Burn the Ships

The following is a homily based on the story of the healing of the blind man Bartimaeus in Mark 10:46-52.

Remember the scriptural principle I’ve mentioned before: The bible is short on details, so pay close attention when it offers one. Our Gospel says that Bartimaeus threw aside his cloak. Now we who likely have more coats and clothes than we know what to do with can miss this – but it is very significant and I dare say  the key to the entire story.
 
For Bartimeaus, whose disability would have separated him from the community, his cloak was his only possession. It would have been the thing that he used to collect money while begging, his only protection from the harsh climate of the Judean desert, and his sole bedding during long, lonely nights. By throwing aside his cloak, he was throwing away his old life. 
 
That was a risky move. What happened if this Jesus couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything for him? Nonetheless, he went forward without any safety net. 
 
Put another way, Bartimeaus burned the ships. That’s one of my favorite phrases -– it’s time to burn the ships. If you don’t know where that comes from, the story goes like this: In 1517, the Spanish conquistador Cortes landed in Mexico with gold on his mind. As he and his crew stepped foot on foreign shores, he gave an order that filled his men with dread - he ordered them to burn their ships. Their way back - to safety, to what was known, to the security of their homes - was gone. Cortes’ message was clear: there was no turning back.
 
What Cortes did in burning the ships, what Bartimaus did in throwing aside his cloak, it’s time for us to do – it’s time we Catholics burn the ships.
 
I am convinced that we are within what history will judge to be a pivot point in the Catholic Church in the West. So many fall away from the faith that is it a rare parish indeed whose numbers hold steady, let alone grow. The culture has become not only indifferent to the faith but exalts values and beliefs that are contrary to the Gospel of Christ. And now we are smacked in the face with an ever-growing list of criminal, sinful, unfaithful clergy and find our confidence in those that we call shepherds to be deeply shaken.
 
If we take our faith seriously, if we take our Church seriously, there is a fear of what the future looks like, a fear that our Church is dying. But let’s not let that fear cause us to forget a fundamental truth: We who worship a crucified God find great hope in death, for from death comes Resurrection. 
 
Western Catholicism has become too comfortable and has lost its missionary zeal. For too long we’ve had safety nets: We could fall back on the culture that had similar morals, call ourselves Catholic because of our ethnic background, and just pray, pay and obey to punch our ticket to heaven. But no more, because we must now return to a Catholic faith that has no safety nets, that is uncertain and Spirit-led. The Holy Spirit is inviting us to light a match and burn our ships. And that is frightening; on an institutional level, and for us as individuals. 
 
I remember the pivotal moment in  my life that I had to burn the ships. It was my second year in seminary. And in those first few years I was still very doubtful about this whole priest thing. Entering the seminary, I was a newly practicing Catholic and fighting with great vigor against the uncertainty of a life in Christ. I kept looking back – back to my career as a scientist, back to relationships that were supportive of my more pagan days, to the success and prestige that I had already begun to accumulate at 30 years old. I kept that way of life as a backup plan, keeping my ships on the shore ready for escape at a moments notice, grasping my cloak and refusing to be parted from it. In other words, refusing to fully give myself to Christ.
 
But, with God’s grace, something shifted. I severed relationships and made concrete changes to my life that made going back impossible. And I can tell you – it was terrible! It wasn’t an easy journey. It wasn’t all sunshine and lollipops. There were things I had no idea how to navigate and, eleven years later, uncertainties that still have no clear solution. I chose an unsafe path - and it was the best, most life-giving and joy filled decision I’ve ever made. 
 
What will throwing aside our cloak look like for us? First, we need to ask ourselves difficult questions. Questions like is the way we educate our children in the faith having the desired affect and, if not, why are we continuing this same approach? Have we faithfully implemented the desires of Vatican II in making the transcendent beauty of our Mass an experience that draws our hearts and minds to God? Are the parish structures serving the mission of drawing people to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ?
 
Rather than depending upon the approach that we can best categorize as “this is the way we’ve always done it,” we must,  must give ourselves fully to the Lord; not holding anything back, not having a back-up plan or keeping a safety net. There ain’t no safety net for disciples.
 
But I hope you realize how uniquely positioned this parish is to do this, more so than many parishes in the Archdiocese of Chicago. Through your hard work, through the love and work of Fr. Chris, this community is well positioned for this new opportunity, to ask these question, to boldly imagine a future fruitfulness driven by the Holy Spirit. If together we are brave enough to throw aside our cloak, I am convinced that, like Bartimeaus, we will receive a new way of seeing, a way by which we can joyfully follow wherever the Lord leads.
 
Being Catholic should not be a safe endeavor, because our God is not a God of safety. He is a God of love, and love requires risk. But while Cortes burned the ships for the passing treasure of the gold, we seek after a far greater treasure – eternal union with love Himself.
 
Do you think Bartimeaus regretted throwing his cloak aside? Clearly not. We as individuals, and as a community, are soon going to have to make a decision – are we willing to throw our cloak aside? Are we willing to be a  community that follows the uncharted paths of the Holy Spirit, even if it requires setting aside comfortable ways of doing things? Friends, together, let’s be like Bartimaeus, let’s be willing to step into a new day and follow the Lord on the wild and winding path, the path of discipleship.