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 Today's Readings
Dear Lord,
About that leper you met in today's gospel story: When the man fell on his knees before you and pleaded, "If you wish, you can make me clean"--what were the thoughts that first ran through your head? That first moment you laid eyes on him, what did you actually see?
The gospel says you were filled with pity, so you healed the leper and made him clean. But strangely you didn't do it the way we'd expect a god to--through a word or even just a thought. Either one would have been enough and would have done the job quite efficiently. Rather, you chose to heal the leper in a most human way--by stretching out your hand and by touching him.
You must have seen something in him that moved you to heal him in such a physical and intimate way. You didn't have to, but you did. Here was someone so long deprived of human touch, starving for years for some kind of contact--so you reached out and touched his leprous skin, and did so in your usual way: in full view of your stunned crowd of followers.
It took so little from you--just a little time and just a little touch--but it must have meant so much to the man. What a difference it must have all made. By touching him, you've done more than heal him; you've shown him just how much you cared for him and how much you wanted people to see that. By looking at him the way you did, he saw himself in your eyes and perhaps for the first time in a very long time, he remembered the person that he had once been, a person fully capable of being loved, and regained the self-worth that he had lost.
Lord, this morning, I fall before you and plead the same plea: "If you wish, you can make me whole." I know you wish it. I know that as you lay your eyes on me, you will see my wounds and scars--signs of the history of detours and dead ends in my life--but you will also mercifully see that person that I often myself forget I am, the person I was created to be, the person that you've always loved.
It is so easy to be forgetful and to reduce ourselves to something less--to our accomplishments, our possessions, our friendships. But when these go wrong, when we lose them as we sometimes do, we lose ourselves as well. If you lay your eyes on me, I will see how you see me--and I will remember who I am.
And perhaps you will also lay your hands on me, and if you do, I will remember whose I am.
As we wait for your touch, grant that we also lay our eyes and hands on those around us the way you do. Amen.
(image: endued.wordpress)
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Today's Readings
Dear Jesus,
In today's Gospel story, you healed a paralyzed man before the crowd. For some reason though, what caught my attention was not so much the miracle you performed, but the sheer determination of the paralytic's friends to bring him to you.
It must have been exhausting enough carrying the paralytic around. I wonder what their first thoughts were when they first beheld the crowd that gathered around you--and blocked the way! I'm sure they must have felt disappointed or even exasperated; maybe they even thought of going home, of postponing this task to another day. But after the initial discouragement, the friends decided to get it done anyway.
Anyone who has attended huge gatherings knows how difficult moving through a crowd can get. But to top it all, since the door was blocked, the friends climbed up so that they could open up the roof--risking the ire of the owner--in order to gently let their friend down right under your nose. Small wonder that it was their faith--not the paralytic's--that moved you to perform the miracle. After all, they clearly went the extra mile to bring their friend to you.
All this makes me think of all the people who have gone out of their way to bring me closer to you. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you once again for them. Because of the effort that they have exerted--in what they've done or said, and most especially in who they have been to me--I caught a better glimpse of you and have been blessed with a greater sense of your presence and love in my life.
This gospel story also makes me think of the times when my crowded life has blocked passage to you--when my clutter of concerns and worries have kept me from approaching you and getting closer to you. Like the paralytic's friends, I should not let any obstacle keep me from working my way towards you--and yet I realize that I have done that so often in the past.
Finally, I ask myself how I have been a "friend in the Lord" for others. I recall the times when unlike the paralytic's friends, I have allowed myself to be discouraged and disheartened when I seemed to fail in bringing others to you: Times when the words I preached fell short and simply scattered in the wind; times when no matter what I did, I couldn't seem to console those in mourning or no matter how I prayed, I couldn't seem to bring your healing to those who were sick--these occasions tempted me to believe less and to give up...
Today the friends of the paralyzed man are teaching me to keep the faith. Like them, the most I can do is to help create the opportunities for people to encounter you. Lord Jesus, there will be times when they may end up right under your nose the way the paralytic did. But there will be others when the most that can happen is that they recognize you or hear your voice from a distance. Whichever happens, the rest is up to them--and up to you. Who knows? After all, with you, everything is possible. Dear Jesus, help me to remember that my work ends with opening up this possibility. AMEN.
If you feel up to it, why don't you write a QUICK PRAYER?
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