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The Blind Man at Bethsaida (A Soliloquy)
I was blind and had grown accustomed to it.
I wasn’t even interested in being cured.
I basked in the attention that I got,
and inwardly delighted in my capacity to adapt.
I had settled into a comfortable lifestyle
which, in spite of my handicap, I didn’t want to be disturbed.
I felt distinctly uncomfortable when some of my friends
led me out of the village, took me by the hand,
brought me to Jesus, and begged Him to touch me.
Perhaps it was their crisis of faith,
reflecting the hesitancy of John the Baptist in prison
that impelled them to do so.
I was visibly embarrassed as Jesus spat on my eyes
and laid His hands on me,
and asked if I could see anything.
My inward annoyance made me recoil
as Jesus touched me,
reluctantly accepting the intrusion into my settled way of life.
As a result, my sight began to be restored, but only partially.
I could see people, but they looked like trees walking.
I could sense the amusement of those around hearing what I said.
Jesus, however, did not seem to mind.
My sense of vision partially restored wasn’t to be
a setback on the road to my recognition of Him.
He would not crush the bruised reed
nor put out flame of the smouldering wick. 1
It seemed ironic that in Bethsaida of all places,
people should bring someone to Jesus, seeking a cure.
They had a reputation for unbelief,
but Jesus, for His part, wasn’t interested in proving a point.
He touched me again, as I let go of my reluctance.
As he laid His hand on my eyes again,
I looked hard, was cured, and could now see everything clearly.2
Jesus saw some of those who brought me
walk away in disbelief, contrary to their expectations.
In response, Jesus gently advised me
not to even go into the village.
Sadly, I would not be able to share my joy with them.
John in prison was perturbed at the unacceptance that Jesus met.
He was puzzled that Jesus made no attempt
to brook the opposition that was building up.
A non-assertive Messiah didn’t exactly align with his perceptions.
His fears were allayed when his disciples were told by Jesus
to go and report to John the miracles that were taking place.
Isaiah’s prophecies were being fulfilled; the Saviour had indeed come.
His recognition, however, was not a foregone conclusion.
Only those prepared to see with the ‘eye of the heart’
would recognise Him.
It is a journey to the heart that we must all make.
We are not to be deterred by our own reluctance, like I was.
Nor are our faltering steps an obstacle.
For me, seeing people as trees walking was an improvement,
better than having no sight at all.
The temporary delight was not to be clung to,
but accepted and set aside, only in order to move on to clarity of vision.
John, for his part, had to renounce his preconceived expectations.
Jesus wouldn’t come to his rescue as he might have expected,
but rather let people know that for all his doubts,
John wasn’t a reed shaken by the wind,
but the greatest of the prophets.
While some may have begun to believe in Jesus
witnessing the miracle of my being cured,
others surely must have walked away unaffected.
Miracles of themselves do not authenticate the LORD’s presence,
since not all those who behold them begin to believe.
The real miracle occurs with the inner transformation
that takes place as one’s inner eye is opened.
Until then, we may see, but not perceive,
as the LORD comes into His own, but not all recognise Him. 3
There is one proviso, however.
When we think we see, we indeed continue to be blind. 4
References: 1. Isaiah 42:3 2. Mark 8:22-26 3. John 1:11 4. John 9:41
Christopher Mendonca is a feature columnist on themes of special liturgical seasons of the year.
“I thank you, God, for the wonder of my being and all the wonders of your creation" (Psalm 139)
During the season of Advent, we once again ponder the mystery of the Incarnation – the Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14). In taking on our humanity, God reminds us that the human body is not incidental but sacred, a temple of the Holy Spirit.
Embodied Spirituality
In a recent morning class, Fr Lancy Prabhu, SJ reflected on the spirituality of the body. He noted that religious traditions have sometimes drawn a false divide between the spiritual and the material, leading some to view the body as an obstacle to holiness. Yet, Scripture and the Incarnation reveal the opposite: man was created in the image and likeness of God, and God Himself took on flesh. These truths affirm the inherent dignity of the human body.
Our spirituality is embodied – expressed in gestures, actions, and physical presence. The body is where God dwells, and where the soul takes form. We perceive the world through our senses. Our bodies also carry memory, and often indicate something before our minds can articulate it. Animals, too, live in attunement to their bodies, moving through life with innate intelligence and instinctive wisdom. I am often amazed at how my adopted dog is attuned to how I feel, and is able to read subtle shifts in facial tension, before I am consciously aware of how I am feeling, and detect small changes in my respiration.
As bearers of God's image, we are called to care for the whole of our being – body and soul. Advent invites us to tend this temple with prudence, gentleness, and compassion. This preparation includes examining what we feed our bodies, minds, and hearts through what we read, watch, eat, listen to, tell ourselves, and converse about. Entertainment that glorifies violence or diminishes human dignity numbs the spirit, while art that explores the fragility of the human condition (such as 'Dogville' or 'Dancer in the Dark') provokes reflection and self-knowledge.
Advent is a season that gently trains the human heart to wait. In a world marked by restlessness, instant gratification, and pervasive uncertainty, Advent stands in quiet contrast. Its liturgical rhythm calls believers to slow down, to watch, and to cultivate hope that is not naïve optimism, but a virtue rooted in God's fidelity. During Eucharistic Adoration—before Christ, who is both the fulfilment of history and the promise of the world to come—this hope takes on a sacramental clarity. The theme of Hope in Advent invites Christians to gaze into the mystery of God who enters human vulnerability and transforms it from within.
Scripture presents Hope not as a vague desire, but as a confident expectation in God's saving action. The prophet Isaiah, whose voice is central in Advent liturgy, speaks to Israel in the midst of exile and disorientation: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light" (Isaiah 9:2). These words are proclaimed not after the people have been liberated, but during their suffering. Isaiah reveals a hope that does not deny darkness; rather, it sees what God is already accomplishing in the midst of it. This "great light" is fulfilled in Christ, and every Advent, the Church enters again into this ancient anticipation.
The Christmas season is a time of joy, reflection, and celebration. It's when families gather to share in the love and warmth of the season, despite the busyness and distractions that often come with it.
Among the many feast days in the Christmas octave, the Feast of the Holy Family — celebrated on the Sunday after Christmas — holds special significance. This day invites us to reflect on the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and how their example serves as a model for Christian families today.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, a renowned Jewish philosopher and theologian, beautifully describes the family's role in both spiritual and practical terms. He writes:
"The family is where we are blessed, and we become most like God Himself, bringing new life into the world for the sake of love. It is our first school, a miniature welfare state, a healthcare centre, a tutorial in responsibility. And yes, there is something spiritual about it. It is solitude redeemed."
In a world where families face numerous challenges, the example of the Holy Family offers a beacon of hope. It shows that family life isn't about perfection, but about sacrifice, responsibility, and unity — especially in difficult times.
The Enduring Bond of Marriage: A Commitment Beyond Time
At the heart of the family is the institution of marriage. Despite its challenges, marriage remains a sacred bond. During my recent visit home, I was struck by my elderly parents' wedding rings. The gold bands, once polished and perfect, now bear the marks of time and being imperfect — scratched, slightly dented, and reduced in size. Yet, these rings are more than just jewellery. They are symbols of love, sacrifice, imperfection, and enduring commitment, having withstood decades of joys and struggles.
Let's not talk about Climate Change anymore. The climate has already changed. Our role is to now work on Climate Action!" This impassioned appeal from one of the speakers, encapsuled the focus and intent of all the delegates participating in the recently held Congress of Jesuit Alumni. This Congress, held in Mumbai from November 14-16, was centred on the theme of 'Ecology and Sustainable Living'. The 250 participants came from Alumni Associations of schools and colleges run by the four Jesuit Provinces of Bombay, Goa, Gujarat and Pune. These Associations are part of a larger Federation, JAAI (Jesuit Alumni Associations of India), which has taken up Ecology as a key focus area.
Inspiring inputs
The opening session of the Congress took place at St Xavier's College square, Mumbai, on the evening of November 14. This iconic venue provided the ideal setting in which to reflect on the rich inheritance we have received and the need to conserve it faithfully. The Chief Guest, Archbishop John Rodrigues, outlined the Church's concern for ecology, and urged the participants to work for the greater glory of God by caring for our common home. The keynote address was given by Ms Shloka Nath, the CEO of India Climate Collaborative. Ms Nath reminded us that we make a unique contribution to climate action through our value-based initiatives. Emphasising the importance of every small act, she presented the image of a choir where every voice strengthens the song.
The second and third days, held at St Mary's ICSE School, Mazagaon, involved concrete discussions on four themes – Energy, Waste, Water and Trees. Fr Frazer Mascarenhas SJ and Fr Joel Noronha SJ presented the Jesuit Ecology Platform of the four provinces, and invited Alumni to contribute towards the implementation of the goals of this platform. This was followed by clear, data-driven presentations on the above mentioned areas, with concrete suggestions on how institutions could move towards sustainability. The Programme Committee had worked out a roadmap with the vision of a sustainable institution that is …
When India consolidated 29 colonial-era Labour Laws into four streamlined Codes on Nov. 21, Government ministers called it historic progress, and business leaders celebrated reduced red tape. Standing amid the confusion as factory managers rewrote contracts and gig workers puzzled over new benefits, I found myself asking a simpler question: whose future are we actually building here?
The promise sounds compelling. A textile manufacturer in Surat, in western Gujarat, no longer drowns in separate registrations for Wages, Safety, and Social Security. Fixed-term workers now receive protections once reserved for permanent employees.
Delivery riders navigating Bengaluru’s chaotic traffic finally gain access to health insurance and pension schemes, with platforms contributing up to two per cent of turnover towards social security. These changes acknowledge how India actually works today, where jobs shift faster than our grandparents could have imagined.
Yet the deeper I examine these reforms, the more uneasy I become about what we are trading away.
Companies can now lay off up to 300 workers without Government approval, tripling the previous threshold. Business groups call this ‘necessary flexibility’. Workers see the erosion of their only shield against arbitrary dismissal.
Forming a recognised union now requires 51 per cent worker support, raising the bar precisely when exhausted employees can least afford to organise. The Government frames this as preventing frivolous strikes. Workers experience it as silencing their voices, when speaking up matters most.
The mathematics troubling household budgets reveals another problem. Basic pay must now constitute at least half of total compensation, boosting Provident Fund contributions, but slashing monthly take-home income.
A software engineer in Hyderabad earning Rs 50,000 (US$556.65) monthly might lose Rs 5000 from her pay check, money that covered her daughter’s tutoring or helped ageing parents with medical bills.
A Wake-up Call (from a meditator’s journal):
I had carefully set my ‘notifications’ to alert me,
my alarm carefully set to the first Sunday in Advent.
I began what I thought would be a ‘good’ meditation,
but soon I found myself distracted by Christmas.
I looked at myself and wondered; the distraction bothered me;
I began to pay attention to it.
As one who had embarked on a daily contemplative practice,
what difference had it made?
All I could think of was
‘Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat,
time to put a penny in the poor man’s hat’;
a time to make the most of Christmas Bargains,
preparing to do a bit of ‘spring cleaning’, even as winter approaches,
planning for a celebration with family,
bringing out the crib set and decorations.
I found myself practising a plastic smile to perfection
with little care for the environment,
willing to splurge and to consume much more than I needed.
I was still impervious to the mountains of toxic waste that confront us,
willing to add to it, not only around me, but also within me.
I had ignored the call of the prophet to
‘climb the mountain of the LORD,
to be instructed in His ways and walk in His paths.’ 1
I was unwilling to recycle my swords into ploughshares
and convert my spears into pruning hooks.
I was still judgmental of others,
excusing my discrimination of them as being ‘a matter of taste’.
I heaved a sigh of relief at my new-found awareness,
determined ‘to do’ something about it.
A word of thanksgiving would seem appropriate;
how blessed I was because of this ‘awareness’. . .
Awareness is a good thing, but only if one lets it be
without trying to grasp it.
The subtle delight I took in being graced by the LORD
found me thanking God in a manner
uncannily resembling the prayer of the Pharisee,
rather than that of the publican in the parable,
who was content simply to recite over and over again
a plea for mercy that welled up from within him,
allowing the Spirit to give voice to his inarticulate groanings
in sighs and groans too deep for words.2
I asked myself what I needed ‘to do’
to prepare for the Lord’s coming.
(Two years later)
How wrong I was then.
I only needed to turn around, change direction
“and walk in the LIGHT of the LORD.”3
I slowly began to realise that Advent
is a time for a ‘recognition’ of the Lord’s presence
that precludes our own homecoming.
It is not as though the LORD is absent,
but we who have left home and gone for a walk.
What is worse, we have often chosen to walk in the dark,
illumining the path with lights to cope with our discomfort.
Advent is a time for putting off the lights
so that we can perceive the arrival of Dawn.
I now know that ‘staying awake’ means
not letting my inner room be broken into
by the subtle machinations of my illusory self.
I still find myself a beginner, prone to distraction.
But in the progressive letting go of thoughts, desires and self-analysis,
in Silence, Stillness and Simplicity,
I find myself less consumerist than before,
spending less on processed foods.
My eyes, once dimmed by over-exposure to screen time
now perceive Nature’s kaleidoscope with a sense of awe.
My plastic smile discarded,
the kindness I now show to all Creation and those around me
has let me move from loneliness to communion.
Through a daily contemplative practice, may we learn
that we are not called ‘to do’ something about our perceived shortcomings,
not to pay attention to them;
but rather, in a sense of awareness, allow them ‘to be’,
acknowledging them and allowing them to be transformed
in Silence, Stillness and Simplicity
by exposure to the LIGHT of the Word made flesh.
References: 1. Isaiah 2:3 2. Romans 8:27 3. Isaiah 2:5
Christopher Mendonca is a feature columnist on themes of special liturgical seasons of the year.
The Self-fulfilling prophecy of Isaiah (A Soliloquy)
As one familiar with the prophecy of Isaiah
regarding the coming of the LORD,
we continued to look forward to its fulfilment.
Often, at first reading, some passages appear to be
mere flights of fancy, with an in-built impossibility of being realised.
What does one make of a coming age
when the wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard lying down with a kid,
a calf and young lion feeding together,
an infant playing harmlessly over a cobra’s hole…
no hurt, no harm, but a land that is filled with
the knowledge of the LORD? 1
How could I believe that the Word of the Lord
would not return to Him empty
without succeeding in the task for which it was sent?2
In a moment of enlightenment, I saw with the eye of the heart
that the prophecies were meant to be fulfilled
within us in mystery as a prerequisite
to their beginning to unfold in history.
To be filled with a knowledge of the LORD
and return to the age of ‘original innocence’
portrayed in the verses that follow
means not judging by appearances,
not deciding a case on hearsay.
It is an invitation to inner silence.
Isaiah’s lips were purified not to give him eloquence,
but rather to let his prophecy be enveloped
by the Silence from which it must proceed.
Silence has the quality of holding opposites together
without the need of either to defend itself,
knowing that ‘what you resist persists’.
It is the Silence of the Suffering Servant
that precludes the need to defend himself.
It is Silence that does not shout or raise its voice
or make itself heard in the street,
that does not crush the bruised reed
or snuff out the smouldering wick.3
Self-consciousness which begins in early childhood
often causes us to write our life-script
that is played out in a continual need to defend itself.
It is easily hurt, manipulative, judgmental and intolerant,
exclusive and presumptuous.
Silence, on the other hand, is the breeding ground
for Un-self-consciousness
so characteristic of Creation before the Fall,
exposing our life-script for the illusion that it is.
The illusion is not to be paid attention to or fostered,
nor is it dispelled by violently trying to dismantle it.
It is not obliterated by attempting to re-write a ‘better script’
that tries to correct the flaws and whitewash the marks of the bruises
only to produce a revised and more acceptable version of itself.
The prophet Isaiah seems to be asking us instead
to allow the original script written deep within our hearts
to unfold within us, made in the LORD’s image and likeness.
The prophet Isaiah lets us know
that the promised restoration will come
only when we learn to reconcile the opposites within ourselves;
that evil is the shadow that we fall in love with
to dispel the loneliness we experience
as we turn away from the LIGHT.
We will not behold our shadow if we are in the LIGHT.
Away from the light, we behold not only our own shadow,
but that of others as well.
Relating to each other’s shadow,
we are intolerant of their differences,
annoyed by their idiosyncrasies and inwardly wounded.
The cure to the resulting loneliness lay
in my willingness to embrace solitude instead.
As I learned in silence to inwardly reconcile opposites,
I felt a growing sense of community,
the experience of communion, as I watched
the prophecy of Isaiah beginning to unfold within me.
In the measure we allow the LIGHT to illumine our inner darkness
allowing it to dawn, give us gladness and rejoice in its presence,4
will others gently turn around and come into the LIGHT,
away from their own shadow, but more importantly,
away from the shadow we may have cast on them.
Come! let us rejoice together in the LIGHT of the LORD. n
References:
1. Isaiah 11:6-10 2. Isaiah 55:11 3. Isaiah 42:2-3 4. Isaiah 9:2-3
Christopher Mendonca is a feature columnist on themes of special liturgical seasons of the year.
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