It’s amazing what we humans are able to get used to. We develop a great tolerance for what we’ve experienced over time. We form habits, and the longer we live with them, the harder it is to grow beyond them. We can even begin to believe that these habits are part of who we are, and how we are meant to act. They’re not. They’re just habits we picked up along the way and have become comfortable with. But what if something happens to us and we suddenly realize that there’s more to life than our habitual modes?
The town of Bethsaida (literally, the house of fishing) is about two miles north of the Sea of Galilee, and east of the Jordan River. It’s known as the home of the apostles, Peter, Andrew and Philip. In the Eighth Chapter of the Gospel of Mark (Mark 8:23-26), Jesus has just crossed the sea, as he often did getting around Galilee. In the boat, he has just had another frustrating exchange with his closest disciples. Jesus tried to warn them against the way of influence of the Pharisees (using the Law to lord it over people) and of Herod (using power to keep control and maintain his privileged status).The disciples didn’t get it. For them, power, privilege, and religion were all good means for achieving a “righteous” end. Wasn’t that what the Messiah was supposed to do?
Jesus disembarks and heads with his little band into Bethsaida. Right away, some of the townspeople bring a blind man to Jesus to apply his wonderful touch and cure him. Jesus gently leads the man by the hand outside of town. He walks slowly, making sure the man doesn’t stumble over the rough ground, perhaps conversing with the man: What’s your name? Where’s your home? Tell me about your family. What work do you do? When and how did you become blind? What do most miss seeing? What are you doing in Bethsaida?
Then Jesus describes what he is about to do, and asks the man if this would be okay with him. The man, who had been a bit apprehensive at first, is now at ease with Jesus and allows him to proceed. Jesus, using a very basic healing substance, applies spittle to the man’s unseeing eyes and gently places his hands on them. Jesus asks, “What do you see?” The man replies, “I see people, but they look a bit strange, like trees walking around.” Jesus places his hands on the man’s eyes a second time, and the man can see clearly. He is healed and can now see everything plainly with no distortions. Jesus invites him to return to his home and family – those who know and love him, and says, “Don’t go back into the town.
Wow! There’s so much in these few verses. Why did the people in the town ask Jesus to deal with the blind man? Remember, it wasn’t the blind man who sought out Jesus. Was it concern that moved them to bring him to Jesus, or just an attempt to remove an uncomfortable civic annoyance? Was he bothersome, sitting in the marketplace day after day, begging for his living? Yes, it is one of the “good works” to give him some little alms, but… He had lost the ability to do his life work (fishing?). He had become a label – that blind man, the beggar – with no dreams, desires, family, home… Did he become the town’s burden? Of course we who are enlightened wouldn’t treat a beggar like that, would we?
Jesus treated him as a someone, human, not a problem, beloved of God, not accursed, as some thought and taught. And his healing? Sometimes we don’t see reality clearly right away. It can take a second correction and a second look. The healing of our blindnesses takes time. First we need to realize how much we cannot see. (Awareness precedes change.) Jesus stays with us until we can see fully and well. Then he advises us, don’t go back to your old ways, go to those who love you, who desire that you be completely whole, your best self.
Jana Buckley says:
The way the introduction was brought into the summary really helped tie the entire piece together. I liked the use of this encounter with Jesus to help us see and feel the realistic exchange. Bringing the cultural climate into the picture adds the opportunity to show (not just tell) how our habits do become ingrained.