The Jesuit Guide To (Almost) Everything - James Martin [26]
You are at a funeral and wonder over the meaning of human life. Or you are tired and stressed from your life and wonder how much more you can take. You think: Is there anyone out there aware of me, who is looking out for me?
In each of these times—happy and sad, consoling and confusing, intimate and overwhelming—something special is happening, something more than just emotional “projection.” The excess of feeling seems disproportionate to the cause, or perhaps it’s hard to see any obvious cause. As well, there is a certain expansion of the soul, a loss of inhibition, and perhaps even an increase in one’s feelings of love and generosity. (Abraham Maslow, the social psychologist, spoke of these as “peak experiences.”) There may even be a change in one’s outlook on life, and a great sense of peace or joy.
During these times, I believe, you are feeling a manifestation of your innate attraction to God. You are feeling what St. Augustine described in the fourth century. “Lord, our hearts are restless,” he wrote, “until they rest in you.” The pull that draws you to God comes from God.
Now we need to talk about that attraction from a different angle, and using another word. We’re going to talk about something that Ignatius considered to be at the heart of the spiritual life. And it might surprise you.
We’re going to talk about desire.
Chapter Three
What Do You Want?
Desire and the Spiritual Life
TWO OF THE GOSPELS include the deceptively simple story of Jesus of Nazareth meeting a blind beggar along the road. In the Gospel of Mark, he is given a name: Bartimaeus, which in Hebrew means “son of Timaeus” (see Mark 10:46–52).
Bartimaeus is seated by the side of the road, begging for alms, when Jesus and his disciples pass by. The Gospels say that a “large crowd” was following Jesus, so there must have been a great commotion. You can easily picture the blind man wondering what is going on.
When Bartimaeus hears who is passing by, he shouts, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Here is some irony: as Mark tells it, most in the crowd have no idea who Jesus is. Jesus’ true identity as the Messiah is kept hidden from most people. (Theologians call this the “Messianic secret.”) The blind man, however, sees.
The crowd shushes Bartimaeus. But he is insistent and shouts out again. The blind man, who has probably been ignored for most of his life, wants Jesus to notice him. The unseen man wants to be seen.
Finally, Jesus hears him and invites him over. In a bit of storytelling that has the ring of truth, the man’s friends, who had previously been shushing him, now say, “Get up, he is calling you.” With a gesture of freedom, he throws off his cloak and approaches Jesus.
Jesus says to Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?”
“My teacher,” he says, “let me see again.”
“Receive your sight,” says Jesus in the Gospel of Luke. “Your faith has saved you.” Bartimaeus is healed and follows Jesus along the way.
When I first heard this story as a Jesuit novice, it baffled me. Why would Jesus ask Bartimaeus what he wanted? Jesus could see that the guy was blind. And Jesus already had several healings to his credit, so he knew not only that the sick wanted to be healed but that he could heal them.
So why does he ask that question? Gradually, an answer dawned on me: Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants, not so much for himself as for the blind man. Jesus was helping the man identify his desire, and to be clear about it.
Desire has a disreputable reputation in religious circles. When most people hear the term, they think of two things: sexual desire or material wants, both of which are often condemned by some religious leaders. The first is one of the greatest gifts from God to humanity; without it the human race would cease to exist. The second is part of our natural desire for a healthy life—for food, shelter, and clothing.
Desire may be difficult for some people