Mtr Mary Trainor

Lean on me when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on…*

Dear friend,

It was a split-second event. Time to act, or to live the rest of his life wondering about what might have been.

The Office Gospel today (Mark 10:46-52) begins on the outskirts of Jericho, where Jesus, his disciples, and a large crowd are leaving the city. By the side of the road, presumably among others, sits a man named Bartimaeus, blind and begging.

When he becomes aware of who is now passing by, he cries out, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!” It’s easy to hear the urgency in his voice, bold in its now-or-never insistence.

Others attempt to curb his behavior, but he not only persists--he grows more insistent in his appeal.

Jesus stops in his tracks. “Call him here,” he directs. Now standing before Jesus, Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, let me see again.” And it was so. Jesus said, “your faith has made you well.”

Bartimaeus’ split-second decision makes all the difference.

You just call on me brother,
When you need a hand...

A friend of mine shares a story of her own split-second moment. She was invited to attend a healing mass that involved laying on of hands. She was the youngest there, in her thirties, whereas most of the others--all women--were in their sixties and older.

This was at a time when such practices were not commonplace in the Episcopal Church. Nonetheless, she found herself going along, falling in with others on their way to the altar rail. 

Truthfully, she said, she felt a bit put off by the whole notion, maybe skeptical, maybe not wishing to look or be vulnerable. One thing was certain: She felt out of place. She had two beautiful children, a supportive husband. Life was good. Maybe these older women had need of healing, but not her.

Kneeling at the rail with the others, she crossed her arms over her chest, signaling for the priest to move on. 

And then she did one thing more. As the clergyman moved on to the next person, my friend was suddenly overcome by an urgent need for something. Healing? Or?  It wasn’t specific, but it was powerful and compelling. Something had to be done, and it had to be done immediately.

She reached out and gently grabbed the sleeve of the priest’s alb. Catching his eyes, she whispered one word, “Please…” It was a sentence never finished, yet oddly complete.

Bartimaeus and my friend share a rich experience. Offering their blindness to the will of God’s Holy Spirit, in the moment, quickly and undeterred, they grasped a measure of healing. And perhaps, even, a glimpse of eternity.

I just might have a problem that you’ll understand
We all need somebody to lean on...

Mtr. Mary

*Lean On Me by Bill Withers, who died this week. If you haven’t listened to it in awhile, here it is (you may skip the ad.)