As Jesus passed by, two blind men followed him, crying out,
“Son of David, have pity on us!”
Blind men were the first to call Jesus by the royal title Son of David. Their eyes were closed to the things of the world but their minds and hearts were open. They were, in a sense, strangers to the world, which Saint John the Evangelist writes is nothing but, "the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (see First John 2:16). While it is certainly not the case that physical blindness also necessarily makes one spiritual it must have certainly provided fertile inner space in these two men in which they were able to recognize what many people who could see did not recognize.
Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains (see John 9:41).
The blind men "were they not healed by the way-side and in passing as they had thought to be" but rather only when Jesus "entered into the house" and "they come unto Him" (Saint Jerome). It wasn't just a single confession of faith but a movement of faith which they demonstrated and to which Jesus responded. They entered into the house of Peter, just as we enter into his Church, and it was there that they experienced the saving touch of Jesus.
“Yes, Lord,” they said to him.
Then he touched their eyes and said,
“Let it be done for you according to your faith.”
And their eyes were opened.
Jesus was fulfilling the promises made in Isaiah, indeed going above and beyond promises that may well have been primarily metaphorical and giving them literal and physical fulfillment.
On that day the deaf shall hear
the words of a book;
And out of gloom and darkness,
the eyes of the blind shall see.
The world, and often we ourselves together with it, are so blind that we often cannot recognize healings and transformation at the spiritual level. Often the world applauds what is actually prideful self-deception as a substitute for what it cannot find by its own resources. May we realize the extent of our own blindness by our own dissatisfaction with those things of earth that we pursue, those worldly things that charm us most. When we seek what is spiritually real and substantial it will not leave us hungry or empty. By contrast, all facsimiles which we try to substitute for this will fail us. There is only one who can bear the weight of being our summum bonum, Jesus himself.
The lowly will ever find joy in the LORD,
and the poor rejoice in the Holy One of Israel.
What we need to see, and what we ought to desire to see, is the work of God's hands in our midst. This desire ought to relativize all other desires such that they are only desired insofar as they contribute to that end. This will not only make us more spiritual but more authentically human as well, for it is in our relationships with others that we are called to live this out, in which we are called to learn to see not just neighbor, but the God in whose image she is made, the Lord who dwells within her.
Jesus warned them sternly,
“See that no one knows about this.”
But they went out and spread word of him through all that land.
It may be that Jesus was leaving us an example to keep our good deeds a secret, an example of humility. He may well not have had any actual objection to their spreading the fame of his name. We too should be like them in our desire to tell everyone about Jesus. But perhaps we too need at least some caution. The story must not be centered around us and our experience. We can tell stories of healing more as entertainment than evangelization, and against this we must be cautious. It isn't just the joy that we are healed, nor yet the unlikely marvel that may even confound science, that is meant to be at the heart of our story. It is meant to be, as ever, centered on Jesus himself.
Wait for the LORD with courage;
be stouthearted, and wait for the LORD.
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