Midrash: Luke 18:35-43

Photo: Bob Guller via The Boston Globe

Luke 18: 35-43

As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. And hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” And he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he came near, he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me recover my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people when they saw it gave praise to God.

beer lahai roi

Cast to the fringe, she gave us this name.

Unseen, her body solves problems for power,

until it becomes the problem, and desolation becomes her erstwhile home.

He sits on the fringe, only feeling them pass.

Humanity, life, a shuffle, shoulder to shoulder, heel to heel, crushing, a following, a leading, a march.

Stumbling, grasping a shoulder, bright face, clouded eyes, he asks his question,

Why are you here?

Another blind man answers, sharing the name,

then casts him out to the fringe again, another desolate place.

Blindness catches and spreads in all this crowd, pushing and pulling,

searching bodies

seeking to be seen in a wilderness,

all the empty, desert places that give us the names we share,

white sand blindness, sun reflections, burning their raging retinas.

This blind man should be invisible, but faith is sure of images formed in darkness.

He says He is sure, yes, He is sure

faith is sight.

I see the one who sees me.

They walk, they march, they lift chins and eyes and fists and signs to be seen, an act of faith.

Walking beside Hagar, beside the blind man, multitudes,

filling streets.

Humanity, life, a shuffle, shoulder to shoulder, heel to heel, crushing, a following, a leading, a march.

More numerous than stars

filling the heavens

they dazzle, blink, and burn and flare with bright, outrageous flames.

They form and transform their image in faith, in the dark,

then burst into light, impress upon our retinas, raging.

What has once been seen will not be unseen,

it is our faith that heals our sight.