EX 12:37-42 • Psalm 136 • Gospel: Mt 12:14-21
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Good morning, everyone! And it is a good morning, for we’re here today to celebrate God’s gift to us: the gift of life itself! That’s right! We’re here to celebrate and give thanks for our very being – each of us created out of love by our God. You and I created and destined to share eternally in the Divine Life.

But that’s not all. In this Mass, as in every Mass, we especially thank the Father for the gift of His Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, Who took on our nature, became one of us, one with us, and gave His life for us. It’s through Jesus, brothers and sisters, and only through Jesus, that we can share in the Divine life. Through His tremendous act of humility, Jesus took the sin of the world – that’s your sin and my sin – on Himself; He is indeed the Lamb of God, the sacrificial offering who came here to heal.

In a sense, then, Jesus’ Passion, Death and Resurrection form a glorious act of healing, one which we re-present here on this altar. Every Mass, then, is a healing Mass, because of Christ’s healing presence in the Eucharist. When you receive the Blessed Sacrament, you should expect miracles, miracles of grace.

Yes, Jesus is the Great Healer. That was and remains His mission: to heal humanity, to repair our brokenness, to bring us to wholeness. This is the will of the Father.

And so today we Praise God! Praised be Jesus Christ! Praise His Holy Name!

And speaking of His Name, did you happen to catch that final verse of today’s passage from Matthew’s Gospel?

“And in His name the Gentiles will hope” [Mt 12:21].

How about you? Do you hope? Do you? I trust you do, or I suspect you wouldn’t be here today.

As one the great theological virtues, hope is sandwiched between faith and love; in a sense forming a bridge between the two. Indeed, if our faith is weak, so too is our hope. It’s through faith in Jesus Christ that we can hope, and it’s out of that hope, that hope for the gift of eternal life, that we come to realize our obligation to return God’s love by loving Him and our neighbor.

Hope. Hope is an expectation, isn’t it? It’s the expectation that God will fulfill His promises to us. God loves to make promises…and keep them. We encounter them again and again throughout Scripture. Matthew reminds us of several promises in today’s Gospel passage. The apostle recalls the words of the prophet Isaiah:

“…I shall place my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles…in His name the Gentiles will hope” [Mt 12:18, 21].

What a wonderful promise! Jesus, filled with the Holy Spirit, will proclaim justice and in His name we shall hope. Do you believe this promise? Do you?

If you’re here today to ask for healing, in what or in whom do you hope? Do you place all your hopes in medical science, or your doctors? Or maybe you look only to yourself, assuming you can heal yourself through an act of will?

Hard questions indeed. After all medicine has come a long way in recent years. And when you or I suffer from a chronic illness, the temptation is great to place all our hopes in the medical profession. A cure might be just around the corner. Yes, perhaps…and it’s certainly not bad to hope that science might offer you a path to regain your health. But by placing all your hopes there you, in effect, turn your back on God.

I think of my own family. One of our sons suffered from meningitis when he was just a toddler.  Thankfully he survived, but he didn’t emerge unchanged; no he lost almost all of his hearing. Today, just a few decades later, children are vaccinated so they won’t contract this dreadful disease. But back then, 40 years ago, we could do nothing but turn to God in hope and trust, knowing that He listens to our prayers.

As St. Paul reminds us:

“We know that all things work for good for those who love God” [Rom 8:28]. 

And St. James echoed this when he wrote:

“…every perfect gift is from above…” [Jas 1:17]

Keep that truth in mind: God is the source of every good. And what can be more perfect than the gift of healing, the gift that restores?

And so we return to Matthew and his reference to the prophet Isaiah. The question becomes obvious: Do you and I hope in Jesus’ Name?

Turn again to today’s Gospel passage. Jesus was confronted by two groups of people, two very different groups.

The first were the Pharisees. This day Jesus defied them by affecting a cure in the synagogue on the Sabbath. In their smallness, in their inward-turning self-absorption, the Pharisees had come to despise Jesus, and refused to accept His healing. How does Matthew put it? They “took counsel against him to put him to death” [Mt 12:14]. They did what evil always does. It seeks out other evil, joins together with it, and conspires in the darkness of secrecy.

And so Jesus “withdrew from that place” [Mt 12:15]. Was He afraid of them and their deadly plots? Not at all. Quite simply His hour had not yet come. Anyway, Jesus cannot hide when hundreds, perhaps thousands, are following Him. No, He wasn’t afraid of the Pharisees; He feared for them, for their salvation.

The second group confronting Jesus was the people, those who knew they were in need of healing. The Pharisees also needed healing, just as the people of Galilee did, just as you and I do. The Pharisees just didn’t know it; or knowing it, they refused to accept it.

But the people, oh, the people, they knew how broken they were. They knew they needed healing. They followed Jesus, seeking wholeness. They were like Bartimaeus, the blind beggar of Jericho, who cried out as Our Lord passed by: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” [Mk 10:47] That’s right – “Jesus, Son of David” – Bartimaeus certainly hoped in Jesus’ Name, didn’t He?

And we can only believe that the people of Galilee were overwhelmed by that same hope, for as Matthew tells us:

“Many people followed Him, and He cured them all…” [Mt 12:15] 

Many people followed Him, and he cured them all

Many followed Jesus. We don’t know how many – just “many”. And these He cured – not some of them, but all of them. Physical illness or spiritual illness, whether our own or that of someone we love, can be heavy burdens indeed.

But just a short time before Jesus had promised the people:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” [Mt 11:28].

Jesus issues this invitation to all: Come to Him, follow Him. He will take on our burdens, our weariness.

You see, in His humanity Jesus knows these burdens of ours; He knows our physical weaknesses; He knows our spiritual weaknesses; He knows the disappointments, the sorrows, the grief, and the pain that visit us. And He knows our sinfulness, the sins of the flesh, the sins of the heart, all that separate us from God’s healing love. He will take on our burdens. He will heal. Yes, in the Gospel Jesus cures them all, because they followed Him and allowed themselves to be loved.

True liberation from all that divides our hearts comes from allowing ourselves to be lifted by a God who loves beyond words -- from allowing yourself to be loved, allowing yourself to be healed. As Pope Francis is fond of reminding us, Jesus Christ is the source of all peace, the source of all healing, the source from which flows such gentle power.

Now, I have a question for you. Does God will illness? Does He want us to get sick or injured? No! Of course not. God doesn’t look at us and say, “You know, Betty’s been pretty healthy lately. I think I’ll get her attention and afflict her with, oh let’s go with rheumatoid arthritis.” No, God is not like that, for He is a loving God.

One evening some years ago I was asked to conduct a vigil service for a young man who had been killed by a drunk driver. As I was about to begin the service I heard a man say to the widow and her children, “It was God’s will. All we can do is accept it.”

Well, let me tell you, I almost came unglued. I approached them and said: “No! God did not will this to happen. What happened was an evil thing, and God does not will evil. The death of this good man, this husband and father, was the result of sin, not his sin, but the sinfulness of the world. Only God can overcome that sin, but if we turn to Him in faith, if we ask Him to help us cope with this tragedy in our lives, He will give us the grace we need. God didn’t will this to happen, for Jesus told us clearly, ‘I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly’ [Jn 10:10].”

Forgives and heals

Yes, Jesus went about that land of patriarchs and prophets taking this message and the remarkable gift of newness to people. Through a word or a touch, and often a challenge, He brought every kind of healing -- physical, mental, and most importantly spiritual. Through healing He brought to birth the Kingdom of God that has finally broken into a fallen world.

Jesus brings God’s healing power into the world, and offers a glimpse of heaven to all who are ready to declare their total dependence on God and their need for His healing, saving presence.

For those He healed, the experience carried them to the very limits of our human horizons. To these belong the peace the world cannot give…, as St. Paul said, “the peace of God, which passes all understanding” [Phil 4:7]. And that peace, that healing, was a real manifestation of the very core of the Gospel message, a message of forgiveness.

Jesus calls those who dare to be healed to let go of their anger and hurts, to offer and accept forgiveness, to embrace those we have hurt and those who have hurt us. It’s in this very letting go, in this embracing, that we find true inner healing, the healing love of Jesus Christ, the greatest healing of all.

Turn to the Holy Spirit, sisters and brothers, allow yourselves to experience new freedom in your life, and taste God’s forgiveness in the sacrament of reconciliation. And extend that same forgiveness to others – a forgiveness that’s so often needs to be coupled with self-forgiveness – so that you and they will be able to accept and experience God’s healing power.

“Heal me, Lord.” Let that be your prayer, today. “Heal me, Lord, of all that’s keeping me from being one with you.”

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever.

Homily: Healing Mass - Saturday, 14th Week in Ordinary Time

Healing Mass

Year 2: Saturday, 14th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Is 6:1-8 • Psalm 93 • Gospel: Mt 10:24-33
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A few weeks ago, as I was making my rounds as chaplain of the day at The Villages Hospital, I entered the room of a man who happened to be one of our parishioners. Normally my wife, Diane, and I minister together as hospital chaplains, but on this particular day Diane was ill and couldn’t join me. Of course, her absence means I’ll more likely say or do something amazingly stupid.

Anyway, I recognized the man, and we talked for a while about his illness. Then I prayed with him and gave him a blessing. I could tell he was both lonely and afraid. And he wasn’t all that comfortable as I prayed for healing. Right before I left, I asked if I could add him to the prayer list of those in our parish who are ill.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I don’t want people to know I’m sick. I’d like to keep it quiet.”

“Oh, okay,” I said and left his room.

After visiting several more patients, I entered a patient’s room to find it crowded with visitors. I apologized for interrupting and said I’d return later, but the patient, a woman in her eighties, just said, “Don’t go. Come on in and join the crowd.” And so I did.

She was a Southern Baptist and her visitors included her husband, a neighbor, several members of her church, and her pastor. The conversation that followed covered the waterfront. We talked about her family, her hometown in South Carolina, her illnesses. In her words, “I’ve got so many things wrong with me, they don’t know which ones to work on. But I really can’t complain; God let me live a lot longer than I expected.”

I asked if I could pray with her, and the whole crowd joined hands. I prayed for healing and peace, that God’s will be done in her life and the lives of all present.  We prayed for her doctors, her nurses, and her husband, and thanked God for the gift of friendship. We thanked God too for the gift of discipleship, for those who listen to the Lord when He says, “I was…ill and you cared for me…”

Before leaving, I remarked that she was blessed to have so many caring for her and praying for her. “Yes,” she said, “I am blessed. And their prayers mean so much. They let me know that I am loved, that I belong.”

Before leaving home that morning, I had asked Diane to pray that I would minister to God’s people worthily and well. She must have done so, because as soon as I left that room I headed back to the room of our parishioner. I sat down next to his bed and said:

“Your Baptism made you a member of the Church, a child of God, a member of a community of the faithful, a community called to love you. Let that community know you need their prayers, because, believe me, you do.

“The prayer of the community brings healing; it brings you to repentance and brings peace of mind and soul; it brings you the joy you seek in your life, the joy promised by the God who loves you. In your illness you are lonely and afraid. But God wants you to love and be loved. He wants you joyful, not fearful.

“Don’t let pride separate you from those who love you, from those who strive to be true disciples by doing God’s will in the world, work which includes loving and praying for you. By letting them pray for you and care for you, you further God’s plan for their salvation and that of the world.”

Those words certainly didn’t come from me. No, the Holy Spirit and Diane’s prayers brought them into being. Anyway, after my little homily, he agreed to be prayed for and as I left I asked him to pray for the Baptist woman down the hall. He gave me a questioning look and I just said: “Just pray for her. Her joy will bring you healing.”

It’s hard not to think of him as I stand before this community of the faithful gathered here today.

We’re gathered in communion. We’re gathered here as the Church, gathered here in Jesus’ holy name, gathered in Christ’s Eucharistic presence; and it’s through that communion that we are graced by healing today.

And that’s today’s first healing thought: it’s through communion, communion with Jesus, communion with each other, indeed, communion with God’s created order that brings healing into our lives.

And let’s not forget, as Jesus reminds us in today’s reading from Matthew: He is “Master of the House” [Mt 10:25]. As His disciples we are joined together in communion as members of God’s household. But we are not the Master. Our redemption and our healing take place on God’s terms, not ours.

As you work to come to terms with God’s terms, you may well find yourself confronting some other, corner of your life where the need for healing is even greater. For, as Jesus told Nicodemus…

“The Spirit blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes” [Jn 3:8].

We are here in Jesus’ name, and in Word and Eucharist, so God is with us. Accept His presence.

And don’t resist the Spirit. Let Him move where He wills within you. Open your heart to Him today. Follow His lead. It is through the Spirit, through Him alone, that you will receive the healing God wants for you, that you will come to know God’s will for you.

This leads to our second healing thought: the realization that in our brokenness – and believe me we are all broken in so many ways – you and I are called to be both healed and healer.

How many of us, pushing aside our own perceived needs, respond to Jesus’ call to be healer? How many of you, here today for healing, are pleading with God to heal those sitting next to you? After all, if we have come together today as a communion of faith, if we have gathered here to do our part in bringing God’s healing to His Church, then we must respond to His call to be healers.

We all need healing, brothers and sisters, every one of us. But like my hospitalized parishioner we often don’t understand the depth and breadth of the healing God desires for us. How many, as they suffer from an illness or an injury, immediately become what can only be described as irrational?

“Oh, God, why did you do this to me? How could you give me this horrible illness?”

And then immediately change their tune and say:

“Oh, yeah, and while you’re at it, God, please cure me. Heal me of this illness you gave me.”

Yes, we assign to God that which is evil and that which is good. We give him both the blame and the credit. And yet, in doing so, we place ourselves, not God, as the focus of our complaint and our plea: “Why me, Lord, why me? Heal me, Lord.”

Too often we simply want the evil of illness removed. We don’t even think of asking God to turn that which is evil in our lives into something good. At the root of all this, there is only self-centeredness and fear. In the midst of our focus on self, you and I find nothing but loneliness and despair, just like the man I visited in the hospital.

Do you feel isolated and abandoned in your illness and pain? This never leads to healing but only to despair. Well, then, look around you. Reach out to another in need of healing. Set aside your own needs and minister to the other, to Jesus: “I was…ill and you cared for me” [Mt 25:36]. When we break free of our self-imposed loneliness our fears too disappear.

Understand that fear is natural. Indeed, in our humanity it would be unnatural for us not to fear when our lives are threatened by illness. But listen again to what Jesus says to the disciples:

“…do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul…” [Mt 10:28]

You see, Jesus is telling us that the Christian, the true disciple, need not accept such fears. And how does Jesus explain this command not to fear the world and the evils it can bring? Simply by letting us know that “Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known.”

In other words, we should never fear because He promised that, ultimately, the Truth will triumph. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It is He who will triumph, and as His disciples, we will join in that victory. And so, Jesus, the Lord of History, assures us that He will overcome every threat to the body, every illness, every persecution.

You see, brothers and sisters, the true disciple – like the martyrs who willingly sacrificed their bodies for the Truth – knows he is more than his body.

This takes us to our third and final healing thought: God always heals the human spirit first.

In our sinfulness we need healing of the soul, for only that can bring us eternal life. Three times in this brief passage Jesus tells the Apostles, and He tells us, not to fear. By doing so He implies that we, like that army of martyrs, must instead rejoice.

Simone Weil

I think again of the eighty-something woman in the hospital, how she rejoiced in her illnesses, how she rejoiced in the gift of life, how she rejoiced in God’s love expressed through those who prayed for her. She knew that God had healed her many times during her long life, healed her body and her spirit. But she knew, too, that whatever healing God gave her this day was the healing He meant for her to have.

Simone Weil, the brilliant, young French philosopher who escaped the Nazis, once wrote:

“Love of God is pure when joy and suffering inspire an equal degree of gratitude.” [Essay on "Love"]

Yes, two very different people – Simone Weil, born Jewish but Catholic by conviction, who died in exile in 1943 at the age of 33; and my Southern Baptist patient in The Villages Hospital – and yet they both came to know this truth about the love of God.

Let me repeat: “Love of God is pure when joy and suffering inspire an equal degree of gratitude.”

We see this displayed again and again in the Gospel -- the love expressed by those who seek healing from the Lord, a love that arises out of their saving faith.

We see it in the faith of the woman who had suffered for 12 years with hemorrhages. [Mk 5:25-34] It is her faith that initiates her healing and salvation. She touches the hem of Jesus’ garment, and does so in complete faith; healing power flows from Jesus to her; the Lord grants her salvation through her faith; she goes in peace, healed spiritually and physically; she goes a disciple.

We see it in the faith of Bartimaeus [Mk 10:46-52], the blind beggar of Jericho, who overcomes the barriers placed between him and Jesus by the disciples. Moved by the Holy Spirit, he calls out to Jesus as Messiah: “Son of David, have pity on me.” Called by Jesus, he throws off his tunic, leaps to his feet and goes to the Lord.

What does he want? To see. To see what? To see the Way, to see the Truth, to see the Life. And the first one he sees is Jesus, Jesus who tells him “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” But Bartimaeus doesn’t go his way. No, he follows Jesus on The Way. He leaves a disciple.

Brothers and sisters, will all of us gathered here today accept the way of the disciple?

Will we join together in communion to do the work of Jesus Christ?

Will we unite our prayers to bring God’s healing power to the world?

Even in the midst of our own brokenness, will we accept our call to be healers, taking Jesus to those in need?

Is there enough wonder in us to accept that God, by healing our spirits, by creating in us new hearts – that by doing this He is doing something even greater than the creation of the universe?

Yes, we have a lot of work to do today. For we are all here not just to be healed, but also to carry God’s healing power to others.

Praised be Jesus Christ…Now and forever.