Is There Something I Don’t See?

Introduction

Jesus Light of the world

In Mark’s gospel there is a section devoted to Jesus, the light of the world. It begins in the eighth chapter with Jesus curing a blind man from Bethsaida. It ends today in the tenth chapter with Jesus curing Bartimaeus, a blind man from Jericho. Sitting by the roadside he begs Jesus to have pity on him. “What do you want,” Jesus asks the poor man? “Lord, I don’t see. I pray that I might see” (Mk 10: 46‑52).

Spiritual blindness

Sandwiched in between these two stories of physical blindness is a section on spiritual blindness. That’s the blindness lodged not in our eyes but in our hearts and heads. That’s the blindness that doesn’t see that one doesn’t see and therefore never prays that one might see. That’s the blindness that thinks it sees everything there is to be seen. That’s the blindness that never humbly asks, “Is there something I don’t see?”

The section on spiritual blindness opens in the eighth chapter. Shortly after curing the blind man from Bethsaida, Jesus speaks openly about his future sufferings at the hands of the chief priests and elders. Peter scolds Jesus for talking about suffering. Jesus scolds back saying, “Peter, are you blind? Can’t you see that the one who wants to follow me must forget self and take up the cross" (Mk 8: 34)? In the ninth chapter the apostles-- full grown men-- are arguing among themselves about who is the greatest! Jesus chides them saying, "My friends, are you blind? Can't you see that the one who aspires to greatness must put himself last and become the servant of the others” (Mk 9: 35)? Then in the tenth chapter the sons of Zebedee, James and John, ask Jesus for the favor of sitting on thrones one to his right and the other to his left when he comes into his kingdom. Again Jesus scolds these two self-seekers saying, "My friends, are you blind? Can't you see that the one who aspires to greatness must be the servant of the others” (Mk 10: 43)?

The section on spiritual blindness then ends with Jesus, the light of the world, curing Bartimaeus who implores, “Lord, I don’t see. I pray that I might see.” At the end of the day, Bartimaeus isn’t really blind at all, for the one who chooses to see that he doesn’t see has 20/20 vision. It’s the one who chooses not to see that he doesn’t see, who is blind. Or it’s the one who thinks he sees everything there is to be seen, who is blind.

A classical story

The classical story of a blind person cured by Jesus is traditionally reserved for the fourth Sunday of Lent. A man born blind was cured by Jesus on the Sabbath. That added fuel to the animosity which the Pharisees already had for him. First they approach the cured man himself. “Did this man Jesus really cure you,” they asked? “Yes, he did,” he answered. “How can a man who violates the Sabbath perform a miracle,” they exclaimed. Then they approached the man’s shabby parents and asked whether he was really born blind? “Yes, he was,” they answered. Not satisfied with the parents’ answer they went back to the cured man for more interrogation. Not satisfied with his answers either they threw him out of the synagogue (Jn 9: 1-41).

It was obvious to everyone that the man had been born blind; they had seen him daily hanging around the Pool of Siloam and begging. It was obvious, too, that the man in some miraculous manner now began to see. All that was obvious to everyone except to the Pharisees. The story turns out to be more about people who were born with sight but were spiritually blind whom Jesus couldn’t cure than about the man born blind and cured by Jesus. Its positioning in Lent implies that a good part of our sin calling for Lenten repentance is our spiritual blindness.

Not seeing the obvious

The story rambles on for 41 verses, and it builds up to an impatience in us that cries out, “My gosh! Can’t you people see! It’s so obvious.” When, for whatever reason, we choose not to see what’s obvious, there’s a blindness in our hearts and heads.

It’s obvious, for example, that the shortage of priests becomes more acute every year. This past Sunday we installed Fr. Timothy Kitski. Already the pastor of the Church of the Three Holy Women, he is now the pastor of a fourth holy woman, Old St. Mary’s! A friend said he’s the most installed pastor in the Archdiocese of Milwaukee. It’s also obvious to many that the priest shortage is really man-made (like our gas shortage at the pumps). There is really a rich reservoir of candidates out there (married or unmarried, male or even female) waiting and wanting to be tapped for ministry. It’s also obvious to a good number of theologians that there is no plausible, honest theological argument that stands in the way of this. It’s obvious, too, that it is a great waste not to tap that rich supply. When, for some strange reason (which only psychiatrists can explain), we choose not to see the obvious, we are spiritually blind.

An e-mail came in this past week (may God bless and curse emails) alerting me to the fact that in an Oct. 23 letter, Bishop William S. Skylstad, president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, asked his fellow bishops to inform all pastors that the extraordinary ministers of holy Communion (i.e. non-ordained minister of holy Communion) will no longer be permitted to assist in the purification of the sacred vessels after Mass! That permission was granted back in 2002, and Rome recently refused to renew it.

What would Jesus say about that? Pointing to the acute crisis of the priest shortage as graphically emphasized in the archdiocese’s most installed pastor. Jesus would cry out, “My gosh! Can’t you people see! A whole system of pastoral care built up over a period of a thousand years, giving each congregation a pastor to care for it, is now collapsing before your very eyes, and you are worried about who may or may not do the dishes after Mass!”

Not seeing the complex

It’s blindness to choose not to see what’s obvious. It’s also blindness not to see what’s complex. It’s blindness to choose easy answers for complex issues like celibacy, human sexuality, homosexuality, birth control, divorce and remarriage. In debating these complex issues some have recourse to facile phrases like “the ancient, sacred and unbroken tradition of the church” or “the immutable and infallible teaching of the church.” They claim that everything to be said about these complex issues has already been said. That ends a debate (or better yet, a holy conversation) which never got started in the first place. That dispenses the church teaching and the church taught from asking the humble question, “Is there something I don’t see?”

A complex proposal

That question is facing us in the November elections. There is a proposal to amend Wisconsin's constitution. The amendment is complex, and it should have us asking, “Is there something I don’t see?” It has two clauses. The first is this: " . . . only a marriage between one man and one woman shall be valid or recognized as a marriage in this state . . ." That’s a straightforward statement which resonates with Rome and the Bishops of Wisconsin who affirm that only the loving commitments of heterosexual unions are to be dignified with the title and status of "marriage." But the second clause is this: " . . . and a legal status identical or substantially similar to that of marriage for unmarried individuals shall not be valid or recognized in this state."

This part of the amendment gives pause to Fr. Bryan Massingale, associate professor of theology at Marquette University. In the Catholic Herald for September 21, 2006, he expressed his fear this clause could endanger laws and other arrangements which extend medical coverage (among other benefits) to unmarried households and people who would otherwise be uninsured. That, he maintains, should be a problem for Catholics because the right to medical care, according to Catholic social teaching, is a fundamental human right (cf. Pacem in Terris, #11). Voting “yes” on the amendment, he says, not only runs contrary to deep Catholic commitments and values, but it also “exacerbates the already scandalous reality of the uninsured in our society.” Voting “No” on the amendment, he says, “is the best way to respect all of our Catholic beliefs and values.” The Milwaukee Archdiocesan Alliance, a grass-roots organization of 140 members, issued a statement this month which concurred with Fr. Massingale’s analysis but stopped short of calling voters to reject the amendment.

It goes without saying that there’s a strong section of the church which will vote “yes” to the amendment because, as Christopher Wolfe, professor at Marquette University wrote to the Catholic Herald, “[it] reflects the church’s teaching on the importance of marriage and our obligation to preserve it as best we can.

At the end of the day, it’s useless to engage in sloganeering –one side crying out “defense of marriage” and the other side crying out “equal rights.” Sloganeering simply dispenses everyone from humbly asking, “Is there something I don’t see?”

A humble question

That, indeed, is a humble question which humble people ask themselves. In a letter sent to Old St. Mary’s, with carbon copies to the Archbishop and me, a gentleman complained deeply about the priest who at the 10 AM Mass on October 1 at Old St. Mary’s used the pulpit as a platform to cater to cafeteria Catholics. Being the first Sunday of the month, the Allegro Choir was singing that day. The gentleman threatened to absent himself from any Mass at Old St. Mary’s overshadowed by that priest’s presence.

The gentleman obviously didn’t ask himself, “Is there something I don’t see?” There must, indeed, have been something he didn’t see, for in an e-mail sent to Old St. Mary’s at the beginning of September (another Allegro Choir day) and forwarded to me, a gentlewoman wrote, “I truly feel it was God’s will that we celebrated with you at Old Saint Mary’s. I so enjoyed the service. Father was absolutely fabulous, his sermon was out of this world, the choir [the Allegro Singers] was phenomenal, the lector was dynamic and the beauty of your church was just so stunning. It was a pivotal moment for us, especially for me (who had a miscarriage at 12 weeks in July). I lit a candle after Mass for our lost baby, and I am looking forward with hope to our family’s future. I know that God has bigger plans for our family than we even realize, and I know we are blessed.” If that gentleman would read that e-mail from that gentlewoman, it would perhaps give him pause and set himself asking, “Is there something I’m not seeing?”

That, of course, is a question not only for the gentleman, it’s also a question for the gentle preacher who caters to cafeteria Catholics. It’s two way traffic. We both are called to ask ourselves is there something we don’t see, and then we both are called to open ourselves to whatever that might be. Jesuit George Wilson says, “Seeing means working hard at looking. And then it means not shrinking from what we see.” That‘s the sight which Jesus, the light of the world, comes to give us.

Conclusion

A strange saying

That long rambling story about the man born blind and cured by Jesus ends with a mystifying line from the mouth of Jesus. It indicts the Pharisees and at the same time declares his mission as the light of the world:

"I have come into this world so that the blind should see,

and those who see should become blind"

(Jn 9:39).

Translation:

"I have come into this world to show those

who think they see everything there is to be seen

that they are blind.

I have come into this world to give sight

to those who see that they don't see,

and who ardently cry out with Bartimaeus,

”Lord, I want to see.”