Tag: Kate Taliaferro

Lately, I have been listening to the soundtrack from the musical Hamilton. The song sung by Aaron Burr, Wait For It, has been especially captivating. The song is about how Burr has hopes and dreams, but also feels the weight of needing to leave some kind of legacy. In the tension between wants and oughts, he finds himself unable to pick sides. He keeps his opinions to himself, never fully committing to one side or the other for fear of choosing wrongly. This feature song expresses his desire to be patient, waiting for the moment he was made for, the time he’s supposed to shine.

The problem with waiting like Burr is that very often, the moment you’re waiting for passes you by. Perhaps you don’t recognize it for what it is, since you are so in the habit of waiting for what could be coming next. Or, you never see the moment because in order for it to arrive you had to make a hard choice in one direction or the other. 

In our Gospel today, Bartimaeus is begging on the side of the road. He is blind, but hears the crowd approaching. His ears pick up the words, “It is Jesus!” “Jesus of Nazareth is coming! Quick, get your mother/father/sister/brother so He can heal them!”

Bartimaeus has been waiting, and waiting, and waiting to be healed. He is at a crossroads. Will he lean into hope, or be held back by despair? If he calls out, will anyone hear him? He doesn’t have anyone to advocate for him, no one to draw attention to his case. The crowd is huge, even he can tell that. How could Jesus even hear him, let alone see him? 

But he does call out an act of faith and hope. He is pushed aside, others tell him to sit back down, and stay in his place. “Who are you to ask for a miracle? Why should Jesus heal you?”

A greater act of faith and hope, a defiant one even in the midst of the crowd’s rejection: “Son of David, have pity on me!”

Bartimaeus is bold. His call to Jesus is one with multiple acts of faith. First, he has faith Jesus will take pity on him and stop at all. Second, that Jesus’ pity will move Him to restore Bartimaeus’ sight. Third, and perhaps most important, Bartimaeus doesn’t just call Jesus, “Jesus”. He names Him as the “Son of David”, a title which points toward Jesus’ identity as the Messiah. 

Bartimaeus did not wait for the perfect moment. He was not timid nor lukewarm in his request. Bartimaeus is a model for all of us to boldly proclaim Jesus’ identity as the Lord of our lives and in Him do we place our hope and trust. We should not wait for things to be perfect before coming to God with our hopes and dreams. The perfect moment is the moment we bring them to God, trusting in His mercy and love.

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Poor Jesus. Honestly, sometimes when reading Gospel passages like this one can’t you just feel His sigh before He answers? Jesus is God and possesses patience beyond our understanding, but He is also human and gets frustrated and upset like any of us. If I had to place myself in this scene, I think there may have been some exasperation in Jesus’ voice at this line of questioning the Pharisees go with. 

Pharisees: Let’s test Jesus and try to catch him in his words. 

Jesus: Oh Israel, when will you ever learn? What did God say to Moses? Why?

Pharisees: He said it was fine.

Jesus: No, it was permitted because of your stubbornness and hardness of heart, which, by the way, is fully on display for all to see today. When will you learn to see with God’s perspective, an eternal perspective?

Pharisees:………

It’s not that Jesus is opposed to laws or rules. Jesus gave us the Beatitudes, the Great Commandment. He instituted the Eucharist within a specific ritual and situation. Jesus, the God of the Universe, is in the business of creating order out of chaos. But, and it’s a big but, He is not in the business of rules for their own sake. 

Laws, within God’s perspective, are the things which allow us to become our most free and authentic selves. Bishop Robert Barron of the Los Angeles Diocese likes to use a baseball analogy. You can’t freely and fully play the game of baseball if you don’t know the rules of the game. A 6 yr old playing tee ball knows the basics, but there is much about the game they cannot do or accomplish because they are not using the full rule book. Professionals who have studied the game, practice it daily, discuss the nuances and intricacies, these are the ones who play it with full freedom and enjoyment. 

The laws of baseball, and the laws inspired by God’s plan for the world, are there to be in service of us, not the other way around. What had happened in Israel was that the rules were becoming of greater importance than the encounter with God they were intended to create. Instead of bringing greater unity to the community, they had become tools of division, of inequality and judgment. Look at the Pharisees’ question. “Is it lawful…” the subtext here are things like, “Who is excluded?” “Who should be punished?” “How can it be more difficult for x, y, or z persons to have access to the synagogue and temple?”

This isn’t why Jesus came. Jesus did not come to earth to save a few. He came to save all. He didn’t come to make it harder to enter heaven, He came to throw open the gates for those who would come pass through them. This isn’t to say Jesus came to abolish all laws, He tells us specifically this isn’t the intent either. Rather, He is the fulfillment of the law, returning it to its proper place in service of our relationship with God, not in place of it.

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I remember as a child thinking to myself whenever I heard this reading, “Someday, I’ll be just like my mom and dad and be able to make my own decisions. They won’t be able to tell me what to do.” This most often occurred, unsurprisingly, when I felt that their discipline or guidance was unwarranted. Of course, as an adult, I see things differently. 

While I am able to make my own decisions, I now value the opinion and life experiences of my parents. As a parent in my own right, I see now the why behind some of the decisions my parents made which, as a child, I could not comprehend. I am still a disciple, still learning from my parents’ wisdom. But I am now also the teacher, having completed my training. 

As disciples in faith, we may be misled into thinking that some among us are, as Jesus puts it, “fully trained.” Maybe it’s the person who always leads Bible Study. Perhaps it’s that lady who serves as sacristan, the one you always see bustling around before and after Mass who seems to know everyone and where everything goes. It could be the choir leader, or the PSR coordinator, even your priest, or “insert the person you’re thinking of here.” 

While they may be confident in their faith, they are not fully trained in it. They may have led RCIA candidates through the process of initiation for 25 years, they are still not fully trained. Even your priest, with all of his experience, discernment, study and education – even he is not fully trained in the way that Jesus is speaking about.

Jesus is training us in the way of selfless love. The type of love that is endless, sacrificial, life giving and eternal. When we look at the saints, we see some of those who have been nearly fully trained – they have become so like Jesus. Not equal to, certainly not surpassing, but enough that they have become both disciples and teachers. They have broken down the barriers of their hearts and allowed Jesus to shape and mold them into vessels of love. They pour out what He has given them, brightly showing us the path Jesus wishes to lead us on.

Any saint will tell you that their eyes are full of beams to be removed. The closer they have come to God the more they have realized their own flaws and shortcomings. Bishop Robert Barron uses the image of a windshield to great effect. When you are driving at night, your windshield looks great – no spots. But as soon as a light shines in, the smudges, nicks and dirt become glaringly obvious. 

We are all seeking training in the ways of Jesus. Even the saints will tell you they are still works in progress. As we commence into a new school year, perhaps this is a moment for you to consider how you can continue to progress in your training. Is there a new Bible Study starting up? Perhaps the RCIA group is looking for new members (or if you feel like you are lacking in understanding of our faith, simply attending even if you have already received your sacraments is a fantastic way to learn about the tenets and doctrines of what we believe). Maybe it’s time to consider catechist training. Or perhaps you are ready to commit to a more dedicated prayer schedule and could fill an adoration time slot. Ask God to show you how He wishes to train you next.

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How fickle human beings are! I know I have seen this behavior in my own actions, and I’m sure you have experienced it in your own as well. One moment everything is roses and the next we feel the world is against us. There is a certain appeal to this pendulum swing. Back and forth we go, never satisfied with one side or the other.

In today’s Gospel, the crowd was first amazed, finding Jesus’ words to be full of truth and graciousness. But, oh human suspicions and doubt. “Is this not the son of Joseph?” How could someone we know be so amazing? Jesus responds, challenging them to consider what they know and to broaden their perspective. They choose the narrow way, seeing only what they could with their eyes. 

We have found similar themes in our Sunday readings these past weeks from John 6, The Bread of Life Discourse. Jesus is pushing his followers into a new spiritual space. They are hesitant, resistant even. Who is this man, who tells us we must eat his flesh and drink his blood? Who is this man, who claims to be the fulfillment of Scripture?

Even today, Jesus tells us clearly these same teachings. How do we choose to respond to the mystery before us? Do we accept that the Eucharist is Jesus’ true Body and Blood? Do we firmly believe that He is the Son of God, our Savior and our brother? 

God, in His goodness and generosity, knows well the fickle heart of humanity. This is why He never stops seeking us. His patience will outlast the most indecisive, the most changing of hearts. 

If you feel you are in a place of spiritual doubt, do not distress. We grow in our faith as we wrestle to understand it more fully. Talk to your pastor, a spiritual director or solid friend. Look to the Catechism and writings of the saints. The saints are especially good company for someone having a difficult time with a mystery of the faith. They have walked our journey and many had similar doubts which they grew through during the course of their life. 

And pray. Take your doubts to the Holy Spirit. Do not be like the crowd that struck out in fury and tried to toss Jesus out. Keep your wonder and amazement and admit you still do not understand. He will guide your steps as you grow in wisdom and understanding.

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Even in the time of Jesus there was tension between what was “fair” and what was “just”. Usually, today or way back when, a situation is considered “fair” when things are perceived as equal – by you. Everyone has the same number of cookies. Each player gets the same number of turns in the game. In these two examples, the perception of fairness would most likely be shared by all the individuals. They are just as well – each person received what was due to them. 

Justice, what is due to you in order to make right or continue in right relationship, and fairness, being in accordance to the rules and equity, are often used interchangeably. However, as you can see, while they are related terms they do not mean the same things. Our Gospel parable today illustrates how God deals with justice and fairness. 

Jesus tells the parable of the landowner who goes out to hire workers at various times of the day. The landowner tells each worker that he will be paid “what is just.” At the end of the day, the workers who worked the least received a full wage. This continues to those who worked the full day. Here’s where knowing the definitions would have been helpful. From their perspective, it was not “fair” that they received the same amount. The work to pay ratio was not equal for all parties. 

But the landowner aka God, did not promise what was fair. He promised what was just. God desires for us to be in right relationship with Him. Whether this relationship happens in the early days of our childhood, or in the final moments of our life. God’s graces are not better for those who followed His path longer. He does not love them more or less. What’s more, God will not stop seeking after us. Like the landowner, God reaches out for us, continually offering us the means to be in right relationship with Him. 

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Mary stayed. There are some lines in Scripture that speak so much louder than their few words. When we read today’s Gospel slowly, we see it was a busy morning for Mary Magdalene. 

First, she rises, before dawn, and goes to the tomb. Upon seeing the stone rolled away, she returns (can’t you see her flying down the path, disregarding decorum as she sprints to the apostles?) to the disciples to tell them. She then turns around and runs back with some of them who wish to see for themselves. 

After seeing the empty tomb, the disciples must have returned, confused and feeling lost. What could have happened? Why? Mary, exhausted at this point, stays. She weeps for the one she has lost, twice now it would seem. 

In her sorrow, Mary doesn’t turn inward, as many of us are tempted to do when we are hurting. The disciples were hurting and in their sorrow, they walked away. Even if it was only to the outside of the garden, they still left the place of pain. Mary chose a different path. Though she was full of grief and was openly weeping, the Gospel also shows us that she wasn’t completely consumed with sorrow. She still had hope that something was not yet finished. 

How do we know Mary maintained her hope in the midst of this terrible moment? The next verse tells us that she “bent over into the tomb.” She looked again! This small action is what sets in motion John’s Resurrection story. Mary sees the angels, who engage her in conversation and turn her attention to the resurrected Jesus, standing before her. 

Even in the midst of her sorrow, Mary found the hope God placed in her, the hope He places in all of us. From that hope, she drew enough courage to look into the tomb. 

All of us will encounter suffering. Many of us are suffering at this present moment. Life is a challenge and things do not often go as planned. We go through times of pain, of sorrow, of grief, of anger, of disappointment. The disciples of Jesus felt these same things. They wished things were different, that it wasn’t so hard. 

The lesson Mary Magdalene taught them, and what she can teach all of us, is to not lose the hope we have been gifted by God. There is always a way forward, we have to trust that God’s plan is more marvelous than we could plan. We also have to trust that God’s timing may not be our timing. This is why we wait, as Mary did, in patient hope, for God to reveal Himself to us.

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There are so many places to launch a reflection from in today’s Gospel. Jesus’ sending of the disciples is full of vivid imagery and specific instructions on how, where and why the Gospel will be preached. As I prayed with this Gospel, I kept being struck by two little lines that seem to be tossed in the middle:

ˆWithout cost you have received; Without cost you are to give.”

Jesus had just detailed the things the disciples were to do during their time away. They were to preach the Gospel, cure diseases, cleanse the people and drive out demons. During Jesus’ day, these activities were all ones that a payment would have been expected. A preacher would extend a hat or shawl after a lesson, doctors have a fee, even religious leaders expected something in return for services rendered. 

Jesus, however, immediately and without conditions lays bare what sort of payment the disciples ought to expect. Nothing. What they have received from Him, what powers or knowledge they now possess, they received without any monetary cost. They are to give what they have in the same way that they received it. 

We, too, have received from Jesus. Jesus freely gives himself to us each Sunday at Mass in the Eucharist. This gift is given for our salvation and for our unity in the Mystical Body of Christ. The following is a beautiful passage from the document Lumen Gentium, one of the defining documents from the Second Vatican Council. It speaks about this incredible mystery that we participate in without charge:

“As all the members of the human body, though they are many, form one body, so also are the faithful in Christ. Also, in the building up of Christ’s Body various members and functions have their part to play. There is only one Spirit who, according to His own richness and the needs of the ministries, gives His different gifts for the welfare of the Church. What has a special place among these gifts is the grace of the apostles to whose authority the Spirit Himself subjected even those who were endowed with charisms. Giving the body unity through Himself and through His power and inner joining of the members, this same Spirit produces and urges love among the believers. From all this it follows that if one member endures anything, all the members co-endure it, and if one member is honored, all the members together rejoice.” (LG 7)

We are transformed each Mass more and more into the Body of Christ. This should produce within us a spirit of love and generosity for the other members of the Body. But even more so, it should open our eyes to all humanity, who Jesus is equally calling to the table. Jesus did not send His disciples to specific people, but to all people. He did not require they demand payment, create hoops to be jumped through, or hurdles to be surmounted before receiving what they themselves had freely received. 

The love and forgiveness you have been gifted by God are not yours to keep. They have been given to you so that you can freely give them away. Each Mass, you are given the grace of the Eucharist not to keep for yourself, but to pass on to those you meet in your daily life. 

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As many blog posts and reflections begin, I have a confession to make. I probably have too much yarn. Now I know, the “probably” I put in should probably be removed, but I’m not ready to both admit I have too much yarn and do something about it. I am a fiber artist with no sales, no following, or customers. I just love to crochet, knit, weave, quilt, cross stitch, I even have a spinning wheel I’m rehabbing. I bounce from project to project, excited to try new techniques and styles. I watch YouTube for tutorials and ideas. Yarn, and all the things I can create with it, brings me much joy.

 There is a problem with this hobby of mine that I’ve noticed over the years. What I haven’t shared yet is that I am a wife and mother of 6 children ages 10 and under. My days are full. Full of homeschooling, laundry, cooking, baking, sunscreen, skinned knees, and picnics. My hobby time is in the evenings. Most of the time, this is fine. I am ok with cutting off housework that didn’t get done in order to have time for yarn and crafts as the sun goes down. But there are some days I find myself resentful of my little people, of their messes and constant hunger, of the churn of the laundry and crush of chores unfinished. I wish for days of silence with my yarn. I feel like projects which are supposed to bring me joy are wearing me down with the slowness of their progress. “Why can’t they just leave me alone?” “Why can’t I have some space to knit (or whatever I’m currently fascinated by).”

Each day that I allow myself to travel along this path the worse it gets. I am trying to store treasure in earthly things. In focusing on the crafting I am not doing, I am missing the opportunities God is giving me in the present moment. It’s like trying to capture air escaping from a balloon or gathering water in a sieve. The more apparent treasure I pile in the unhappier I become instead of the opposite. I am believing that my happiness lies in my ability to create things when I am surrounded with the greatest works of creation I could participate in, my children. The things I make can bring me happiness, but that happiness should be in service of my relationships with my kids and how I am living out my vocation.

 Jesus says, “For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.” When I choose to be fully present to my family, even in its disorder and chaos, it is also full of love, beauty, joy, and God’s will for our family. These are the treasures that will last a lifetime – beyond a lifetime. Doing God’s will, loving those He has brought into our lives, these are just a taste of the treasures of heaven.

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The story of Bartimaeus is echoed in both Matthew and Luke’s Gospel. This image of Jesus healing a blind man (or in Matthew’s case two blind men) is of critical importance for the early disciples of Jesus. When John the Baptist sent his followers to Jesus to ask if he was the Messiah, Jesus asks them to consider what they have seen: “the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them” (Matthew 11:5). Jesus is referencing prophecies from the Book of Isaiah about the coming of the Messiah.

In today’s world, we are blessed with medicine and technology that would have seemed more than miraculous to a First Century person. People born with disabilities can be helped, children born deaf can be given the gift of hearing, a person who is blind can be taught to read and write. These are miraculous things, which we so often take for granted. 

The lesson I found myself gravitating to as I pondered this passage was that Bartimaeus, while being blind, had found a way to keep his eye on the prize. He did not waver in his attempts to reach Jesus. Even when the crowd tried to discourage him, to belittle him, he did not waver. The Gospel writer tells us this discouragement actually provided fuel for his fervor and he cried out all the louder. 

Bartimaeus knew how he could be healed. He knew Jesus was the one to give him that gift. He relentlessly pursued Jesus with all of his strength. He did not let his blindness stop him. He did not allow the crowd to cause him to pause, to doubt himself or what he knew to be true. What things we could accomplish if we could focus on them the way that Bartimaeus focused on Jesus. Now, stop and think of what God could accomplish in us if we did not pursue “things” but rather, pursued Him.

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