While many readers are familiar with the following story from St. Luke’s Gospel, presenting it in its entirety serves my present purposes:
Now it came to pass, when he drew nigh to Jericho, that a certain blind man sat by the way side, begging. And when he heard the multitude passing by, he asked what this meant. And they told him, that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. And he cried out, saying: Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me. And they that went before, rebuked him, that he should hold his peace: but he cried out much more: Son of David, have mercy on me. And Jesus standing, commanded him to be brought unto him. And when he was come near, he asked him, saying: What wilt thou that I do to thee? But he said: Lord, that I may see. And Jesus said to him: Receive thy sight: thy faith hath made thee whole.
Sight is one of those wonderful gifts that we take for granted during the vast majority of our lives. We wake up and go about our daily business, usually without even a moment’s reflection upon all of the amazing faculties of body, mind, and soul that we possess and of which we make use to conduct our myriad affairs. Some of us pause for a moment before eating in order to give thanks to God for the blessing of food. How many of us give thanks for the blessing of existence, or sight, or hearing, or good health, etc? Do we not habitually conduct ourselves as if we were truly independent beings, beholden to no one and nothing for the very existence which we daily squander and misuse? Do we think about how much assistance, Divine and human, we actually need in order to do even one of the things which are, in themselves, more or less meaningless but we think are so very important?
Today is the feast day of St. Lucy, a young virgin martyred just after the turn of the fourth century. She is, interestingly enough, the patroness of the blind. Despite the fact that our bodily vision may function, perhaps even flawlessly, how is our inner vision? How well do we know ourselves — our strengths, our weaknesses, what we ought to cultivate, whether said cultivation is best accomplished by means of augmentation or diminution, how to mortify the disordered movements and desires of our hearts, etc? How accurate is our vision of reality and our own, humble place within it?
This is an immeasurably exciting time. If we are sensitive to such things, the ongoing, ever-intensifying change taking place right before our eyes is, at times, palpable. Whether or not we live to see it, the world will not be the same one year from now. Things are changing rapidly and the machine that has rolled forward unopposed for ages will soon collapse, largely from its own weight and complexity. Where will we be? This question has nothing to do with geography or status; it is a question whose essential focus pertains to the heart, the interior man.
What more and more are beginning to see with respect to the ingenious system of the Banksters and their minions is just the tip of an enormous, filthy iceberg. However, the slavery which those wanna-be demons have designed for us is only on the Radar of the Possible precisely because the vast majority of us are already voluntarily constrained by our own passions. We sacrifice our health, our reputations, our money, etc., in order to satisfy the disordered and insatiable appetites of our lower nature. Some love money, some love the pleasures of the flesh, some desire power over others. Why do we allow ourselves to become enslaved by our disordered passions? Well, all of us, in varying ways and to varying degrees, are blind men following blind passions. When disordered, our passions seek a particular good regardless of the impact upon our lives as a whole. Passions that are not kept in line want what they want — period. Picture a man eating himself to death, or imagine if our legs sought their own comfort despite the fact that, in so doing, the body as a whole died. That kind of disordered, insane behavior is what we all face when battling against our unruly passions. We mortify them or they mortify us — there can be no “live and let live” in this lifelong struggle. As the French proverb says: “It is better to be the hammer than the anvil.” To the sensual man, such an idea is anathema; to the man who is trying to or has already become the master of himself, he knows that mastery of the self is the only path to true freedom, to a peace and joy that the world and all within it cannot give.
Like the man in the Gospel, we need to obtain the gift of sight — and we need to cultivate and thank God for it. We need to wake up; the hour is late. Soon, those who thought they’d come to rule the world will be but a memory. Many others will also be leaving this plane of existence. Some kind of intense, massive, worldwide cleansing has been foretold in too many societies to ignore it. Frankly, even if none of them had said anything about it, just look around — the world we have known is crumbling. Many will die, but death need not be dreaded. Death is one thing; dying a bad death, at enmity with God, is another.
If we are blind, let us beg God for sight. If we see, but waste much of our time pursuing worldly goods or trying to satisfy insatiable passions, let us ask God to help us see better, to see aright, to see things as He does. At the end of the day, His view is the only one that matters and it IS reality. We are sane to whatever degree our minds and hearts and wills harmonize with His. Godspeed.