Daily Devotional for November 24 – 30

We have just read in this holy Mass a text from St John’s Gospel: the scene of the miraculous cure of the man born blind. I imagine that all of us have once again been moved by the power and mercy of God, who cannot look indifferently upon human misfortune. But I should like to fix our attention on other considerations. Specifically, let us try to see that, when there is love of God, a Christian cannot be indifferent to the lot of other men. He must show respect in his dealings with all men. For he knows that when love shrinks, there arises the danger of thoughtlessly, mercilessly invading the conscience of others.

“And Jesus saw,” says the holy Gospel, “as he passed on his way, a man who had been blind from his birth.” Jesus is passing by. How often have I marvelled at this simple way of describing divine mercy! Jesus is headed somewhere, yet he is not too busy to spot human suffering. Consider, on the other hand, how different was the reaction of his disciples. They ask him: “Master, was this man guilty of sin, or was it his parents, that he should have been born blind?”

We cannot be surprised that many persons, even those who think themselves Christians, act in the same way. Their first impulse is to think badly of someone or something. They don’t need any proof ¡ they take it for granted. And they don’t keep it to themselves, they air their snap judgments to the winds.

Trying to be benevolent about it, we could call the disciples’ behaviour (judging the blind man) short-sighted. Then as now, for little has changed, there were others, the Pharisees, who consistently adopted this attitude. Remember how Jesus Christ denounced them? “When John came, he would neither eat nor drink, and they say of him that he is possessed. When the Son of Man came, he ate and drank with them, and of him they said, Here is a glutton; he loves wine; he is a friend of publicans and sinners.”

Jesus suffered a campaign of slurs on his name, defamation of his irreproachable conduct, biting and wounding criticism. It is not unusual for some people to accord the same treatment to those who wish to follow the Master while fully conscious of their natural shortcomings and personal mistakes which, given human weakness, are so common and even inevitable. But our experience of human limitations cannot lead us to condone sins and injustices against the good name of anyone, even though their authors try to cover their tracks by just “wondering” aloud. Jesus says that if the father of the family has been labelled Beelzebub, members of the household cannot expect to fare any better. But he also adds that “whoever calls his brother a fool shall be in danger of hell fire.”

Where does this unjust, carping attitude [judging others guilty]  come from? It almost seems as though some people are now wearing glasses that disfigure their vision. In principle, they reject the possibility of a virtuous life or, at least, the constant effort to do the right thing. Everything they take in is coloured by their own previous deformation. For them, even the most noble and unselfish actions are only hypocritical contortions designed to appear good. “When they clearly discover goodness,” writes St Gregory the Great, “they scrutinise it in the hope of finding hidden defects.”

Setting their prejudices up as criteria,  [some] they are quick to criticise anybody and slow to listen. Afterwards perhaps, out of “open-mindedness” or “fair play,” they extend to the accused the possibility of defending himself. Flying in the face of the most elementary justice and morality — for he who accuses must bear the burden of proof — they “grant” the innocent party the “privilege” of proving himself blameless.

I must confess that these thoughts are not borrowed from textbooks on law or moral theology. They are based on the experience of many people who have borne these blows. Time and again, over a number of years, they, like many others, have served as a bull’s-eye for the target-practice of those who specialise in gossip, defamation and calumny. The grace of God and a nature little given to recrimination have spared them from the slightest trace of bitterness. “To me it is a very small thing to be judged by you,” they could say with St Paul. Using a more common expression, they could have added that the whole thing was just a storm in a tea-cup. And that’s the truth.

Nonetheless, I can’t deny that I am saddened by those who unjustly attack the integrity of others, for the slanderer destroys himself. And I suffer, too, for all those who, in the face of arbitrary and outrageous accusations, do not know where to turn. They are frightened. They do not believe it is possible, they wonder if the whole thing is not a nightmare.

Several days ago we read in the epistle of the holy Mass the story of Susanna, that chaste woman so falsely accused of wrongdoing by two lustful old men. “Susanna groaned deeply; There is no escape for me, she said, either way. It is death if I consent, and if I refuse I shall be at your mercy.” How often does the trickery of those moved by envy and intrigue force many noble Christians into the same corner? They are offered only one choice: offend God or ruin their reputation. The only acceptable and upright solution is, at the same time, highly painful. Yet they must decide: “Let me rather fall into your power through no act of mine, than commit sin in the Lord’s sight.”

Let us return to the scene of the curing of the blind man. Jesus Christ answered his disciples by pointing out that the blind man’s misfortune is not the result of sin, but an occasion to manifest God’s power. And with marvellous simplicity, he decides to give the blind man his sight.

Thereupon begins that poor man’s happiness, but also his anguish. People simply will not leave him alone. First it is his “neighbours and those who had been accustomed to see him begging.” The Gospel doesn’t say that they even bothered to rejoice; they couldn’t bring themselves to believe it, in spite of the fact that the once blind man claimed that he was the man who before couldn’t see and now does. Rather than let him enjoy in peace his new-found fortune, they drag him to the Pharisees, who again inquire how this could have come about. And once again he replies: “He put clay on my eyes; and then I washed, and now I can see.”

And the Pharisees seek to show that what has happened — a great favour and miracle — didn’t happen. Some of them turn to petty, hypocritical, illogical arguments — this man has cured on the Sabbath and, since working on the Sabbath is unlawful, they deny the wonder. Others start taking what today we would call a poll. They first approach the parents of the blind man: “Is this your son, who, you say, was born blind? How then does he now see?” Fearing the authorities, his parents give an answer that is technically correct: “We can tell you that this is our son, and that he was blind when he was born. We cannot tell how he is able to see now. We have no means of knowing who opened his eyes for him. Ask the man himself; he is of age. Let him tell you his own story.”

Those taking the poll cannot believe, because they have chosen not to believe. “So once more they summoned the man who had been blind and said to him… This man — Jesus Christ — to our knowledge, is a sinner.”

In a few words St John’s account illustrates in a typical way an unscrupulous assault upon a basic natural right of all men, that of being treated with respect.