Today’s question is to be answered within your own heart, within your own, personal being. It’s a simple question, but with a complex answer. My question is this: When you look into a mirror, whom do you see? Is that person older than you’d expect – with a new wrinkle on the forehead or around the eyes? Does that image smile? Or is there a frown? Is the person staring back at you happy or sad? Perhaps, like Ziggy, that improbable, blob-like cartoon character, the image in the mirror may seem to have a life of its own. It’s not really you but someone else. Whom, or what, do you see when you look into a mirror?
Today’s gospel reading is about seeing. It’s about a man who had no need for a mirror. He’s blind. He is the blind beggar who sits outside the walls of Jericho. He has no name other than that of his father. He is called merely “the son of Timaeus,” Bar-Timaeus. He sits there each day. His cloak is spread out in front of him on the hard ground. He hopes a kindly passer-by will toss a coin or two onto the cloak so he can gather them up and live another day. In the evening, he wraps this threadbare garment around himself and hopes it will keep him warm during the night, so he’ll reach another day, a day just like each of the ones which have gone before.
But today, this day, there’s a difference in the air. The crowds outside the gates of Jericho are talking about the man from Nazareth, the one who has been preaching throughout the land during the last year or so. Today, he’s leaving Jericho for Jerusalem. The blind son of Timaeus has heard about this man, the one who is said to be a healer. He calls out to him. But he does not call the name of Jesus. Instead, he shouts out an ancient phrase: “Son of David.” The blind son of Timaeus calls for help from the son of the ancient hero-leader, David. David who brought salvation to the Israelites. The blind man calls upon the one who might now save him from his own afflictions. Jesus hears the name by which he is being called, Son of David. He wants this man brought to him.
The blind son of Timaeus tosses aside his cloak, the cloak holding the meager coins which would have bought him another day of existence, the cloak he needed for protection against the night. He tossed aside his past life and went towards the voice calling him. The voice spoke a question: “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind son of Timaeus replied, “Master, I want to see.”
And Jesus said, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” But the now-seeing son of Timaeus did not go his own way. Instead, he followed Jesus on the way, on the way to Jerusalem where this Son of David would be greeted by others shouting this name, others who later shouted for his death. The now-seeing son of Timaeus followed “the Way” and saw the Son of David nailed to a tree. The blind man whose sight was restored by the last healing miracle reported in Mark’s Gospel, he saw the end of the life of Jesus. But, perhaps, he also witnessed the beginning of the life of Christ.
Each of us has the same opportunity. Each of us, at every Eucharist, is given the chance to see. And what do we see? What do you see when Father John elevates the host? What do you see when the Eucharistic minister shows you the body and blood of Christ? Do you see the immense power of the universe, itself, contained within this small object in front of your own eyes? Do you see the new Covenant offered by God to you? Are you able to look and then turn away to pursue your own worldly goals or do you see with new eyes and follow the way. His Way.
When you look into the mirror of your life, whom do you see? Do you see only your own image staring back at you? Or do you see someone called by God? Someone who is to follow Him … “on the Way?”
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 26, 2003
Jer 31: 7-9; Heb 5: 1-6; Mk 10: 46-52