Overcoming the Darkness

Overcoming the Darkness
October 25, 2015    Thirtieth Sunday of Ordinary Time - B
by Dcn. Bob Bonomi

Once Upon a Time…
Let me begin with a story of a lovely lady that I’ll call, “ROSE”.  Rose was Catholic, and when I met Rose for the first time she was sitting in a wheelchair in the front row of a communion service at a local nursing home.  She seemed attentive to my preaching, I thought, although sometimes she would nod off.  (I’m sure it was because of her age and not a reflection on my preaching skills.  She was in her 90’s.)  At the sign of peace she would smile and say, “Thank you”, and she’d receive communion, and after the service she’d usually go to her room.
 
But one day, Rose wasn’t there.  Her husband had passed away a few weeks earlier, and I was told that she didn’t want to come to the service anymore.  So I went looking for her.  As I came up to her, she immediately said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to go to the service.  I don’t believe in God anymore.”  She went on to say that she had always been a good Catholic, even when she was young, but she grew up poor and she used to beg for bread for her siblings.  She said that she was sure that the Catholic Church did a lot of good with their money, but that no one helped HER family.  She said it was hard, but that they managed OK.  But now she didn’t believe in God anymore and she was sorry, but didn’t see any reason to believe anymore. 
 
She wasn’t angry or ranting, or anything like that.  She just patted my hand as I held hers and even smiled, and she kept apologizing and saying that it was OK for me to believe because I was young, but she didn’t see any reason for her to believe anymore.  She said that she was old, and although she knew she was in a nursing home, she didn’t know where she was and she didn’t want to be there; her husband had died and she was alone.  She’d cry a little bit when she’d say that her husband had died or that she didn’t believe anymore, but it was just a tiny sob, nothing more. She kept repeating over and over how she was sorry but life was hard and nobody could help her and she didn’t believe anymore.  Not angry, but calmly and with a sad smile or a small sob.
 
I tried to talk with her, to try and console her, but she looked at me, apologized again, and told me that she was deaf and couldn’t hear me.  I was totally helpless.  I knelt in front of her for a few more minutes before she smiled one last time and dismissed me.  I’d see her periodically after that but she wouldn’t come back to the service.
 
There are some striking similarities in Rose’s story to the one we hear in today’s Gospel about Bartimaeus.  Like Bartimaeus, Rose suffered the loss of a key sense – hearing.  Like Bartimaeus, Rose had been a beggar in her earlier days and now depends on the charity of others to care for her.  Bartimaeus needed help to see where to go; Rose needed help to move her wheelchair. Similar hardships; but here is where their stories diverge.  Rose thought she had lost her faith.  Bartimaeus did not.
 
Deafness.  Blindness.  We are so dependent upon our five senses, that the loss of any one of them can isolate us from others.  But especially the loss of sight or of hearing, for these two senses are the ones we use most for relating to another person.  The loss of either one places an invisible barrier around us – one that takes an effort to cross.
 
Bartimaeus made that effort.  It begins with him hearing the crowd passing by.  As a beggar, Bartimaeus knew that the more people nearby, the better the chance that someone would give him something, so he began to call out for alms.  At first, people tried to shut him up.  After all, to be blind in Judea at the time of Jesus indicated that you must have been a pretty bad sinner, and therefore you were an outcast, dependent upon the mercy of others.  The first of the barriers Bartimaeus had to cross – society’s segregation. 
 
But as he continued to beg, he heard from the crowd that it was Jesus who was coming!  Bartimaeus must have heard of Jesus, and despite his blindness he must have known a fair amount of the Jewish faith – possibly taught to him by his father, Timaeus.  The fact that his father is mentioned by name would indicate that Bartimaeus had been part of the family.
Although he was blind, Bartimaeus could “see” that Jesus was the Messiah, the son of David.  Maybe it was because when you’re blind you learn to perceive things that others might miss?  In any case, Bartimaeus needed the help of others to steer him to Jesus once Jesus called to him.  And in order to go to Jesus, Bartimaeus had to take a risk.  He left behind his spot on the road.  He left behind his cloak, which would have been his protection from the elements.   He takes the chance.
 
And Jesus, in reply to Bartimaeus’ efforts, recognizes his faith and restores his sight.  Bartimaeus can now see more than just the road ahead; he sees the Messiah and follows him.  He is no longer isolated.
 
So, what about us?  If we are not blind or deaf, what do these stories have to do with us?  Those of us who appear perfectly healthy?  Those who have full use of their senses? 
 
There was a picture on the Internet not long ago about a young lady who had the words, “I’m Fine” tattooed on her leg.  They were in a kind of flowery script, in big, bold, black letters. Kind of tacky looking to me, but then again, I’m not really into tattoos. No offense to those of you who are into tattoos – my son loves them.  Different generation.
 
Anyway, this young girl had these words tattoo on her thigh where everyone could see them.  But, if you looked at them upside down, from her viewpoint, the words read, “Save Me.”  You see, this young girl suffered from depression and this was her way of telling her parents, the world, that she was crying out for help, that sometimes you cannot see the struggles one suffers.
 
Look around you.  The loss of a physical sense is not the only thing that can isolate us from others. 
 
Do you know what the #1 illness in this country is?  LONELINESS.  Did you know that according to a recent survey published in the American Sociological Review, it is estimated that one out of every four people in this country have no one with whom they can talk about their personal troubles or triumphs? 
 
Are you lonely? Do you feel isolated, cut off from the rest of the world? If not, then it is possible that a person sitting in front of you, or behind you, or on either side of you might be.  And that loneliness, that sense of isolation, can be as crippling to them as Bartimaeus’ blindness or Rose’s deafness was to them. 
 
Even if we do not suffer from that sense of isolation, it doesn’t mean that we, too, are not blind.  For the last 3 days I have been attending the University of Dallas Ministry Conference in downtown Dallas.  It was a WONDERFUL experience!  Three days of presentations on how to draw closer to God – through prayer, through music, through encounters with others.  Each day I’d hop onto the train – with all the rain, I wasn’t about to fight the traffic – and I’d plug in my earbuds and close my eyes, listening to prayers or whatever and shutting out the world around me.
 
But Saturday morning I left really early in the morning, so that I could go to the morning Mass that was being held there.  As I got off of the train at the convention center station, I noticed that it was COLD.  And WET.
 
I also noticed the homeless.  There was a person asleep under a plastic bag, trying to stay dry, there was another one sleeping with his head on a battered suitcase.  I thought to myself that I hoped they wouldn’t call out to me, and they didn’t.  I made it safely inside and went to Mass, and received Jesus and experienced a wonderful day.
 
But when I left, those people were still there.  It was still cold, and I didn’t have a jacket, and I was thinking to myself about getting quickly to the train and avoiding those people.  But one of them stopped me and asked me if I could help him – he needed $7 for a place to stay.  I only had a few dollar bills readily accessible – I had some more stashed but not where I could get to it easily.  I pulled out two dollars and gave it to him, and then I said that I had to keep a couple for myself.  What a hypocrite I was!
 
You know, Jesus is calling to us!  He IS there, waiting for us, even if we cannot hear him or see him or feel his presence.  He is there, waiting for us.  But we need to make a choice.  Do we abandon our faith and fall into despair, like Rose?  Or do we reach out to Jesus, like Bartimaeus? It can be hard, if you don’t have someone to show you the way.
 
I’d like to leave you with this thought:
If you are one of those who feel that sense of isolation, for whatever reason – do not be afraid to call out like Bartimaeus for help.  Do not be afraid to take a chance and leave the comfort of your darkness behind.  Jesus is waiting for you.  Have faith.
 
And if you are not one of those suffering from that sense of isolation, open your eyes to those who are.  Be aware that there are those who are seeking Jesus, who need His Love and His presence, and you may be that presence of Christ for them.  Do not be afraid to leave the comfort of your shelter and answer someone else’s call for help.  Share your faith.
 
Oh, one final comment.  After several months, Rose returned to the communion services, at least for now.  She is still sad, and she still carries her cross – her deafness will probably never go away.  But she will take your hand at the sign of peace and smile, and thank you for being there for her.  And she receives the Eucharist – Jesus, the Christ, the great healer.  What we cannot do for her, Jesus can.  Jesus will not leave her alone.
 
And as we continue with this Eucharistic celebration and you come forward to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus, remember that He is there for you too.  He will not leave you alone.  Ever.