LAMENTATION

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mk 10:46-52

When we feel that a friend bears something heavy inside, our immediate and common question to him is “What’s bothering you?” Through this question, he is given the opportunity to express, if there is any, the load he carries within. But there are people whose suffering is such that they cannot speak at all anymore. We see people whose families were massacred, whose children were brutally murdered, whose houses were burnt to ashes, whose belongings were wiped away by flood, whose sufferings can really cause anyone lose his sanity. Down on the floor, with heads buried in their hands, weeping, they are prisoners of their own experience of a painful loss. Their suffering is such that they become numb and mute. Before this tremendous suffering, they feel helpless; anything they say seems to amount to nothing.

The first step to conquer this kind of suffering is to find words that will lead the one suffering out of his silence, words for his pain, fear, and loss. One of the great teachings of the Holy Bible is this: sufferings should be expressed through lamentations. Sufferings should not be endured in silence. Remaining in silence is remaining in hopelessness, due to the belief that change is impossible.

Because of this, it is not surprising that in the whole history of the People of God, there are many prayers of lamentation. The Holy Bible even has the Book of Lamentations. Lamentations are cries of the heart, shouts of suffering, groans of pain, screams for help. Though they come from painful experiences, lamentations express the sweet hope for changing the present, that God listens: “Take pity on me, O Lord, I have no strength…I am exhausted with my groanings; every night, my pillow is drenched with tears; in the morning, I bedew my bed with weeping. My eyes waste away with grief; I have grown old surrounded by my enemies” (Ps 6).

Lamentations are not only expressions of suffering; they also communicate the hope that changing the present is possible toward a brighter and better tomorrow. Thus, one who laments is not really hopeless; on the contrary, he refuses to be imprisoned in hopelessness that is why he expresses his desire for change. A prayer of lamentation bridges the gap between silent suffering and unwavering hope. The gospel today vividly paints that picture for us.

While He and His disciples, in the midst of a great number of pilgrims to the Holy City, were leaving Jericho for Jerusalem, a blind beggar heard that Jesus was passing by. The blind beggar – Bartimaeus by name – shouted his prayer of lamentation: “Son of David, have pity on me!” Those who were following Jesus did not like this one-man-uproar; thus, they ordered the blind beggar to keep quiet. Those who wanted Bartimaeus silent represent the belief that they who suffer should be left in the silence of their sufferings. This belief, sadly still prevalent today, teaches that the right religious response to suffering is silence. Be quiet; suffer in silence. Do not cry, do not shout. Complains are not allowed; lamentations are banned. Be quiet!

Unless permitted to communicate his suffering, unless allowed to express his lamentation, Bartimaeus – the blind beggar – would have remained living in his world of darkness. But he knew that if there was any good change to happen in him, he must tell Jesus about his loss. Thus, he shouted his lamentation not once but twice: “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” Jesus halted and ordered His disciples to minister to the blind beggar: “Bring him here,” Jesus said. By what seemed to be a sudden shift in wind direction, those who reprimanded Bartimaeus for shouting his lamentation swiftly went to his aid: “Take courage,” they said to him, “Stand up; He is calling you.” And when he was right in front of Jesus, Jesus asked him the question of all questions: “What do you want Me to do for you?” Bartimaeus found the word for his loss: “Lord, I want to see.” Jesus healed Bartimaeus and complimented him for his faith that saved him. Saved by faith, Bartimaeus, according to the gospel today, used his new sight in following Jesus along the way.

The healing in the gospel today was the fruit of a prayer of lamentation. That prayer expresses the tremendous suffering and faith of Bartimaeus; he trusted that God cares for him. For what use is it to shout if you believe that no one pays attention to you anyway? Ignoring the advice of those who wanted him quiet, Bartimaeus focused himself on Jesus. And Jesus blest the kind of faith that Bartimaeus had.

If we grew up believing that the only and right religious response to suffering is silent endurance, a prayer of lamentation is indeed subversive for us. But the absence of this kind of prayer is the absence of words of our sufferings, an absence of the kind of faith that desires for an honest encounter and dialogue with God. Even Jesus, when He finally hit the end of the road, had His prayers of lamentation. In the garden of Gethsemane, He found the word for his own suffering, loss, and fear: “Father,” said Jesus, “if it is possible, take this cup away from Me….” And in Calvary, while hanging on the cross and between life and death, He shouted: “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” Yet the Father did not forsake Him indeed, for on the third day, He gloriously raised Jesus from the dead. The prayer of lamentation pierces the heart of God.