Our trees are up, our halls are decked, and the house is relatively clean.  I mean, maybe we’re not quite ready for Charles and Camilla to visit,  but I’d not be embarrassed if, say, William and Catherine or Joe and Jill popped in.  For all practical purposes, we are ready for Christmas. 

What about y’all?  Shopping done?   Decorating finished?  Parties planned?  What does “being ready for Christmas” really mean? 

Today is the Second Sunday in Advent.  I’m about certain that every one of us has seen an “Advent Calendar.”  Those cute little things that count down until Christmas.  Whilst they can be fun and exciting, they really have nothing to do with “Advent” though.  Not really even close.  So, one might ask, “What is Advent?”  And, as is my custom, I’m gonna tell ya. 

Since the 900s, Advent has marked the beginning of the church year, and is a season of great anticipation, preparation, and excitement, traditionally focusing on the Nativity of the Christ Child, when Jesus came as our Savior.  During Advent, we as Christians also direct our thoughts to His second coming as judge.

The word Advent is from the Latin adventus, meaning coming,” and is celebrated during the four weeks of preparation for Christmas. Advent always contains four Sundays, beginning on the Sunday nearest the feast of St. Andrew the Apostle, (November 30) and continuing until December 24. It blends together a penitential spirit, very similar to Lent, a liturgical theme of preparation for the Second and Final Coming of the Lord, called the Parousia, and a joyful theme of getting ready for the Bethlehem event.

Advent is a time of preparation that is marked by prayer. Advent’s   prayers are prayers of humble devotion and commitment, prayers of submission, prayers for deliverance, prayers from those walking in darkness who are awaiting and anticipating a great light (Isaiah 9).  

So whilst we are preparing our homes for Christmas, should we not also be preparing our hearts and minds?   We all of us know that Christmas is on 25 December, and that’s when we celebrate Jesus’s birth.  What we don’t know, however, is when Jesus is coming back. 

In the Gospel appointed for today, St. John the Baptist says to his disciples, and to us:

” as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah:

    A voice of one crying out in the desert:

    “Prepare the way of the Lord,

        make straight his paths.

    Every valley shall be filled

        and every mountain and hill shall be made low.

    The winding roads shall be made straight,

        and the rough ways made smooth,

    and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

As we go about “getting ready” for Christmas, let us not forget what, and more importantly, WHO,  we are really ‘getting ready” for.   I invite each of you to have a most blessed, holy, and prayerful Advent.  Amen.

Well folks….Today is one of those days…..You know, one of those days that folks forget about during this season.  One of those days that folks fuss about or one of those days that folks ignore completely.  “HUH?” you might ask.  “Has Bishop Michael lost his mind?”  (Perhaps.  Those of you who know me well can answer that one later, but anyway….)  Today is one of those days that are included in the much misaligned greeting, “Happy Holidays!”  Yep, today is a holiday.

Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Nicholas, aka the person upon which our dear Santa Claus was modeled.  Now, just who was this guy?  Imma tell ya.

The true story of Santa Claus begins with Nicholas, who was born during the third century in the village of Patara. At the time the area was Greek and is now on the southern coast of Turkey. His wealthy parents, who raised him to be a devout Christian, died in an epidemic while Nicholas was still young. Obeying Jesus’ words to “sell what you own and give the money to the poor,” Nicholas used his whole inheritance to assist the needy, the sick, and the suffering. He dedicated his life to serving God and was made Bishop of Myra while still a young man. Bishop Nicholas became known throughout the land for his generosity to those in need, his love for children, and his concern for sailors and ships.

Under the Roman Emperor Diocletian, who ruthlessly persecuted Christians, Bishop Nicholas suffered for his faith, was exiled and imprisoned. The prisons were so full of bishops, priests, and deacons, there was no room for the real criminals—murderers, thieves and robbers. After his release, Nicholas attended the Council of Nicaea (from which we get the Nicene Creed) in AD 325. He died December 6, AD 343 in Myra and was buried in his cathedral church, where a unique relic, called manna, formed in his grave. This liquid substance, said to have healing powers, fostered the growth of devotion to Nicholas. The anniversary of his death became a day of celebration, St. Nicholas Day, December 6^th.

Now, how did St. Nicholas transform into Santa Claus?  It’s in the language.  The Dutch brought St. Nicholas to the US with them.  Yep, in Dutch, St. Nicholas is “Sinterklaas.”  Get it?  Pretty awesome how languages work! 

For those of you who are interested, there is a very rich history that one can find of the process in which this holy man, St. Nicholas, became our Santa Claus.  Google is an awesome thing!

So, I wish you a very blessed and happy Feast of St. Nicholas today!

+Michael, OPI

A small private plane was flying with three passengers on board: an old priest, a rich businessman and a boy scout. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and stopped altogether. They all rushed to get their parachutes. They were alarmed to realize that there were not enough parachutes for all of them. One of them will be left without one. The pilot took one, saying, “I have a wife and two kids. They need me.” And off he jumped. The businessman, seeing that the boy was holding a parachute, grabbed it away from him, saying, “I am a very important person in this world. I must not die!’ And putting the straps on his shoulders, he quickly jumped out of the plane. Only the priest and the boy were left on the plane. The priest told the boy, “Son, take the last parachute. I am old and I have no family. I’m ready to leave this world. You are still young and have a great future. Save your life.” The boy, with a naughty smile, said, “Don’t worry, Father. There are still two parachutes left. The ‘very important man in the world’ just jumped out wearing my backpack.”

We are now in the new liturgical period, and this is the first Sunday of Advent. The Season of Advent is a period of four Sundays in anticipation of Christmas. The readings are not about chestnuts roasting on an open fire and Santa Claus or instructing us to begin decorating our homes for Christmas, or about the forthcoming parties and vacations. Instead, they are referring to the terrible events occurring at the end of the world. Jesus explains the events in the Gospel with clarity: the frightening signs in the sun, the moon and the stars, the roaring of the sea and the waves, and people will die of fright. Some of us may even wonder: Is Jesus such a party pooper who likes to spoil the fun? The Gospel, far from spoiling the enjoyment, sets everything in a proper perspective. St. Luke is not trying to deceive us with such devastating words. He is just telling the truth and reality of our existence: everything in this world is going to end. Nothing is permanent. This world and everything in it going to stop. Our life, our body is gone. Rather than frightening us, these are words of hope. Amidst life’s fragility and the uncertainties of the world, Jesus, referred to as the Son of Man, is said to arrive “in a cloud with power and great glory.” “When these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand” (Lk 21:28).

The message is very clear. We will surely be disappointed if we are putting our hopes on anything in this world. This is like the man in our story who jumped out of the airplane, not with a parachute on his back, but with the boy’s backpack. This is what is truly terrifying: to confront all these tribulations without God, and to put everything in the hands of an earthly object or person. Let us therefore look to Jesus. In the aftermath of all these passing circumstances, He is our only assurance and hope for eternity and fullness of life. Hence, Jesus admonishes us: “Be vigilant at all times and pray that you have the strength to overcome the tribulations that are imminent and to stand before the Son of Man” Tribulations, troubles and disasters are already present. These are clear signs of the unreliable nature of our planet and how limited these worldly realities are. We must be vigilant and ask God in prayer so that despite all these, we will still be able to stand before the Son of Man and be saved. Becoming too absorbed in worldly worries, being intoxicated with our selfish ambitions and thirst for power, being occupied in fleeting pleasures and luxury are definitely not the proper ways to “be able to stand before the Son of Man.”

Unfortunately, this is precisely what people are into. Jesus referred to this when he said, “But when the Son of Man returns, will he find faith on earth?” (Lk 18:8). Let it be a Year of Faith and be a time of renewed commitment and embracing God, reinforcing our faith in God, and proclaiming the Good News of God’s love with joy to our contemporary society. The Advent Season is a time for preparation: for Christmas, for the rebirth of things, and for our own death. The readings are not spoilers; they are reminders. They remind us that everything is passing away, and so let us look up to Jesus. He is not just the backpack; he is the parachute of salvation. If we stay faithful and obedient to Him, we are assured of eternal happiness and glory. As we begin the Advent Season, let it be our firm resolve to heed seriously the call of St. Paul in the second reading: love one another more than ever, conduct yourselves to be pleasing to the Lord, and be blameless in His sight (1Thes 3:12).

Today we come together to celebrate the feast day  of St. Andrew the Apostle.   Andrew was Jesus’ very first disciple. Let us reflect on one of the qualities of Andrew:  that quality being his of∙his readiness to respond to our Lord Jesus Christ’s call to follow him.

We hear Andrew’s call story today in today’s Holy Gospel reading of MT 4:18=22. As Jesus walks along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he notices two brothers, Simon Peter & Andrew, who were engrossed in their daily work of fishing. As Andrew & Peter cast their nets into the sea, Jesus calls to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men!”

This call must have caught the brothers’ attention. – They must’ve wondered what Jesus could possibly have meant by saying, to be fishers of men. However, Andrew responded wholeheartedly to Jesus’ call.

Andrew followed Jesus – without any reservations or any hesitation – Most likely with a lot of curiosity, but never the less, with total devotion – Andrew immediately left his fishing nets, perhaps letting them sink into the water.

Andrew had a heart which was prepared to hear & to heed Jesus’ call, with all that he had & all that he was. Because Andrew’s heart was prepared for Jesus, he did not have to be in a holy place like in a Church to hear his call, neither did he need to have been going about particularly holy work to perceive Jesus’ call to him. Andrew heard Jesus call in the midst of his ordinary daily  life’s work,  during his usual  routine day, at a moment when he was casting his fishing net out into the waters of the sea.

Andrew was held near to the word as summarized in the 10 Commandments.

The word as condensed by Jesus into the two great commandments,

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. And love your neighbour as yourself.

This word – this instruction for living in a way that brings both self & neighbours closer to God – was alive within Andrew’s life – it was on his lips & in his heart.

Jewish people living in Andrew’s time & for centuries before had studied God’s word – they had engaged God’s Holy Scripture – in very active, dynamic, & relational ways:

by reciting it out loud to one another & in groups;

by soaking up the spoken words & paying close attention;

by the struggle that is teaching & learning;

by discussing what this word meant for them in lively, curious, creative, & probing ways.

This encounter with God through the Word — through the living of Scripture in everyday life— enabled Andrew to perceive so much more than the written word which had come to life in him. Andrew was able to perceive the Word made Flesh, Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the midst of an ordinary, routine day. The word is very near to all of us as Christians and followers of Our Lord Jesus Christ. The word should be in our mouths and on our lips, & in our heart, our soul, and  in our minds for us to observe.

The Word made Flesh, Jesus the Christ, is very near us.. calling us through our sacred scripture…through the bread & the wine of The Holy Eucharist … through the our which share the Peace…through our voices lifted in song, prayer, and praise…through our faces & our personalities in church and in our everyday lives.

 May each of us together… learn from Andrew how near these words of God are…how they seek unceasingly to engage & to dwell with us…that we may respond wholeheartedly to Jesus when he calls us…that we may participate together, in community, in the life everlasting.

Let us pray:

O Glorious St. Andrew, you were the first to recognize and follow the Son of God. With your friend, St. John, you remained with Jesus, for your entire life, and now throughout eternity. Just as you led your brother, St Peter, to Christ and many others after him, draw us also to Him. Teach us how to lead them, solely out of love for Jesus and dedication to His service. Help us to learn the lesson of the Cross and carry our daily crosses without complaint, so that they may carry us to God the Almighty Father. Amen.

It is possible to win all the battles and yet in a certain manner, the war will be lost. I have come to see this, but it has been a long time. I recall being a teenager, causing a family feud because I wanted to watch a film that no one else wanted to see. I got my way, and I enjoyed the movie, but did I? However, even in the absence of a loving family, there was a price to pay, the aftermath of a small family dispute. Was it worth it? The movie was excellent, but I can barely recall it now. Memories of the dispute remain much stronger. Like many trivial battles, when one is caught in the midst of it, it appears to be so important. Once one takes a step back, the victory appears to be very small.

It is easy to think of dominant individuals as victorious. They get what they want pretty much all the time. Lives are carefully constructed for personal comfort. However, this lacks the amount that usually must be paid. The price is love, whether it is the ability to love or the condition of being loved. People tend to avoid those who always insist on their way; family members visit out of a sense of obligation. Even if cherished, there is not the same trust, the same desire to be in their company, who would have been otherwise. That is a loss, a serious loss. It is a loss that is often not recognized. Haven’t they got everything they want? However, it is possible to win all the battles and yet lose the war. Despite all the victories, victories that occur in the end of the day rarely exceed much.

In the meeting of Pilate and Jesus, we meet the representative of Imperial Rome with Christ the Universal King. To convey Christ as Universal King is, among other things, to be reminded that while there is a kind of kingship that is built on power and domination, the true kingship, that of Christ, is not like that. However, if we understand that it can be difficult to understand as a cliché and do not convey the profound truth at its center.

A good way to enter the mystery of the Kingship of Christ is to observe as best we can on the nature of power as it works in reality. Think about our own lives, or, more dramatically, about the lives of some of the important figures of history. Did their splendor or admiration show them really provide genuine peace or happiness? Is it more an attempt to calm down without never-ending desires? To ask questions like these is not to adopt a plan to make us feel more confident about our meagre state. It is to ask challenging questions about what is essential to us, where our priorities should be, and what it is to be truly human.

The Feast of Christ as Universal King is, among other things, a reminder of a profound truth about our lives, about where true happiness is to be found and where it is not to be found. When Christ asserts that his kingdom is not of this world, he is not only telling us that to put our trust in power and domination is emptiness and folly, but also providing us with an alternative. The alternative is love. That may sound stale, and it can be presented as stale, but nothing could be further from the truth.

This is something that is not always easy to see. It can be much easier to acknowledge the Kingship of Christ in our daily lives than deep in our hearts. I believe most of us are like that at times, if we’re honest about it.

When we take a step back from our lives, when we reflect and pray, is there a deep understanding of where true happiness is to be found and where it is not to be found? It may be a sense that the daily grind of life may try to drown, that we may even try to extinguish, but it is a sense that refuses to go away. It refuses to go away because it reveals a profound understanding of God’s plan for us. We may not always perceive it, but if we reflect on what true victory and power really are, as revealed in the loving Kingship of Christ, we can see that there is a kind of victory that makes such complete sense that we might well wonder why we so often fail to see it.

We’ve all had that experience of joining a group of friends who are mid-conversation, and finding that, at least at first, what they’re saying makes no sense to us. Without the context of what they have been saying, it is difficult to understand the meaning of the words they are saying.

Perhaps we are feeling that way about our lives a lot of the time. Instead of making sense, our lives appear disjointed and confusing, and it’s difficult to find a meaning in the things that happen.

People say, “Everything happens for a reason”, but that’s precisely because it doesn’t look that way. If the reasons behind the things that happen in our lives were clear, we wouldn’t spend any time at all trying to persuade ourselves that things happened for a reason. But it isn’t so obvious.

One way of responding to this lack of meaning is to try to create meaning for us. A lot of people nowadays think it’s up to us to create the meaning in our lives. We must decide on a purpose for our lives, heroically make something of ourselves. I don’t think that works, and it’s all very exhausting!

Part of what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel is the idea that our lives, indeed the whole history of humanity, the whole universe, already has a meaning and a purpose: we’re just ignoring it. He seems to think that the meaning is pretty clear, as openly obvious as the coming of summer, the signs which herald the passing of the seasons.

Sometimes, it’s difficult to accept that the way things are going in the world has nothing to do with God. Our news is filled with tragedy and suffering. It doesn’t feel like God is in charge. However, even in the darkest stories, there is often a sign of hope. There are people fleeing their countries and people trying to stop them coming here, but there are also individuals working to make them feel welcomed and to care for them.

In our own lives, I think we often see, especially looking back, a story to our own lives which was not our making. When I think of the various events in my life that nudged me towards joining the Dominicans, it’s quite unnerving, because I begin to realize that all my own decisions, some of them made for good reasons, but some even made for rather selfish ones, took me down a path I had not planned to be on.

I say “unnerving” because I have to come to realize that my life and its meaning and purpose are not my own. I can try all I like to give meaning to my life, I can have as many plans as I want, but ultimately none of that amounts too much. The meaning of my life, the story I find there, is being told, not by me, but by God. I don’t mean he says that story in a way that makes my choices irrelevant, but even when I make bad choices, God can use them to move the story in the direction he wants.

Understanding our lives, then, is not about heroically creating meaning. It’s about discovering the meaning that is already there, our part in the greatest story ever told, the history of the whole universe, as told by its Creator, the God who loves us.

Making sense of what’s going on involves seeing things more and more in the light of the revelation that God has given us in Jesus. Things can seem confusing and disjointed, a bit like arriving in a conversation part way through. In that conversation, of course, the people talking have no difficulty knowing what’s going on, and the more we listen and adopt their perspective, the more it makes sense to us too.

Something similar happens in our lives. The more we come to share the perspective of God, particularly in prayer, the more the story becomes our story, and the more we see the sense of it. I’m not sure we will ever know fully this side of eternity, and knowing the meaning sometimes doesn’t make it any less difficult. However, the glimpses we have now give us hope that one day, we will be able to understand as fully as we are known, and love will be all in all.

God loves us.  We see this in Jesus, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).  God’s love for us has no limitations.

In return, we are called to love the Lord our God with our heart, with our soul, mind, and strength. We are called to love God with our entire being. As part of this we are called to love what God has created.  That means loving our neighbor for everyone is God’s creation.

God loves us when we are conceived in our mother’s womb and for eternity. It is our choice to respond in love.  This weekend we have who seek God’s love in a new way in their lives. 

At baptism we asked six questions.  The first three ask if we “reject Satan” and “his empty promises.”  Then we are asked if we believe in God the Father as our creator.  Do we believe in Jesus his Son who was crucified for us?  Do we believe in the Holy Spirit?

When we hear these questions, we respond “I do” but how much do you think about what it means to say I do?  Are there ways in which we do not love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength?  Do we always love our neighbor?

Let’s face it.  It is not easy to love at this level.  Sometimes I wonder if we even know what it means to “love”?

Is “love” a noun or a verb?

As a noun we can think of the love that God gives us.  We can think of the love that we share with each other.

Then, is love just a thing?

No, if we have love, then we are going to love not just in saying we love but to show our love in our actions.  In this sense, love is a verb.  Love is something we do.

Love means caring about people.  We see God’s love in giving his Son Jesus for us.  God also loves us in giving us commandments.  God does not give us commandments to get us to do things for him.  God gives us commandments that are good for us, that will lead us to have a “long life” and to “grow and prosper.”

God’s commandments are good for us.  Are we willing to listen?  Do we strive to follow them, knowing we can trust in God’s perfect love?

The first three of the Ten Commandments point us to know what it means to love God, to have no other gods and to keep the Sabbath holy.  The remaining seven Commandments point out to us to know what it means to love our neighbor.  If we love our neighbor, we respect what they have to say.  We do not steal from them or look at them as objects of lust.  We don’t kill or hurt them.  We do not covet their property or family.

God loves us.  Knowing this we need let go of trying to be our own saviors in this material world and recognize God as the source of true strength and to make him our rock and fortress knowing that He is our deliverer.

The Feast of Sts Simon and Jude.

My dearest Brothers and sisters-in-Christ:

Today we come together as the church to celebrate the feast day of Saints Simon and Jude. Little is known about either of these saints apart from the fact that they were called by Jesus to be among his band of disciples and were later named amongst the Apostles.

Let us first take a look at St. Simon:

Simon was a simple Galilean, a brother of Jesus, as the ancients called close relatives in those times, including such as uncles and first cousins. He was one of the Saviour’s four first cousins, together with James, Jude and Joseph. These were all sons of Mary, the wife of Alpheus, or Cleophas, both names being a derivative of the Aramaic Chalphai. According to tradition Cleophas was the brother of Saint Joseph, Jesus earthly father. All the sons of this family were raised at Nazareth, close neighbours of the Holy Family.

All were called by Our Lord to be Apostles: pillars of his Church. Saint Mark tells us that Simon was born in Cana, the place, according to Saint John, of Jesus’ first miracle. Some traditions identify Simon as the bridegroom at that wedding and suggest that he became a disciple as a direct response to witnessing that miracle, a miracle that was, after all, performed, at the request of Mary, to get the newly-weds out of a somewhat embarrassing predicament.

Saint Simon is not mentioned anywhere in the New Testament except in lists of the Apostles’ names.

Tradition has it that Saint Simon preached in Mauretania (an area which approximated to present day north-west Africa and southern Spain), in Egypt and in Libya, leaving behind him the fertile hills of Galilee, where he had been engaged in cultivation of the vineyards and olive gardens. He later rejoined his brother Jude in Persia (modern day Iran) where they laboured and died together, probably martyred, hence the change to a red altar frontal in their honour on this their feast day. At first the Persian king respected them, for they had manifested power over two ferocious tigers that had terrorised the land. With their king, sixty thousand Persians became Christians, and churches rose over the ruins of the idolatrous temples. However, when they visited other parts of the Persian kingdom unconverted, pagan hordes commanded them to offer sacrifices to the Sun god. They prayed for mercy and offered their lives to the living God but the idolaters fell on the two Apostles and massacred them, while they blessed God and prayed for their murders.

Now let us take a look at Saint Jude:

Saint Jude is also known by a variety of other names. He is called Lebbaeus in Matthew chapter ten and Thaddaeus in Mark chapter three.

In the end of our Bibles, we find The Epistle of Jude. It is a short work of only one chapter containing just 25 verses. Here we are warned against corrupt influences that have crept into the church.

St. Jude is often and popularly referred to as the patron saint of desperate or lost causes, the one who is asked for help when all else fails. Possibly due to prayers for intercession, to be asked of the other Apostles first. Hence, Jude has come to be called ‘the saint of last resort’, the one whom we ask only when desperate.

What, then, can we in today’s world learn from the lives of these two relatively unknown Apostles?  Firstly, they, like the rest of the twelve, ‘forsook all and followed Jesus. Can we be accused of doing that? Could we, and should we, give up some of our modern comforts and privileges and live our lives more like our Lord? Secondly, if tradition tells us, St Simon was the recipient of Jesus’ first miracle. We should be reminded that, even two thousand years later, that miracles still happen. We must always be aware that the Holy Spirit is at work in the world and he does not always do things in the way in which we would have him do them.

Thirdly, judging by his epistle, Saint Jude proved to be an avid supporter of gospel truths.

So then, are we truly passionate enough about the tenets and doctrines of our faith? Do we hold fast to the creedal affirmations of the Church?

Both Sts Simon and Jude, spent their lives preaching the gospel to a very pagan world and it is believed that they died a martyr’s death for their faith. We may not be called to be martyrs like they were (hopefully), but we shall be called to make other sacrifices. Are we ready to suffer for the sake of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?

Let us, thank God for the lives of his Apostles Saint Simon and Saint Jude.

Let us pray:

Father, you revealed yourself to us through the preaching of your apostles Simon and Jude.  By their prayers, give your Church continued growth and increase the number of those who believe in you.

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

This Sunday’s Gospel passage tells us of the physical healing of a blind man. The gift of sight.  Yet it also sets out for us a journey of insight which the man undergoes as he comes into contact with Christ and which leads not just to his being healed of a bodily handicap, but to his becoming a full disciple of Christ, to his following Jesus ‘on the way,’ that ancient phrase for being a Christian.  It is as a story of insight that the man born blind becomes a model for all of us as we look to understand what it means for us to be ‘on the way’ to and with Christ.

We see this journey of insight unfold in the different names the blind man uses for Christ, as he calls on Christ with ever increasing determination and as he becomes known to Christ.

At the beginning, the blind man is named Bar Timaeus. Not just a blind man, but someone known. Although Bar Timaeus was known to the early Church as a disciple of Christ, one of the Church’s own members.

At the beginning of the Gospel story, he is just a blind beggar on the roadside from Jericho to Jerusalem. A man who hears that Jesus of Nazareth, the famous healer, is passing by. Now, it is his own chance to get his own physical sight back.

What he cries out is, ‘Jesus son of David, have mercy on me.’ What does he mean? Is it just an honorable title, a way to get attention, or does he recognize Jesus as the Messiah? At least, when others around him try to shut him up, he keeps on ever more loudly and insistently, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.’

The blind beggar has the words of recognition, but if he is aware of their significance, it is another thing. He wants the gift of sight, but at the same time, he is also on the way to understand who the Jesus of Nazareth truly is, but how far he is away from this situation is uncertain. It is at this point that the blind man encounters Christ. He has received Christ’s attention, and, in his enthusiasm, the blind man casts off his cloak and rushes to where Jesus is.

When Christ asks him what he wishes to do for him, the blind man changes the way he addresses Christ. No longer, ‘Son of David, but ‘Master’ – a more intimate and committed term, a term no longer of distant recognition, but of one who confesses himself to be a disciple.  In fact, the English of the RSV does not do full justice to the significance of the term being used, for the Greek text preserves the Aramaic ‘Rabbuni,’ ‘My master, my rabbi,’ the same term preserved in encounter between Mary Magdalene and the Risen Christ.  ‘My master,’ the one to whom I come to for teaching and insight, the one in whom I have placed my trust and love.

The blind man has shifted to a greater recognition of who the Jesus of Nazareth is. How much he understands the term he is using at this point, again we do not know. He is using the term and is right to do so. Certainly, some changes, some deepening in his understanding of Christ, have occurred. When Christ asks him what he wants, even though he clearly still wants physical sight, he begins to prove that he is open to the gift of insight.

And, thus, when the passage ends, as the man is healed and sees again, he also comes to have the insight that Christ is more than just the miracle worker, more than someone who meets his immediate physical needs, that Christ is the master from whom he wants to know and experience the truth about human life and flourishing.  Not to go on his own way, but to follow Christ on Christ’s way, the way of discipleship.  The blind man has become the Bar Timaeus of the Church, one who in his encounter with Christ and in his own enthusiastic response to Christ has also to be recognized himself as more than a blind beggar, and as a human being with a distinct identity and value in the sight of God and his fellow human beings.

This journey of insight Bar Timaeus is a model for us.  In our own encounter with Christ, we also embark on a journey of increasing recognition of who Christ is and a corresponding purification of our desires. As with Bar Timaeus, it is only when we make demands on Christ and come closer to him and he to us that we discover ourselves confronted with the question of who we truly believe Christ is and what we do desire Christ to do for us. Are we using titles for him without any real grasp of their significance?  Or, is Christ the one who teaches us about the proper meaning and reality of human life – and who offers the realization of it.

When we make demands of Christ and as we ask these question, our ideas about him and desires are challenged and purified, as Christ becomes more than a figure of the past or of ancient texts or religious traditions, and becomes, ‘My master.’ And it is at that point that we ourselves start to follow him on ‘his way,’ not ‘our own way.’