Bible Study Reflection #24: Healing

Years ago, when I was an altar boy, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, I witnessed a remarkable incident. Weekday morning Mass had just ended, and the church emptied quickly as people rushed off to work. I was in the sanctuary extinguishing the candles when I noticed a man walking up the center aisle carrying a young boy in his arms. The boy looked to be about five years old and his legs draped loosely over the man’s arms. When they arrived at the altar rail, the man lowered the boy to the floor and knelt facing the altar. I stood there, maybe 20 feet away, ignored by both man and boy. I still remember their faces, the faint smile on the boy’s and the look of determination on the man’s. After a moment he said, loud enough for me to hear, “Lord, Jesus Christ, he’s yours. Heal my son. Save my son.” He then picked up the boy, turned, and walked back down the aisle and out the front door.

At the time I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d just witnessed, but I knew it was something special. I wish I could tell you the story had a miraculous ending, but I can’t. I never saw either the man or the boy again. But this incident from 65 years ago always comes to mind when I read this passage from Matthew, chapter 15:

And Jesus went on from there and passed along the Sea of Galilee. And He went upon the mountain, and sat down there. And great crowds came to Him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others, and they put them at His feet and He healed them, so that the throng wondered, when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel [Mt 15:29-31].

Usually, when we read or hear this passage, we focus on the multiplication of loaves and fishes that immediately follows. But today, at least at first, I’d like to focus just on these three brief verses. It’s really a remarkable little passage.

To me, this passage highlights, among other things, the difference between the common people of Galilee – with the obvious exception of the envious hometown folks of Nazareth – and the urban sophisticates of Jerusalem. The former, having witnessed firsthand the miraculous works of Jesus, “glorified the God of Israel.” The latter, apparently hoping for an earthly liberator, cry out as Jesus enters the city:

Hosanna! Blessed is he who  comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel! [Jn 12:13].

…and then, only days later, call for His crucifixion.

We also notice that the events described by Matthew mirror the Old Testament story of the Exodus. Once again… “Jesus went on from there and passed along the Sea of Galilee. And He went up on the mountain, and sat down there” [Mt 15:29]. Just as God led His chosen people across the sea and then to the mountain in Sinai where he sat in glory, Jesus passes by the sea, and then takes his place on the mountain top.

It’s only fitting that Jesus, the King of Creation, should use the earth as His very throne. And there He sits, on that mountain between heaven and earth, resting, saying nothing, full of God’s expectant silence. Yes, there he sits, in Paul’s words, “the one Mediator between God and men” [1 Tim 2:5], waiting to dispense to anyone who comes to Him truth and healing, life and breath, and everything good.

This decision by Jesus to sit down does not simply indicate His need to rest, but perhaps more importantly, reflects the posture of the rabbi, the teacher, who is always seated when He teaches. But no sooner does Jesus sit down than the needy flock to Him in great numbers, as if drawn by some irresistible force. Who are they? Matthew tells us: “…the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others.” Ah, yes, you might think, the usual suspects – the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute -- those same unfortunates we encounter throughout the Gospels.

But Matthew adds something else, doesn’t he? “…and many others.” What others? Why, all of us, for the healing power of Jesus is universal and we are all in need of it.

In this remarkable event we see the fulfillment of the Psalmists’ prophecies:

Serve the LORD with fear, with trembling kiss his feet…Blessed are all who take refuge in him [Ps 2:11-12].

Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved [Ps 55:22].

Because he cleaves to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name [Ps 91:14].

Your people will offer themselves freely on the day you lead your host upon the holy mountains [Ps 110:3]. 

In the Old Testament we find frequent close encounters with God’s power, a power He must wield frequently enough to keep His chosen people together and holy. But now, under the New Covenant, mercy and power come together; Jesus judges only to save:

I have come as light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness. If anyone hears my sayings and does not keep them, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world [Jn 12:46-47].

So, the next time you see one of those roadside signs that shouts out to the passing world, “Jesus Saves!”, you should loudly exclaim, “Amen!”

Sometimes, I think, as we hear the Gospel proclaimed, we pay too little attention to what it reveals. For example, Matthew tells us “great crowds came to Him,” all looking for healing. The word had spread throughout Galilee, hadn’t it? This Jesus of Nazareth cures everyone who comes to Him. Yes, indeed, the WORD gets around, and draws all to Him.

Following our brief passage, “Jesus summoned His disciples and said” to them:

My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, for fear they may collapse on the way [Mt 15:32].

We see, then, that these folks didn’t just come and go; no, these “great crowds” stayed with Jesus…for three days. The people knew, instinctively, that they needed more than physical healing, for wherever Jesus went, He not only healed, He also preached and taught. They needed to hear the Word of God, the Word of mercy and forgiveness that leads to the salvation God wants for all of us.

Jesus did “not want to send them away hungry.” They also needed food. And what better food to nourish them on their journey home as they follow “the way” than the Bread of Life itself? The feeding of the 4,000 that follows is a foreshadowing of the Eucharistic feast Jesus will introduce at the Last Supper. We are called back to His words proclaimed in the synagogue at Capernaum, words that shocked those who heard them:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me. This is the bread which came down from heaven, not such as the fathers ate and died; he who eats this bread will live forever [Jn 6:52-58].

Many, indeed many of His disciples, were shocked by these words, so shocked they no longer followed Him, leaving only the twelve and perhaps a few others. It’s then John shares with us this brief yet wonderful dialog between Jesus and Peter:

Jesus said to the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God" [Jn 6:67-69].

Today, we thank Peter for his decision to remain with Jesus, a decision that likely influenced the other Apostles to stay as well. And we thank, too, the Holy Spirit who inspired Peter, leading his heart and mind to follow the will of the Father. Yes, God inspires us and offers us His grace, but He doesn’t force Himself on us. He allows us to accept or reject His saving grace. But had Peter made the wrong decision, had he rejected the Lord as so many others had, had he led the other Apostles to turn away from Jesus at this critical time, would we have had the Last Supper? Would we have the Eucharist, the “bread which came down from heaven” and gives us eternal life? Fortunately, it’s a question we don’t have to answer, for Peter accepted the inspiration and the grace he received that day in Capernaum.

Let’s return now to our initial verses and those who came to Jesus in need of healing. Notice that those whom Jesus cured were prevented by their very afflictions from going to our Lord on their own. They found themselves at Jesus’ feet only because their friends, relatives, neighbors – perhaps even a stranger or two – carried them there.

The people in need are placed at Jesus’ feet – actually a better translation of the Greek is that they are cast at Jesus’ feet -- in a sense, thrown down, at the feet of the King, almost as a sacrifice. They are placed there in an act of submission to Jesus’ person and power, so that they may be freed from their brokenness and become whole. For it is only through the saving power of Jesus Christ that we become truly whole in both body and soul.

What seems at first to be simply the start of a rather ordinary scene in which Jesus makes His way up the mountain and sits down, in just a few verses, is magnified into a universal event of salvation that creates new life. It’s all of a piece isn’t it, all blended together in this remarkable series of events? The physical healing, the spiritual healing, the Eucharistic teaching, the promise of eternal life, and so much more, all become one as all are bound together by our Lord.

I’m reminded once again of that event I witnessed in my parish church so many years ago. The man who carried his son to the altar of the Lord took hm there out of love, knowing the boy could not make the pilgrimage on his own. He needed another, just as so many of us need others as we struggle along the path to salvation, as we make our broken way along The Way. Yes, we need physical healing often enough, but we are always in need of spiritual healing.

That father spoke aloud his short prayer as he knelt before the altar of the Lord, but perhaps in its brevity, we encounter the abundance of the perfect prayer.

“Lord, Jesus Christ, he’s yours. Heal my son. Save my son.”

He accepts that his son belongs to God, and by expressing this, he tells the Lord to care for this child, to what he, his earthly father, has been unable to do. He calls on God to heal this son of theirs, to heal him physically. But then he concludes his prayer by asking God to grant this boy, their son, salvation.

I’ve always believed that this father’s act of humility and perfect prayer brought the answer he sought from the Divine Healer, our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Do you see our responsibility? Your responsibility? Yes, brothers and sisters, each of us has a part in each other’s story of salvation. And for what end? Why the same end that Matthew reveals in our Gospel passage: “and they glorified the God of Israel.”

For this is what human life is all about. We are to make a gift of ourselves to God, so that, as Paul reminds us,

…having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which He has called you, what are the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints” [Eph 1:18]. 

…that our lives may glorify our God.

 

Homily: 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 19:4-8; Ps 34; Eph 4:30-5:2; Jn 6:41-51

Some years ago, a high school student asked me why, if God really exists, He doesn’t manifest Himself in some obvious way. “I mean,” he said, “like, if Jesus really is God, why doesn’t he just appear, you know, in the sky or somewhere? Or maybe He could perform some really big miracle, something that everyone could see.”

“And what would that accomplish?” I asked.

He stared at me as if I were, as they say, totally clueless. “Well, you know, everyone would have to believe in Him. I mean, how could anyone ignore it?”

“And you think that this would change people?”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t it change you?”

I admitted that a miracle of the sort he envisioned would no doubt have its effect on me. It would certainly reaffirm my faith in Jesus as the Son of God.

“But what of those who don’t already believe?” I asked. “Or those whose faith is weak, and whose lives reflect this weakness? Would they suddenly transform their lives, become holy and obey God’s commandments?”

“Sure.” he said, “I mean, it would be pretty dumb not to.”

For a moment, I considered my own faith...and my sinfulness, and my inability to justify the disparity between them. Yes, I found myself thinking, it is pretty dumb to believe and yet to continue resisting God’s Will through sin and disobedience.

In today’s second reading, St. Paul chastises the Christians at Ephesus on this very point. Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit, he tells them, with your bitterness, your anger, your malice, your slander toward one another. In other words, it’s not enough to say we’re Christians; we must be Christians -- as Paul says -- “imitators of God,” imitators of Christ.

 But like the Ephesians we instead let ourselves be consumed by anger, by hatreds, by lust, by greed. In varying degrees, we all do it, don’t we?

We see it in families, in homes where love is absent and communication is limited to criticism, angry outbursts, and worse.

We see it in the workplace, where too often the just wage is sacrificed on the altar of investor’s profits. Or where commercial decisions are made with no thought given to their moral implications. As the chief executive of a large corporation once said to me, “I don’t see where personal morality has any place in business decisions.” And he claims to be a Christian.

We see it in our professions, where, for example, some doctors supposedly committed to healing devote themselves to bringing only death...to the unborn, to the sick, to the elderly.

We see it in our popular culture, in movies and on TV, on the Internet, in our music... where immorality reigns supreme, where God’s Word and His Church are mocked, where the Ten Commandments are consigned to the dust heap of irrelevance. "Hey, it's a new millennium," they tell us.

Sometimes we even see it in the parking lot after Mass, but that’s a subject for another homily.

Like some of the Ephesians who so exasperated St. Paul, too many of us try to compartmentalize our lives into Christian times -- pretty much restricted to Sunday mornings -- and other times, when just about anything goes.

Strange behavior, isn’t it? Here we are, believing Christians, who are told by Jesus -- No, commanded by the Son of God -- to repent, to change the direction of our lives so they reflect the Gospel. And instead of obeying, we carry on as if...well, as if He didn’t exist. And yet it’s He, the Creative Word of God, who sustains our very existence. In the words of my teenage friend, “pretty dumb” of us, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why Jesus was so fond of comparing us to sheep, perhaps the least intelligent of His warm-blooded creatures.

Back now to that conversation with the young man…

To convince him that God knows what He’s about, that spectacular miracles in themselves don’t create faithful Christians, I turned to chapter 6 of John, the source of today’s Gospel reading.

The scene depicted took place in the synagogue at Capernaum the day after Jesus had fed thousands by multiplying a few loaves and fish. His listeners, many of the very same people who had filled their bellies with bread at that miraculous picnic on a Galilean hillside, were all attentive until He began to reveal His true identity. “I am the bread which came down from heaven,” he told them.

Ignoring the miracles they had witnessed, instead of listening to Him, they challenged Him: “Now, wait just a minute. You’re not from heaven. You’re from Nazareth. We know you. You’re the son of Joseph and Mary.”

Interesting, isn’t it? They’re simply unable to reconcile their earthly knowledge of Jesus as the local boy who helped out in Joseph’s carpenter shop with what they’ve seen Him do or with the claim He’s just made.

Like Elijah in today’s first reading, Jesus is rejected; and the parallel doesn’t stop there. Elijah had just performed a spectacular miracle in God’s Name in which he had defeated the priests of the pagan god, Baal. And the result? Elijah was forced to flee into the desert for his life.

But Jesus doesn’t flee. He persists and says, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. I will raise him up on the last day.”

Faith, then, isn’t something we can achieve through our own efforts, like a promotion at work. It’s a gift from the Father, a free, totally gratuitous gift. We must, however, be disposed to receive it. And we must cherish it, nourish it, and help it grow through prayer and acts of love.

“Follow the way of love,” St. Paul instructs us, “even as Christ loved you.”

But Jesus goes on, and adds these remarkable words, “I am the bread of life...If anyone eats this bread he shall live forever; the bread I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.”

Here Jesus reveals the very essence of the Good News: He has come for one reason: to offer His Life so that we may share in eternal life with the Father. As we will see in next Sunday’s Gospel, with these words Jesus also introduces God’s most extraordinary gift: the Eucharist, the bread of life, the true miracle performed daily on this altar and thousands of others throughout the world.

You see, Jesus knows us far better than we know ourselves. He knows how we struggle on this brief journey to Eternity. He knows how we suffer through the illnesses, the sacrifices, the addictions, the rejections, the fears of this life. He hears our cries when those we love are hurting, for He, too, has suffered.

To strengthen us, to nourish our souls, to keep us close to Him, the Father gives us His gift of Love. He gives us His Son, body and blood, soul and divinity, under the appearances of bread and wine. He permits us to share, again and again, in the sacrifice of Christ.

The people in the synagogue at Capernaum rejected this message, the Good News of salvation. They rejected the gift. And they rejected Jesus Himself. Why? Because it all got in the way of what they thought they knew.

From our perspective. 2,000 years later, we see that human nature has remained essentially the same. Spectacular miracles won’t guarantee faith. Faith demands a receptive heart open to God’s Word, and a willingness to transform our lives.

So, as we receive the Bread of Life at Communion today, let’s approach with faith-filled hearts, committed to living the Christian life that God wants for each of us. Then, in the words of today’s psalm, we too can “Taste and see how good the Lord is.”

Homily: 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Readings: Jb 7:1-4, 6-7; Ps 147; 1Cor 9:16-19, 22-23; Mk 1:29-39
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A day in the life of Jesus – this is what we see in today’s brief Gospel passage. Here at the beginning of his Gospel, Mark offers a glimpse into Jesus’ ministry throughout Galilee. Indeed, I suspect Mark had a purpose here: to let us experience the urgency surrounding Jesus’ public ministry; that from the very start Our Lord was driven by the Spirit to teach and to heal as He preached the Good News to all He encountered.

Jesus had just called the first of His Apostles to Him: two sets of brothers, Peter and Andrew, James and John. He had called and they hadn’t hesitated. They dropped everything to follow Jesus. Together they entered Capernaum. It was the Sabbath, so the day began in the synagogue.

“…He entered the synagogue and taught” [Mk 1:21], Mark tells us.

The synagogue was a place for prayer and for teaching. Jews spent serious time on the Sabbath reading and commenting on Scripture, so you can be sure Jesus’ teaching wasn’t presented in little, ten-minute homilies.

Mark goes on to say, “The people were astounded at His teaching” [Mk 1:22].

They were astounded because never before had they encountered someone like Jesus. He was different. Unlike the scribes, “He taught them as one having authority” [Mk 1:22]. To punctuate this authority, to prove its divine source, He cured a man possessed by a demon, a demon who openly proclaimed Jesus’ identity: “the Holy One of God” [Mk 1:24].

And so Jesus’ fame spread…

Leaving the synagogue, he and His four companions go to Simon Peter’s home, probably for the day’s main meal. But as soon as He arrives, He’s told that Peter’s mother-in-law is ill with a fever. This telling is in itself a form of prayer.

We’ve seen this prayer before. At Cana Mary simply said, “They have no wine” [Jn 2:3] – no request, just a statement of fact, just a telling. And Jesus responds and does so miraculously. Here in Capernaum Peter need only tell the Lord that his mother-in-law is ill, and Jesus heals her quietly with just a touch. The effect is instantaneous.

Has a miracle taken place? Certainly. It all happened because Jesus is there. That’s the one precondition for every miracle: God’s presence. But the miracle seems almost incidental to the reality of the new relationship between Jesus and the woman He has healed. We come to understand this when Jesus comes near to us; for when He approaches us, something good must happen. When Jesus draws near, the gift of faith deepens, conversion begins, vocations are defined, miracles happen.

All these things and more will follow when, in the presence of Jesus, we allow Him to take us by the hand and lift us up. Instead of simply telling God of our sorrows, our joys, our problems, how often does our prayer consist of telling God how He should do things? How often do we try to drag God to our way of thinking, to do what we want? In truth, though, we need only come to Our Lord with our problem and let Him deal with it.

What does this grateful woman do? Jesus has reached out to her, so she lets Him take her hand and help her up. She then waits on Him and the others. She thanks the Lord by serving the Lord.  This, too, is a prayer.

Brothers and sisters, God's healing power restores us not only to health but to active service and the care of others. God has given each of us a service ministry and this is what it’s all about. It’s a prayer, a form of thanksgiving to God for enabling us to serve Him by serving others. But first we must be healed.

You know you’re in need of healing, don’t you? We all are. But have you allowed Jesus Christ to heal you? Have you come to Him, thrown your sins down before Him in the sacrament of Reconciliation and asked for healing?

In the midst of our short lives, our limited, less than transformed lives, Jesus approaches each of us. He calls us by name. He grasps our hand, heals us, and frees us with a touch. And then He helps us up, lifting us up to the freedom He wants for each of us, energizing us so we can respond to His call, so we too can serve.

What about the Apostles? Do you think they knew what He was calling them to do? Probably not. They were likely too overcome by the wonder of it all. Imagine having been called by Jesus, by this man who does the miraculous, called to be His companions, His special friends. They don’t yet know that soon enough they will be doing what He is doing; and soon enough they will experience the cost of discipleship, they will experience the Cross.

Paul, of course, knew this when, in our 2nd reading, he told the Christians of Corinth, “I preach the gospel…and woe to me if I do not preach it!" [1 Cor 9:16] Yes, we’re all called to evangelize, and woe to us if we do not. We are called to share the Good News with the world, even if our little corner of the world might be small indeed.

“His fame spread” [Mk 1:28], Mark tells us. Jesus had become an instant celebrity in Galilee. The sick, the possessed, the confused, the curious – all of these and more ether came to Jesus or were brought to Him by others. Many, led by the Spirit, came in faith, begging Jesus to heal.

“The whole town was gathered at the door” [Mk 1:33].

Does Mark exaggerate? I don’t think so. Everyone came to Him. And why not? Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you want to see Him for yourself, this man who did such remarkable things. Mark sums it all up briefly:

“He cured many who were sick with various diseases, and he drove out many demons, not permitting them to speak because they knew him” [Mk 1:34].

Interesting, isn’t it? The evil one recognizes Jesus for who He is, but so many others haven’t a clue. What about us? Do we know Him…well enough to take our troubles to Him in expectant faith?

Jesus wants to heal.

He wants to help us with all our troubles.

He wants to free us from every form of bondage.

Again, we need only ask, ask that God’s will, the will of the Father, be done in our lives. We need only ask just as the people of Capernaum had asked. No doubt they asked far into the night.

It had been a long day for Our Lord; and yet an exhausted Jesus rose early and off by Himself, to a lonely place, to pray. Did you notice how Jesus’ time of prayer – His time with the Father – energized Him? It gave Him the strength to continue His mission of bringing the Good News to God’s People. Through prayer Jesus brought healing and comfort to thousands.

How about you and me? Is our prayer like the prayer of Jesus? What do we pray for? Do we pray for strength in carrying out the mission God has given us, in carrying out the Father’s will in our lives?

Jesus walked this earth. He knows our hardships. He knows the sorrows and joys that fill our lives. He knows our sufferings because He suffered Himself. Yes, He became human to conquer death; but he also came to bring hope – not only to the people He encountered 2,000 years ago, but to all of us…today and every day.

“I came,” Jesus proclaimed, “so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” [Jn 10:10].

Life! Life here and eternal life. Today, as we actually partake in God’s Divine Life, as we receive Jesus in the Eucharist, as we experience this miraculous Communion with God Himself, let us remember that we too are called.

Have you responded to His call?

How is He inviting you to come closer to Him?

Can you, with childlike abandon, grasp His hand and let Him lift you up?

Will you join Him on His mission to bring God’s love, to share the Good News, with the world?

For this is our calling.