Accepting Our Sight from Christ

Dear Friends,

Jesus asked the same question in last week’s Gospel as He does today, “What do you want me to do for you?” Last weekend, Jesus directed that question to James and John. It was clear they wanted power and glory for themselves. They didn’t want to see, grasp, understand, absorb the mission, mystery and message of Jesus. They wanted control for very selfish reasons, and Jesus denied them their wish.

This week, as Jesus left Jericho to go up to Jerusalem, Bartimaeus clamored for attention, shouting until he was heard. The blind man, who was an embarrassment for the crowd, was suddenly urged forward by that same crowd because Jesus had noticed him.

Again, Jesus asks: “What do you want me to do for you?” This time the answer is very different. “I want to see,” Bartimaeus declared.

More than physical sight, Bt (let’s call him that) wanted to make sense of his life, to find meaning and purpose and to cease being a beggar. The Gospel tells us that, as soon as Bt saw, he began to follow Jesus up the road. The blind beggar had become a disciple – a disciple unlike James and John. Even in their closeness to Christ, James and John lacked hindsight, insight and foresight. They had trouble dealing with their blind spots about Jesus and themselves.

The one thing that Bt knew about himself that the others did not see in themselves was vulnerability. In this, he was like the people whom Jeremiah describes in today’s first reading – people in exile, unable to move at will, without resources to extricate themselves from their captivity.

Vulnerable people seem to remember God’s faithful promise more easily than people who are sure of their own power, abilities, successes. They remember and they draw from God’s own promise the courage to go on.

In a world of vulnerability caused by the pandemic, with its economic stresses, racial and gender tensions, as well as changing societal values about life and death, that question, “What do you want me to do for you?” is crucial. Christ continues to ask each of us this question when we present ourselves as wanting/needing something.

Is the boldness of Bt in us, not only to acknowledge our own vulnerability, but to know what to ask for and then what to do? Do we really want to see? To have others see?

Some would say that Bt was lucky. He asked and got his sight, with all that that implied. We ask, and God seems to say “NO.” But is the answer really “no sight” or is it “no sight now” or “other sight?”

In our world, with all our vulnerability, will we be curious enough to ask who is passing by as Christ comes up the road? Will we dare the crowd which want no part of the challenge? Will we know what to say when Christ asks us, “What do you want me to do for you?” Will each of us accept the sight we have been given? Will we follow Christ along the road?

~Sister Joan Sobala