23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Isaiah 35:4–7a
Psalm 146:7, 8–9, 9–10
James 2:1–5
Mark 7:31–37
We often wonder whether anyone is aware of our plight. Does anyone understand just what I am going through? Is anybody listening? Does anyone really care? We are afraid that we will always feel what we are feeling in a time of pain. We believe that we are alone.
The Prophet Isaiah speaks to a people whose world is ready to collapse. The Word of the Lord he proclaims is a word of hope: “Say to those whose hearts are frightened: Be strong, fear not! Here is your God, he comes with vindication; with divine recompense he comes to save you.”
Even more, the prophet addresses the nature of the fears, expressing what will happen when the presence of the Lord is manifested: “Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; then will the lame leap like a stag, then the tongue of the mute will sing. Streams will burst forth in the desert, and rivers in the steppe. The burning sands will become pools, and the thirsty ground, springs of water.”
We do tend to expect others to see, hear and grasp what we try to share with them about our struggles. Our capacity to express what is in our hearts often fails us when we try to share. Others who should understand cannot or will not. The promise of the prophet is that God Himself will make things clear and the joy that eludes us now will come. Creation itself will share in our delight in what God accomplishes for us.
I remember as a child having difficulties that seemed as big as the world. Mom’s gentle words after listening to me express my grief were simple: “It will be all right.” She indicated that what had happened would not seem so bad in the future. At that moment, her words did not seem to help; the pain remained. But in retrospect, it was exactly what I needed to hear. The fact that someone was with me, aware of my hurt was enough to keep me going. The fruit of that support, and even of the grief being experienced, is compassion. Now, as I try to listen to others, I do understand, and it is evident to those who speak to me, even without words.
The Gospel gives another perspective on God’s power to heal the wounds that interfere with communication. Jesus lived among human beings, and He always spoke and acted in a “down-to-earth” manner. He spat, He touched, He groaned out loud, and the effect of His thorough engagement in these very earthly ways of reacting served the purpose of healing.
The Incarnation proves God’s desire to be with us in our plight. At times, the most gratifying way of responding to some difficulty that we must face is to acknowledge how much it disturbs us by some spontaneous expression that uses our whole humanity. It is OK to groan and cry out in pain, by doing something that draws attention to our plight. God hears our cry. He comforts us in concrete ways.