A Commentary and Reflection on the Readings for the 30th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Year B. The Liturgical Sense of the Scriptures Podcast, by Catholic Author and Theologian David L. Gray. READINGS: Jeremiah 31-7-9, Hebrews 5:1-6, and Mark 10:46-52.
The Liturgy of the Catholic Mass Restores Exiles and Heals the Blind
The question, “What type of God do we serve?” is often employed as a homiletic rhetorical tool to showcase the boundless nature of God, illuminating His deeds that surpass our understanding or anything that has ever been attributed to pagan deities or human capabilities. This inquiry into God’s magnanimity serves as a cornerstone for describing the divine attributes of God—His boundless love, compassion, justice, righteousness, omnipotence, sovereignty, faithfulness, and immutable nature.
Today’s First Reading for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time—Year B from Jeremiah 31:7-9 is part of a section in the Book of Jeremiah known as the ‘Book of Consolation,’ where Jeremiah transitions from prophesying woe and doom, judgment and destruction, to preaching themes of hope and restoration. So, the question shifts in the Thirtieth to Thirty-Third chapters of Jeremiah from ‘Why do we serve a God that is this harsh with us?’ to ‘Why type of God do we serve that is this merciful with us?’ These passages reveal a profound narrative of God’s boundless mercy and unwavering love. Despite their failings, God’s willingness to restore and renew His people is a powerful testimony to His infinite compassion and grace.
By boundless mercy, we mean that God’s mercy transcends all limits—His mercy even surpasses human constructs of justice. When God declares, “Behold, I will bring them back from the land of the north; I will gather them from the ends of the world, with the blind and the lame in their midst,” He refers not only to the historical Babylonian exile but also to a broader spiritual exile. Those who live estranged from God through the works of the flesh, which are sin, are invited back into His loving embrace through the Blood of Christ Jesus shed on the Cross. In this context of how Jeremiah’s prophecy was fulfilled Christ, the Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians (2:12-22), provides a beautiful lens through which to interpret Jeremiah’s prophecy: “At that time, you were without Christ, alienated from the community of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus, you who once were far off have become near by the Blood of Christ.”
Observe how, in Jeremiah, God promises a radical restoration of His people, one that includes even the blind and the lame. What type of God do we serve that these historically marginalized and considered cursed individuals will now be restored as equal members of the community? Indeed, this prophecy of Jeremiah was transformative – heralding a new inclusivity that we can only comprehend through Christ’s promise to reconcile the alienated through His Blood and in His Body. Although, according to today’s Second Reading from Hebrews 5:1-6, every high priest should have been discerning enough to “deal patiently with the ignorant and erring, for he himself is beset by weakness,” it was only our perfect High priest, Jesus of Nazareth, who deals with us according to His complete knowledge of our heart.
Each day, Bartimaeus sat outside the gates of Jericho, his heart heavy with the weight of his blindness and his soul yearning for the mercy of passersby who might offer him a morsel of bread or a sip of water. Accustomed to receiving the barest of necessities from those who pitied him, Bartimaeus’ hopes were modest, and his dreams were confined by the darkness that enveloped his world.
Then, according to today’s Gospel Reading from Mark 10:46-52, the air was filled with a sense of divine possibility on a day unlike any other. Word spread that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by, and Bartimaeus, sensing the profound opportunity, cried out with a voice that echoed the depths of his despair and the heights of his hope. “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me!” he pleaded, undeterred by the rebukes of the crowd that sought to silence him.
In that moment of profound faith, Bartimaeus cast aside his cloak—the sole possession that shielded him from the elements and symbolized his beggarly existence. He sprang to his feet, his heart racing with anticipation as he approached the one whom he knew could truly heal him. When Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus replied with a simplicity and earnestness that cut through the noise of the world: “Master, I want to see.”
And with those words, a miracle unfolded. Bartimaeus’ sight was restored, not just physically, but spiritually. No longer an outcast resigned to the margins; he chose not to return to the city that had known him only as a beggar. Instead, he followed the light and love of Jesus, the source of his newfound wholeness and hope.
In the liturgy of the Catholic Mass, we are all exiles. We are all far off from God, who condescends to encounter us in the priest, the word, and the blessed sacrament. With Christ so near to you, what do you ask for? What do we ask for in our Universal Prayers? Even without our utterance, God, in His boundless generosity, bestows upon us the one gift we neither deserve nor can procure by any human effort—He gives us Himself. In this profound self-giving, we receive liberation from sin, the end of spiritual blindness, and a new spiritual vision that transcends the physical. How often, then, do we find ourselves, like Bartimaeus, restored yet faced with a choice? Do we follow the Light of the World, or do we retreat back into the familiar shadows of our own making?
This is just one way the readings at Mass this Sunday connect to the liturgy and how the liturgy is forming us on how to live our lives in the world. Be in the world what you have received through the liturgy.
