Sept. 8: 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Do not fear

Is 35:4-7a; Ps 146:6-7, 8-9, 9-10; Jas 2:1-5; Mk 7:31-37

There are several stories in the Gospels and in the Old Testament where physical blindness can be understood as a metaphor for some kind of spiritual blindness. This blindness is often viewed as a wholly negative thing, something that goes against being fully human and needs to be fixed.

But is this always the case? Could we possibly understand this blindness as part of a larger process that challenges us and, in the end, brings us closer to God? Perhaps we can think of this spiritual blindness as another desert. It is in the desert where many of our biblical heroes and heroines struggle, feel afraid, abandoned and tempted to give up on God. It is also in these spaces where our biblical heroes and heroines choose to trust in God and grow deeper in their relationship with God.

On Holy Saturday, we hold space to remember the day after Christ was crucified. The disciples followed Christ, believing he was the Messiah. Then, he was taken from them by means of one of the most horrific deaths imaginable. Just like any ordinary person who died, he was simply gone.

Everything changed for the disciples, who were now scared and unsure of what was coming next. Even though Jesus is shown to have prepared them for this, they seem to be experiencing a spiritual blindness.

Because of this, Holy Saturday is sometimes spoken of as a representation of the liminal times in our lives. These are the times in life when everything is about to change, but we do not yet know how. In this liminal space, we feel anxious, insecure and maybe even a little scared.

We also have no control in this space. It is a time when we want to act, but we know that we must merely wait and see what happens. Even though we have faced liminal moments before, it is hard to see and be patient when we are in that space once again. It is not a pleasant place to be.

Yet, it is on Holy Saturday, this liminal moment, that we invite new adult members into full communion with us. At first glance this might not make sense. Easter Sunday seems like a more fitting day for this, or any other day during the Easter season. It is a joyful season where we celebrate the resurrection — Christ’s triumph over sin and death.

There may be no better an introduction to the church than being baptized, confirmed and given the Eucharist on Easter Sunday. Yet, we choose Holy Saturday for this special celebration because we know how the story ends. We know that it does not end with Holy Saturday but that, if we only wait, Easter will come.

When we gather at the Easter Vigil, we show our incoming members what it means to be a Christian. We are meant to be a people of hope. We are not meant to let fear control us by running away from the liminal space, that time of blindness. We do not try to control it, but we allow it time to bring about the work that God is doing.

Jesus tells us time and again not to be afraid; that when we suffer, we are blessed. Because of this, we believe that God will bring about good from any situation. It does not change the pain or confusion we feel. But we know that it is not the last word. In short, we believe that Easter will always come.

So, we wait together in the dark, just as the disciples waited together after Christ died and everything seemed like it was falling apart. We light candles, burn incense and ring bells as we shout, “Hallelujah.” We remember all that God has done for us in the past.

Then we continue to baptize, as well as renew our own baptismal vows, and we all share in the Eucharist together. We teach our new sisters and brothers in Christ not to fear what they cannot see. We teach them that hope, joy and love — not fear — is our way of being in the world.