Unmanageable?

Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.

Yesterday we noted how it is a good antidote to pride to acknowledge the fact that we, as individuals, are in need of pity. This is very similar to what happens in 12-step programs where the first step is for an individual to admit a personal powerlessness over a particular problem or addiction and that because of this, his or her life has become unmanageable.

Note that many spiritual writers have suggested that working through the 12 steps is a worthwhile spiritual exercise for anyone, addict or not. In this sense, it would be good to apply the first of the 12 steps to each of the deadly sins.

Today I offer some simple notions about how we are all victims of pride (and in fact, might even want to consider pride to be our personal addiction):

·         Pride makes us blind to our own imperfections and limitations.

·         Pride causes us to dwell on ourselves and to ignore other peoples’ needs.

·         My pride hurts others, to be sure, but it also hurts me.

·         Sometimes I don’t contribute to the good of the community, family, parish or cohort of workers because I think they’re beneath me.

·         Because of my pride, I don’t seek to learn from others.

·         Because of my pride, I don’t take advice, so I fail to develop my gifts and talents.

·         My pride makes it impossible for me to be a “team player.”

·         Pride changes leadership into tyranny.

·         Pride makes friendships impossible or intolerable.

Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.

An antidote to pride

Saint Luke’s Gospel tells of a blind man who was sitting by the roadside begging, and who cried out,

“Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.” This is one of a number of encounters that Jesus has with the blind, and all of them are particularly valuable to us for our meditation and growth in spirit and in holiness.

This man was blind; he could not see. That is, he could not see the many things that we see naturally without giving a moment’s thought to them.

The blind man, however, did see in a deeper sense; He “saw” that a great and powerful man was approaching him; he” saw” the reality of Jesus’ lineage (Jesus, Son of David), and he “saw” his own need for merciful pity. The word he uses in Greek is eleison, the same word we use at Mass when we pray Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison. And we usually translate it as “have mercy,” but the current English translation of the Scriptures we are using at Mass has the blind man calling out not for mercy, but for pity.

That might rankle us and shake up our pride a bit. Do we think of ourselves as needing pity? The blind, the lame, the helpless, the lost, the paralyzed, the total loser---all of these need pity, a special brand of pity. They need the pity that is going to lead to action, to reparation, to restoration and to thorough healing.

But do we need pity? What might it cost our pride if we began to think of ourselves, not only as sinners in need of mercy, but certainly as the lost an prideful needing pity?

It might do us some good to humble ourselves in that way. And if we do, then, we will begin to see what we often overlook and what we tend to ignore or hide away.

Jesus has an answer to all of this: His answer: What do you want me to do for you?

Out of your humility, ask him. Now.