I don’t know about all of you, but sometimes I feel pretty blind… No, I don’t mean blind in the sense that I should call up my optometrist for a check-up, but in the sense that life is moving fast and I feel as though I’m missing it. I feel blind to the present moment due to the chaos that surrounds it. The workload, chores, obligations, and dreams fill my mind. You may roll your eyes and think, “Great another reflection on the present moment- like we haven’t heard that before.”
To some extent, I want to roll my eyes and state that same comment to myself. I get so exhausted from this constant challenge. The challenge to soak in every moment of the beautiful gift of life that passes. It passes by the second, minute, hour, days, and years. Before we know it, we’re done studying high school or finishing our first real job. For some of you, it means babies and grandbabies flash before your eyes. This wild thing called “life” you may wish you could slow down.
“The blind man was sitting by the roadside begging.” I don’t know why I got emotional when I read this line from the Scripture readings from today. Perhaps its the fact that I imagine this tiny, weary old man put all the effort and energy he has left, begging in the unknown. He begs in the unknown darkness because he cannot see. He does not have the sense of sight, yet he begs. He begs to be noticed. He begs to be seen. He begs for food and shelter. He begs for love.
No one would ever guess that I feel so intimately the same as that homeless, dirty, weary old man… but I do. I feel tapped out. I feel down on the ground. I feel as though I am brought to my knees, begging. I can just imagine what it would be like for the blind man, hearing a rushing crowd and quickly asking what is happening around me.
“Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.”
In a moment, the weary blind old man uses all the strength he has left. At the sound of Jesus’ name, he knows. He knows that in this moment of blindness, he must act. He screams at the top of his lungs. He screams not in fear or anger, but in a cry of begging hope.
“Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!”
I can’t explain the way I deeply feel this beggar’s cry. I feel as though our voices are one. I cry with him in the exact bold, obnoxious, screaming at the top of my lungs type of way! I continue to do so with him as the crowd around rebukes his cry. I imagine how the people pushed him and walked in front of him, believing they’re better than him. This doesn’t stop him in his commitment to cry out to Jesus. He’s sticking it through, he’s not backing down. He wants the Lord to hear him and see him.
Finally, He comes and he speaks with us. He comes near to those who are hurting. He comes near to the ones on the outskirts, those rejected and rebuked by others. This moment is such a testament to those who are put down by others or care about others opinions.
In this case of scripture, I just adore this blind man… in case you didn’t already get that. He literally does not care about what others think of him, which can be hard to do. He doesn’t care and lets their comments and rebuking annoyance roll off him easily. He gives no time for second thoughts or doubts in his cry out to Jesus. He doesn’t take a moment to think he should stop once they asked him to. Some may think this blind man was being rude, but I think he’s being remarkably real. An authentic moment of dependence, contrition, and worth. This man is no less worthy than those who can physically see Jesus pass by the crowd. This man is no less worthy than those who shushed him down and told him to shut up.
How often do I let what others think of me affect the vigor and glory of my cry, “Jesus, Son of David have pity on me!” Let’s make that our prayer today as we seek to follow the example of this wonderfully holy, humble old, formerly blind, and miraculously cured old man. May Jesus come and heal the blindness of our hearts as we continue to cry out to him without hesitation or fear.
Briana is a Catholic Doctrine teacher at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel school in Cleveland, OH. She received her Bachelor of Arts in Theology and Catechetics from the Franciscan University of Steubenville, OH and is excited to use these skills to bring her students closer to Christ and His Church. “My soul has been refined and I can raise my head like a flower after a storm.” -St. Therese
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