Open My Eyes, Lord

February 15, 2012

Wednesday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time

By Colleen O'Sullivan

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world. (James 1:27)

When Jesus and his disciples arrived at Bethsaida, people brought to him a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. Putting spittle on his eyes he laid his hands on the man and asked, "Do you see anything?" Looking up the man replied, "I see people looking like trees and walking." Then he laid hands on the man's eyes a second time and he saw clearly; his sight was restored and he could see everything distinctly. Then he sent him home and said, "Do not even go into the village." (Mark 8:22-26)

Piety

Open my eyes, Lord.

Help me to see your face.

Open my eyes, Lord.

Help me to see.

(refrain, Open My Eyes, Jesse Manibusan)

Study

In Mark’s Gospel the healing of the blind man in Bethsaida as well as the story of the healing of blind Bartimaeus (Mk 10:46-52) serve as bookends on either side of Jesus’ attempts to prepare the disciples for his looming suffering and death as well as his efforts to teach them what true discipleship would entail. Pre-Resurrection Peter recognizes that Jesus is the Messiah, but argues that he can’t possibly be going to suffer. Lord, don’t even talk like that! Jesus must have been very frustrated by his followers’ blindness, which is a theme throughout this entire section of Mark’s Gospel.

Sometimes God must be equally discouraged by our lack of vision. We have an advantage over Peter in that we live in the post-Resurrection era. We have the New Testament Scriptures at our disposal. We know what kind of Messiah Jesus ultimately turned out to be. We know what our lives as disciples should look like. Or do we?

I can parrot all the right words. We are to follow Jesus, carry our crosses, lose our lives to gain them. According to James, we must care for the poorest, most despised among us, who were the widows and orphans in his day. We should live in the world, but not be of the world. Even as I write these words, though, I feel like the blind person in today’s Gospel. I want to run to Jesus and say: Lord, I need your help. Lay your hands on my head. Open my eyes. Show me what discipleship should look like in my everyday life. I may need to come back for your healing, clarifying touch many times, Lord.

I think I’m on the right road, but am I traveling that road in a faithful manner? Am I carrying the right crosses? As I was studying today’s Scripture readings, I was reminded of something Fr. Stefan Starzynski said in a homily at St. Mary of Sorrows parish several years ago: Many of us are carrying crosses that God never intended us to carry. What about any crosses I’m carrying? Are they crosses of my own construction? Am I carrying burdens that others have laid upon me that aren’t legitimately mine to drag through life?

What does losing my life to gain it look like in terms of my relationships with family, friends, co-workers, fellow Cursillistas? Am I really just living in the world or am I too attached to the things of this world?

Last, but hardly least, open my eyes, Lord, so I don’t unseeingly and uncaringly walk past the widows and orphans I encounter as I go through my days.

Action

As you walk with Jesus, what parts of your journey lack clarity, are out of focus or blurry? Ask the Lord to heal your blindness. You may have to come back more than once, perhaps many times. The journey spans a lifetime and some sections of the road are easier to see than others.