Sunday, March 22, 2020

Plunging into the Sent One during this time of isolation

Now the Jews did not believe
that he had been blind and gained his sight
until they summoned the parents of the one who had gained his sight.
They asked them,
“Is this your son, who you say was born blind?
How does he now see?”
His parents answered and said,
“We know that this is our son and that he was born blind.
We do not know how he sees now,
nor do we know who opened his eyes.
Ask him, he is of age;
he can speak for himself.”
His parents said this because they were afraid
of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed
that if anyone acknowledged him as the Christ,
he would be expelled from the synagogue.
For this reason his parents said,
“He is of age; question him.”
(John 9:18:23)

Sister Sandra M. Schneiders, in her brilliant exegesis of the Gospel of John, Written that You May Believe (The Crossroads Publishing Company, 1999, 2003), notes that the eminent biblical scholar Raymond Brown had labeled the parents of the Man Born Blind as "crypto-Christians" (p. 154).  She further explains in a footnote:
Raymond E. Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (New York: Paulist, 1979), 71-73, discusses this hypothesized group within the Johannine community who seem to appear here in chapter 9 and in 12:42-43.  Brown proposes that these characters in the Gospel who know who Jesus is and and what he does, or who even actually believe in Jesus, but are afraid to confess him because of fear of the Jewish authorities, are "closet Christians" whom the evangelist is challenging to courageous self-identification.
Schneiders deftly contrasts these cautious, prudent, non-committal parents with their son, the episode's protagonist:
... the method of healing, that is, sending the man to a distant location to wash in the pool of Siloam, "translated" by the evangelist as apestalmenos [Sent] which is virtually a proper name for Jesus in John, focuses attention not on Jesus' healing action of putting mud on the man's eyes, but on the man being "plunged into" Jesus, the Sent One (p.151).
While the parents are left standing at the edge of the baptismal pool, dipping their toe into the water to test the temperature, the blind man jumps into the deep end, letting the waters of initiation envelop him.

I can identify with the parents.  It's not easy for us to give ourselves completely over to Jesus.  "Letting go and letting God" is hard.   My instinct is to try to find ways to embrace Jesus without  severing my connection to my former way of life.  In truth, what Jesus calls us to do is what the Woman at the Well did in last week's Gospel reading: rather than stay rooted in her former way of life, she sought to convert that former way of life to life in Christ.  She told everyone in the town about her encounter with the one whom they had been expecting, and as a result, many came to believe in him.

This time of COVID-19 is extremely challenging for Americans, because we are being asked to set aside familiar patterns of life, and even undertake big sacrifices like giving up livelihoods, for the sake of others.  We are being asked to let go of many important things. This regimen of self-sacrifice for others runs contrary to our instincts.  The temptation is there to cut corners - to cheat.

Being so isolated already is starting to wear on me.  I've been bored at times.  I'm already tired of television.  I miss interacting in person with other humans.  I don't really have any entertainment to look forward to - no dinners out, no sporting events, no music or culture.  I can't go to mass anymore.  It won't surprise me if the other members of my family start to get on my nerves.  We shouldn't underestimate how difficult this is going to be.

A few days ago, I mentioned a thought from columnist Kevin Williamson, who had referred to something that Thomas Merton had written about monastic life.  The idea was that monastic life is not running away from life, it is running toward what is important.  Now that so many of us have had this quasi-monastic life imposed upon us, perhaps we can see it, not as a punishment or a sentence; perhaps it is a spiritual opportunity.  Perhaps the extraneities are being stripped away from our lives so that we can better apprehend the love of Jesus.  Even as we are forcibly separated from the body of Christ, let us try to find ways to plunge into the Sent One.  Perhaps we can do this by taking part in televised masses and prayer services.  Perhaps our enforced solitude can lead us to personal or family prayer.  Perhaps we can undertake to engage in prayerful immersion in the scriptures, such as lectio divina.  Perhaps we can rediscover, or lean more deeply into, forms of prayer and devotion which we haven't thought much about, whether that be rosaries, personal novenas or liturgies of the hours.  Perhaps, as our spending on personal entertainment diminishes, we can give alms more generously.   Even in this time of staying at home and disconnecting ourselves from society, let us try to find ways to plunge into the new life to which the Sent One beckons us.

3 comments:

  1. "Now that so many of us have had this quasi-monastic life imposed upon us, perhaps we can see it, not as a punishment or a sentence; perhaps it is a spiritual opportunity. Perhaps the extraneities are being stripped away from our lives so that we can better apprehend the love of Jesus."

    Yup. And you're right. It won't be easy.

    I think I believed the main challenge of my golden years was coming to terms with death. Nope. It's still coming to terms with life. I'm already dealing with an antsy spouse. If it come to adding a grown son and his three cats, ye gods. Hide the channel locks and baseball bats.

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  2. Thanks, Jim. I love the un-shortened version of this gospel. Of course they used the truncated version on the Mass for shut-ins from the archdiocese, since they had to fit it into their half hour slot. It is interesting that there is more time allotted to our local live-streamed daily Mass, for which I am really grateful.
    Yeah, even introverted me is missing social contact. I am friends with my choir members and of course we are on hiatus now. I am trying to reach out to friends and family members via texts who may be feeling the isolation.
    What I most regret is time lost with my granddaughters, not that we spent a great deal of time since they are 90 miles away. But enough time that when we saw them it wasn't a shock to see that they had grown another 2 inches and were no longer baby-faced. Childhood is such a short time, even thought we don't realize it when we are going through it.

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  3. Today's Gospel, along with last week's (the Samaritan woman) and next week's raising of Lazarus are the K-Tel hits of John's Gospel in my book. All should be read in full if possible. In fact, the in the last newsletter of our Wednesday men's group, someone wrote anent next week:

    "Next Week:... The story of the raising of Lazarus: John 11: 1-45. Any priest or deacon skipping verse 16 for a shorter reading must, as a penance, say three Hail Marys and slip $20 into the St. Vincent dePaul box. I mean it! (Made you look!)"

    Turns out the two threatened deacons won't be preaching next week, an maybe not until next year. The newsletter was written last week for next week and circulated with the cancellation notice. But those three Gospels are so stuffed with ideas someone could make a career out of only them.

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