Shouldn’t we be weeping?

“We are living in unprecedented times,” is a well-known phrase spoken often to describe the divided state of the world today.

The meaning is that there are no historical points of reference that can help us move through these uncharted waters of broken relationships, alliances, promises.

And, no part of our lives have gone untouched: We are fractured personally, politically, economically, societally and religiously. With the most unprecedented aspect being the breadth and depth of these divisions.

“Paper Girl” is a recently released (Oct. 2025) book that describes, what Author Beth Macy, calls “a fractured America.” It is written from the experience of someone who grew up living in poverty in a small, middle-class town in Ohio.

Macy writes about her hometown having a healthy economy and thriving schools during her youth in the ’70s and ’80s. But after leaving for college and then pursuing a far-away career in journalism, she returned in 2020 to take care of her ailing mother and discovered that her hometown had become poorer and angrier over the years. Her book chronicles how she maneuvered through relationships with old friends and relatives with whom (after years of separation) she had cavern-sized ideological differences.

Although Macy’s stories are only about a few people in one small town in America, they are also a microcosm of the sad divisions being suffered throughout the country. This is especially true in her dealings with family and friends who have wide divides from her own political ideology.

Like never before, people all over this nation and world are frantically trying to maneuver through stressed and broken relationships caused by deeply-held political and religious beliefs. Scores of professional and self-help gurus are cropping up all over the internet, offering help to people frantic to stay connected to loved ones with whom they have fundamental ideological differences.

Macy wrote about some tactics she employed with family and friends attempting to stay close or, at least, on friendly terms. Although she was forced (out of a need for self-preservation) to excommunicate some, she mostly kept doing what she called “throwing things at the wall to see what would stick” in order to keep fading bonds from dying.

She put boundaries up; refusing to talk with certain people about certain topics (mostly political). She worked to hold her tongue when some divisive topic got through her boundaries.

She did a lot of what relationship professionals are suggesting. She kept the door open when conversations got heated despite all of her attempts to keep the peace; she tried to keep people with whom connections had frayed in mind; she was deliberate about staying vulnerable whenever unavoidable encounters happened with people who had distanced themselves from her.

In one of the many recent public interviews about her book, she slipped beyond giving advice to people who asked “How do I get through Thanksgiving with my family?” into complete honesty. “It’s hard work,” Macy admitted to a packed room of people. “It really tears at the heart. It hurts.” And then she posed a question that has evaded her throughout the years of trying to heal broken relationships, “How do we love beyond what we can’t understand or agree with?”

The pivotal word in the question is “love.” How do we continue to love each other?

Almost all of the advice available to help people through this pandemic of brokenness consists of things you can “do.” However, as we have asserted many times in this blog, it is more about “being” than doing.

Acting on some of the advice is valuable; such as building a closer relationship outside of the disagreement, mining common-ground memories and shared-beliefs, asking questions to understand a different viewpoint, and avoiding confrontational language. But many times the best that these measures can achieve are “white knuckle” relationships where there is a constant need to avoid the pitfalls and deal with an underlying uneasiness.

At these times when there seems to be no real answers to the very real problems we are facing, what becomes necessary is to envision and move into a “new reality.” How about getting really honest with ourselves about the immense losses we have suffered? How about getting in touch with the sadness this has caused us? How about grieving the loss? How about weeping?

Walter Brueggemann, author of “Prophetic Imagination,” wrote that grief is a necessary step in moving from denial to hope to healing after the destruction of certainties (like relationships) in our lives. An honest expression of the loss will pave the way.

By engaging our grief, we can break free of our past into a refreshing newness found in God – an authentic end of the old and the beginning of the new.

Jesus is our reference point. He refused to accommodate, what Brueggeman calls the “royal consciousness,” which blocks us from imagining a new reality and forbids the grieving that would usher it in. Jesus refused to abide by the world’s reality where new arrangements and configurations are mostly just rearrangements of the same old pieces.

He spoke out another reality that gives way to real change. 

Jesus wept.


Lord, help me, I pray, to open my heart. May I grieve for the pain in this world. When I see injustice, racism, oppression, and violence, may I mourn. Help me not to harden my heart, Lord, even and especially against those with whom I disagree, or those whose behavior I disparage. As I weep over the state of our world, may I also join you in your mission of peace. Amen.(Derived from the writing of Dr. Mark D. Roberts, a senior fellow for Fuller’s Max De Pree Center for Leadership.)

Image: “Jesus Weeps” by Linda Richardson

Holy beings created by a Holy God

We are holy as our Creator is holy.

A holy Creator can only create that which is holy.

Just as parents pass on their DNA to their children, a holy creator passes on his holy DNA to His creation.

Holiness is a condition of being and not doing. We aren’t holy because we act holy. We are holy because we are created holy.

The direction given by God in Leviticus 19:2 that the Israelites “shall be holy” is not a command to be carried out. It is a pronouncement about the truth of our being. This is who we are.

This is understood through the definition of holy in both the dictionary meaning and in the Biblical context. In each, the definition of holy does not include any suggestion that holy is a condition that can be achieved.

The dictionary definition of holy is “dedicated or consecrated to God” and the Hebrew word for holy is “qodesh,” which means “apartness, set-apartness, separateness, sacredness.”

There is no evidence that holiness is something we can gain through behavior. Also, nothing in the definition suggests that holiness, once conferred, is something that can be lost through behavior.

Even in 1 Peter 1:16 the urging to be holy “in all your conduct” is directly tied to the pronouncement that all God’s created humans (and all His creation) are created to be holy as He is holy. “You shall be holy, for I am holy.” Stating the truth about our created holy condition, Peter is desiring that our actions be in accord (line up) with our created holy condition.

If this wasn’t the case, what conduct is Peter suggesting would cause us to be holy; i.e. dedicated to God, set apart, and sacred?

No, Peter is telling his Gentile audience the “good news” that they are created holy and that it would be good for them to conduct themselves in accord with this truth.

It is through our holy God-created nature that we understand the meaning of sin. Since we are created holy, falling short of that causes pain and suffering – to ourselves and others. This is sin.

Our moral compasses are set to guide us in our holiness. Acting contrary to that nature often causes us great discomfort. It’s what we refer to as a guilty conscience. Our conscience has been identified by sociologists, psychologists, and behaviorists as “an internalized set of values and objectives that guide a person with regard to ethical behavior and decision-making.”

Just as Adam and Eve hid and lied as a result of the shame they felt from using – for the first time – their freewill in opposition to God’s will, we know when we are not acting in accord with our created holy nature. As a result, we perform all kinds of gyrations (sometimes going to great lengths) to hide our sin.

Sin causes us to hurt others (as well as ourselves) blame others, cheat, steal, and anesthetize our shame with all sorts of addictions and dangerous behavior.

Hearing the truth about our created holy nature should have been good news to Peter’s audience and it should be to us. We don’t need to strive to be holy, as has been taught for many years in the Church. We are already holy. We have the Holy Spirit living within us. “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God . . . ” 1 Corinthians 6:19

God’s gift of free will, given to His human creation, gives us the ability to decide to act in opposition with our created holy nature. This is clearly seen in the story of Adam and Eve. But when we veer into sin, our holy nature beckons – urged on by the Holy Spirit within us – a return to “be holy, as I your God am holy.”

However, it is clear that living without sin, which means acting in accord with our created holy nature, is an impossibility without Jesus’ Spirit.

From creation to the time when Jesus walked the earth, man had veered widely away from acting in accord to his created holy nature. According to Isaiah 9:2, Jesus came to “people who walked in darkness” and “dwelt in a land of deep darkness.”

They had lost their way.

Jesus came to live among men to reintroduce them to their Holy Creator, reveal God as their unconditional loving spiritual Father, and expose the “lost” human condition steeped in sin and the truth of man’s created holy nature. In all ways, Jesus was resetting man’s moral compass and pointing it to the Father. He was the example of living an earthly life in perfect accord with His holy nature.

Best of all, Jesus sent His Spirit as our helper

Hallelujah!

Bartimaeus II

He moved from the economy of the world to the economy of heaven.

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The story of Bartimaeus, more than any other in the Bible, draws clear distinction between the economy of the world and the economy of the Kingdom of God.

In the world’s economy, Bartimaeus was a poor, blind man subjugated to a life of begging in the streets. Every day the seeing public would walk passed the sightless Bartimaeus sitting in the waste of humans and animals and give him little more than a glance. The suggestion that Bartimaeus’ situation could be different, would be quickly dismissed with the thought, “What else could that poor blindman do?”

In the world economy, playing out in ancient Palestine, disabled and sick people were outcasts. This was because no illness, disease, sickness, or malady was curable. Given the permanency of their disability and the futility of their lives, they were left to their fate. Nothing good was expected for them or of them.

The blind were deeply shunned; i.e. the societal unwritten rules of behavior not only required that blind people be avoided but also extended the same to anyone who might make the mistake of interacting with them

Blindness was regarded as the lowest degradation that could be inflicted on a person. Hence, a popular form of retaliation against an enemy was to gouge out eyes.

Jews of Jesus’ day believed that bodily ailments and defects were the punishment for social or religious transgressions. The ancient Hebrews thought that the maimed, and especially the blind, possessed a debased character.

Before Jesus “stood still,” blind Bartimaeus was tied to the world like Gulliver in the satirical work of Jonathan Swift. The fictitious tiny Lilliputians in Gulliver’s Travels used ropes to restrain the giant, Gulliver, from which he could easily escape. The societal restrains that tied Bartimaeus, however, were impossible for him to escape. He was held down with no known possibility of release or escape.

This was Bartimaeus’ reality in the kingdom of the world but now having encountered the Kingdom of God he is freed. Jesus removes his restraint – his blindness – as effortlessly as Gulliver overcame the Lilliputians ropes, which were intended to keep him bound to the earth.

The prevailing attitude of the day among Jews living in the same world as Bartimaeus was that he would remain blind, poor and outcast for the rest of his life. Scripture, however, paints a different picture of Bartimaeus’ attitude. He had hope that his life could change for the better.

We are not told by the gospel writers if Bartimaeus sat every day praying for the promised Messiah, who would open the eyes of the blind (Isaiah 35:5) or if he had only just heard about Jesus as the word spread about His imminent appearance in the area where he sat begging.

Regardless, it was evident that Bartimaeus had hope: either long lived or recently raised. His impassioned cries to Jesus came out of a hope-inspired heart.

Bartimaeus’ use of “Son of David” in addressing the passing Jesus is evidence that he knew well the words of Isaiah: “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.”

Blind Bartimaeus heard the crowd referring to the passing celebrity as “Jesus of Nazareth” (Mark 10:47) but he cried out “Jesus, Son of David.”

Using these words, the blind man reveals his belief that this Jesus of Nazareth person is the promised Messiah: God’s son born of a virgin. (Isaiah 7:14)

Also, had Bartimaeus been told (or possibly heard firsthand) that this Jesus of Nazareth person had boldly proclaimed in the temple to be the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy? “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the suffering and afflicted. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted, to announce liberty to captives, and to open the eyes of the blind.” (Isaiah 61:1)

Isaiah’s prophecy, written hundreds of years prior, might have been the source (in fact, the only source) of Bartimaeus’ hope that he would see again. Nothing else in his world offered any probability that he would one day – some day – be healed.

Bartimaeus accepted Isaiah’s prophecy as a promise from God. Further more, his belief wasn’t just in the promise but also in the God who would fulfill that promise in his lifetime.

Is it any wonder then that Jesus credited Bartimaeus’ faith as the source of his healing? What a faith he had. Hoping, day in and day out, in a promise made and written hundreds of years before he was born. Year-after-year holding on to the promise that one day God would come in the form of a man (Immanuel) who would “open the eyes of the blind.” (Mark 10:52)

Immediately, effortlessly, Jesus did what was impossible in the economy of the world. With the Kingdom of God at hand, Bartimaeus “regained his sight.”

Bartimaeus’ story seems to follow along the same lines as so many well-known rags-to-riches, pauper-to-prince tales that we might have heard as children propped on our grandfather’s knee.

Transition is unexpected and dramatic. Just when it looks like the sad, destitute life-in-focus will never change, something remarkable happens. A lost treasure is found. An inheritance comes from a far removed rich relative. A played number wins the lottery.

For Bartimaeus, the miraculous restoration of his sight must have felt like finding lost treasure, receiving a substantial inheritance and winning the lottery all wrapped into one. And then, even more.

His transition was total. Not one semblance, not one shred of his past life survived. He who was blind now sees. He who was considered cursed by God was now blessed. He who begged could now give. He who sat in the animal dung now walked tall.

Still Bartimaeus’ story is not like the rest. In fact, it stand’s heads and shoulders above any other.

Worldly treasure does not get credit for this man’s transition. This rags-to-riches blind man experienced, what Bishop Barron (founder of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries) describes as a breaking in of “divine life.”

In only a few minutes using only a few words, Jesus reorders Bartimaeus’ entire life by shattering the “narrow confines of nature” so that he can truly live.

Divine grace broke into Bartimaeus’ life. He received from Jesus a generous, undeserved, spontaneous gift from God in the form of divine favor, love, and a share in the divine life.

“When the Holy Spirit breaks through (bringing grace) it’s like a ride on the wind,” said Bishop Barron.

Unbelievable but true. This all happened to Bartimaeus in an instant after his encounter with Jesus who says, “Go; your faith has made you well.”

Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it? Freedom from the narrow confines of nature. Sharing in the divine life of God. Riding the wind.

The only problem is that Bartimaeus didn’t die and go to heaven – just then, anyway. He continued to walk in the same dirt, breath the same air, and eat and poop just like every other human living on the earth.

So what exactly changed?

He moved from one economy to another. From the economy of the world to the economy of heaven.