BACK TALK

 

I was sitting there in front of the blessed sacrament at 5:30 this morning with my back aching, as usual. ('ve started going to specialists for the condition because the pain and discomfort are really intruding into my daily life.) I picked up the gospel passage for Sunday, Oct. 24 is Mark 10:46-52, the story of the healing of the blind man, Bartimaeus, and began looking for a verse to meditate on.

You remember that in the story Bartimaeus keeps crying out to Jesus, "Helpme!" Jesus, hearing his cry for help, stops and asks that his apostles bring Bartimaeus over to him. The next verse caught my attention. The apostles say to the blind man, "Take courage, get up, Jesus is calling you." With my lumbar spine competing for my attention, I reread those words "Take courage, Jesus is calling you."    

I decided to invite my spine into the conversation, and asked what this pain can contribute to my meditation. My lumbar spine answered immediately, "Don't you get it? This morning Jesus is telling you to have courage, because through this pain he's calling to you. He must have something to say to you."

True, I have been reflecting a lot recently on the mystery of suffering. and on the Christian's belief that suffering is at the very heart of our faith, that thanks to the Cross of Christ, it has meaning, it's bound up with God's infinite, tender love for us. So, this morning that belief was being "road-tested," you could say. So, as I shifted and twisted in my chair, I let myself hear the apostles' words directed to me: "Take courage, through your pain Jesus is calling you!" 

It was Jesus' very personal way of addressing me in my discomfort. He seemed to be inviting me to see my little bit of suffering as a share of the suffering of my brothers and sister around the globe who are really suffering.

He seemed, next, to be inviting me to lift my gaze slightly from the monstrance containing the sacred Host of the Blessed Sacrament, so as to gaze on his broken, crucified body hanging on the cross in the sanctuary. He seemed to be saying, "Take courage. Trust me, all of this suffering really does make sense." Spoken from the cross, these words had a lot more impact on me.

Rabin Mondal Genocide (1972) Oil on canvas 

I sensed that the Lord had indeed called me over to hear his words of encouragement this morning. And even as I shifted once more in my chair I could feel his healing hand on my heart. On my lumbar spine? Not so much.