“We have seen incredible things today.”
So says the last line of today’s Gospel from Luke, immediately after Jesus cures the paralyzed man in front of a huge crowd.
Incredible. Miracle. Unbelievable.
How many times do we witness things that rise to the this level of wonder? Do we routinely see paralyzed men or women kick away their wheelchairs and go dancing down the street? Do we see the deaf hear? The blind see?
Do we see the dead arise?
We read about these things in Scripture. We often see them portrayed in movies and on television programs. But how often do we truly see a miracle?
I would argue that it happens more often than not, but that we are not always paying attention. Our focus is often too much on ourselves and not enough on those around us.
In this Advent Season, during which we are awaiting the miraculous birth of the Son of God, it is a good time to ponder our reactions to miracles we hear about.
No doubt, we respond first with skepticism. “Unless I am there to see it, I just don’t believe.”
We demand proof, like Thomas did during another Liturgical season.
We are quick to say “I knew it” if the miracle turns out to be fiction.
But there are times – rare, but significant times – when we witness or play a part in a true miracle. The kind of events that make headlines …
A single survivor of a plane crash.
A sudden disappearance of cancer.
A patient comes out of a coma.
These things happen … and when they do (and they pass the tests of verification) we typically respond with happiness. We are happy for the recipient of the miraculous gift. We are overjoyed for family members. And in a secret section of our own hearts and minds, we add another “miracle chip of hope” that we will hold onto, ready to be cashed, when we are in need of our own miracle.
Some say miracles happen every day. True. Just the fact that we were able to draw our first breath this morning is a miracle. Our daily lives are always in the hands of God who can take away that first breath at any time.
Others say miracles are a thing of the past. Something to be read about in scriptures and books about the saints.
Still others say miracles are not real. That there is always some sort of “sane” and scientific explanation for things that are, um, somewhat unexpected.
As for me … I’ve seen a few miracles in my life. And I suppose I am a walking miracle child … a survivor of a potentially deadly 2-story fall at the age of 3, when I landed head-first on pavement, cracking open my skull and requiring emergency care.
Yet still alive.
It was a miracle that day in 1967. And it’s still a miracle today.
As we inch our way along this second week of Advent, let’s be on the lookout for the miracles of life – the miracles of God – that we are given to see each day.
Let us pray that our faith is strengthened with each miracle we experience. But let us also pray that our faith remains strong, even when we see none.
Blessed are those who believe without seeing, eh?
