23 Pentecost Proper 25 Yr B Oct 28 2018

23 Pentecost Proper 25 Yr B Oct 28 2018 Audio

Mark 10:46-52

We take up with the gospel of Mark again in the shadow of Jerusalem, on the way to the cross. We've been on this road for a while now, partners with those in the story who are also on the way. Before the followers of Jesus were called Christians, they were, as we are, people of the way. This story of the blind Bartimaeus is the last story of Jesus’ ministry before the cross, the passion, and resurrection. I think this story of Bartimaeus is in stark contrast to the story that we heard last week, the story about James and John. James and John ask Jesus for power and status, Bartimaeus asks Jesus for healing. God lavishes love on them all, Jesus calls them as followers, and yet each of them must let go of something they’ve been holding on to live fully free, fully alive.

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asks Bartimaeus, it’s the same question that Jesus asked James and John only a moment ago in the story, and that we talked about last Sunday. But the gulf between the request that James and John make, and the request Bartimaeus makes is cavernous. James and John were somewhat confused remember, they ask Jesus for power, they think the kingdom is about a seating chart. But Bartimaeus, Bartimaeus asks to see. Nothing like the power and status, the place at the table that James and John were all about, and what’s more is that Bartimaeus wasn’t even officially a disciple.

Imagine Bartimaeus, sitting in the road, probably at the main gate of Jericho, day after day, all day, in the hot sun, begging. But Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is, he’s listened to the talk, he calls out to Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. Let me see.

Two things here that are so unlike the James and John story, or the story of the rich young man, which we also heard a couple weeks ago. First, the request, have mercy on me, heal me. Second, the ramifications of that healing, what it means to follow Jesus.

Have mercy on me, Bartimaeus asked, mercy. You know what mercy means? A heart for other peoples troubles. Bartimaeus was asking Jesus to have a heart for his troubles. That’s all, hear me, see me, and if you’ve got it in you, heal me. And that’s what Jesus did, Jesus heard him, Jesus saw him, and having a heart for his trouble, Jesus healed Bartimaeus.

So once Bartimaeus is healed, what does he do? Bartimaeus’ profession is begging. Once he is healed, his life is changed, he can’t go on begging anymore, so he follows Jesus. Just like the others, he gets up and follows. Bartimaeus exchanges a life of begging, a life of blindness, for this life of following Jesus. And you and I know where that’s going, straight to the cross.

No matter how much we think we have, no matter our wealth, our status, our power; no matter what we think we don’t have, our lack of health, our lack of wealth, our lack of support, we leave it all behind when we follow Jesus. We get so wrapped up in our own shortcomings, or we spend so much time valuing our worth by what others think is important, that we forget that we are God’s beloveds, and we forget to have mercy, a heart for other people’s troubles.

Jesus calls us to follow, Jesus calls us to surrender things that poison us, or things that keep us from seeing what is around us, Jesus calls us to be merciful, to have a heart for other people’s troubles.  Jesus' call to us, the call to be followers, is to open ourselves up, to surrender the stuff that insulates us from our neighbors, to let Love win. Being healed isn't easy for us. Last night, I had the privilege of hearing Anne Lamott talk about her new book, Almost Everything, Notes on hope, and all her wisdom really, Anne said, “when you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired, it’s time to surrender.” Being healed is like that; it’s finally recognizing your loveliness in Jesus’ eyes and finally letting yourself be loved, and finally letting go whatever it is you’re sick and tired of, because you can’t control it anyway.

But there is risk involved in being healed. There is risk involved in letting Jesus change you. Life will never, can never be the same. Out of what seems like death, letting go sometimes feels like death, comes resurrection. We cling so desperately to that which we believe is our identity, no matter how healthy or unhealthy; it's nearly impossible to give that up to an identity as beloved of God. Letting go of what we believe defines us to take on our true identity as God’s beloved, is hard. But unless and until we let die what is killing us, we can never be healed, we will never be transformed into the new person in Christ. The Good News is that when we make room for Love to interrupt our precisely organized patterns, we make room for Love to change our path; we make room to go home by a different way. And there will be new life in ways we can hardly begin to imagine.

Bartimaeus is called, and healed, and follows Jesus. But the journey to the cross is as difficult as it is exhilarating; following Jesus is not for the feint of heart. It was only a very short period of time between Bartimaeus being healed, being restored to the community, and Jesus’ passion, suffering, death and resurrection. But the good news is that we are all in this life together. The good news is that we are capable of mercy and love. The good news is seeing, seeing, the grace, the joy, the wonder, in all that life throws at us. Unlike Bartimaeus and the others, we know the end of the story. We know that resurrection happens. We know that life always wins over death. We know that we are part of resurrection. There is hope.

Following Jesus is not about having the right answers; it’s not about being perfect. Following Jesus is seeing healing right in front of us; following Jesus is having a heart for other people’s troubles. Following Jesus is being transformed, being changed; becoming the creation that God calls us to be. Following Jesus is loving our neighbor, our neighbors who don’t look like us or worship like us.

19 Pentecost Yr C Proper 21 Sept 25 2016

19 Pentecost Yr C Proper 21 Sept 25 2016 Audio

Luke just doesn't let up on us, at all, ever. One parable more difficult and confusing than the last. The kingdom of God is like... layers of meaning, what it seems like on first blush may not be what it really is about. There was a certain rich man, who feasted luxuriously every day, and at his gate lay a certain poor man named Lazarus, all Lazarus wanted was to eat the crumbs the rich man dropped. Well, remember one of the themes of Luke's gospel is wealth, so is this parable about wealth, and it's proper use?

Well, Lazarus died, and was carried by angels to Abraham's side, Abraham, the father of Israel. The rich man died, and was tormented in the place of the dead. This is clearly a judgement about the proper use of wealth, and the rich man gets it in the end, right? There's more to prove that, Lazarus is being comforted, and the rich man is in great pain, the crevasse between is unbridgeable. There is a chasm between good and bad, rich and poor, it is all clear and easy to understand. Well now, that would not be a parable, would it?

So the rich man does not want his five brothers to come to this place of agony, and he wants Lazarus to warn his brothers to repent. It must be about repentance. Is it about wealth, judgement, repentance? It is about all of these things, it is a parable after all.

But in the end, is it about resurrection? In the end, is it about how life is to be lived while living. Abraham said, "If they don't listen to Moses and the Prophets, then neither will they be persuaded if someone rises from the dead." In the end, is it really about living? It is not about the reward at the end, it is about the life that Jesus inaugurated on the cross and in the resurrection. It is about the whole new life and the whole new world that Jesus makes real for us, for God's creation. It is about the amazing and abundant love now, in this life, that causes us to be workers for justice, for peace, for healing, for compassion. And is it about Luke's counsel and concern regarding wealth.

It is about our riches, our wealth. My friend Lyn, who is a priest in the Diocese of Utah told me this story, it's a story about incarnation. It's a story about showing up with and for people. It's a story about the real presence of Jesus. It's a story about an embarrassment of riches, and it's a story of gratitude. Lyn says, one day she answered the phone at her church, and there was an unfamiliar voice at the other end. He said he needed some help. Now, in this business, when you get a phone call like that, you stop listening and wait for the ask. Sometimes you want to stop the speaker and just say, how much money do you need? Lyn listened, and was surprised that want the caller wanted was prayer. He had just seen a doctor, and was afraid of what the doctor might tell him, he had a young daughter, but no one else. He just wanted someone to pray with and for him. Lyn did, she prayed with him. He told her he would let her know how it all turned out.

Rich and poor don't always look like we think they should look like. We are rich. We are rich in our community. Any one of you comes right here, to this place, and asks for prayer. And we, your community, envelope you in love, in prayer, in support. We accompany you on your healing journey. You have family, you have friends, you are rich. After your diagnosis, or after your surgery, you have a list of people to call to tell about how it's going. A whole list. This man, who asked for Lyn to pray with him, had one phone call to make after the doctor gave him the news, one phone call, to Lyn. And the news he delivered was good. Lyn could celebrate with him.

This is what incarnation looks like. It looks like showing up with and for others. It is bearing God's love and God's hope and God's dream for the world in our very beings. It is bring healing into brokenness, and it is bringing love to bear when hate is all around.

It is seeing, really seeing, The rich man in our story never paid heed to Lazarus in life, never. Seeing, is a very big deal. And the rich man's eyes are blind to Lazarus. Before you can have compassion for people, you have to see them, look into their eyes, and see, acknowledge their presence, their needs, and gifts, and above all their status as a beloved and blessed child of God.

So I think this is Luke's point, Luke urges us to the abundant life that comes through Jesus' resurrection, the new life that Jesus affects. And that brings us to seeing, really seeing those around us as God's beloved children deserving our care, attention, and friendship. And Luke says to us give, give out of your richness, whatever that richness looks like.

Luke says to us that this reality that we celebrate each time we gather for a meal, each time we come to this table, each time we say together, Risen Lord, be known to us in the breaking of the bread, we, crumb by crumb, drop by drop, live into the new creation Jesus makes us into. We see, we experience, the fullness of life God intends and offers, and we embrace the people God has set in our path.  

Luke tells us in this parable that through the gift of incarnation, the gift of resurrection, God with us in the flesh, God with us in the spirit, we are made new creations, and the character and quality of our live's today matter. Not because we do good things to earn a reward, but because we are loved. Eternal life is not a distant reality, it starts now. It starts with with us. Give from your richness, from your abundance, and really see the people around us, Jesus, in our midst. And show up for yourself, show up for others, be the church you are meant to be.

4 Lent Yr A

“Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; all else be nought to me, save that thou art – thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.” I have been wondering mightily what it means to really see, what true vision really is. And as I wonder, I recall the words from the movie Avatar. You may remember them. As our characters, Jake Sully and Neytiri, journey together on the planet Pandora, Neytiri says to Jake Sully, “I see you.” Neytiri teaches Jake Sully the ways of her culture, her language, her natural world, she shows him the mystery of life on Pandora, he walks beside her learning the ways of the people there, and somewhere, sometime on that journey, Jake Sully says to Neytiri, “I see you.” I see you, what does it mean to see? For these characters it means so much more than what is absorbed through the open eyes. It means that the heart and the soul, the body and the mind are engaged in knowing, listening, being, and suffering. It is a journey of seeing, a journey of knowing. In this story, the scales do not fall from the eyes in one instant, as they did for Paul on the Damascus Road. In this story, it is the relationship that affects the seeing.

What does it mean to really see? “Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; all else be nought to me, save that thou art – thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.” “I see you,” the people of Pandora say to their beloved, this hymn sings of a similar seeing. Seeing, vision, takes all of our senses and our sensibilities, seeing engages our entire being, and seeing presumes relationship, it presumes walking together.

As I have pondered this question, I also think of Kathy Davis, who is blind. When Kathy wants to see something, she takes it in her hands, she touches it, and turns it, she puts her fingers in the holes, she feels the sharp edges, she asks about its color. What does it really mean to see?

In the story of seeing we have before us today, having one’s eyes open does not presume seeing. In this story there are many characters, there is the man whose eyes Jesus opens. Jesus made mud and opened his eyes. When some of the Pharisees questioned him, his response is that Jesus is a prophet. And yet the Samaritan woman at the well has already named Jesus the Messiah, many Samaritans from that city believed in him because they saw the woman’s passion and joy at her discovery that the man at the well is the Messiah. Jesus has healed the official’s son, the man by the Sheep Gate who could not enter the pool took his mat up and walked, Jesus feeds five thousand people, he walks across the water, and yet this man whose eyes were opened calls Jesus a prophet. It is only later, after being questioned, after the dawning of who Jesus must be, does the man really begin to see who Jesus really is.

The man’s parents and the neighbors could not see that it was Jesus in their midst. And the Pharisees could see nothing at all, except the sin of the parents, and the sin of healing on the Sabbath. What does it really mean to see?

There is a clue in the reading from Samuel. The story we hear today is the middle of a longer story about the Lord choosing a king for Israel, the Lord does not really want a king for Israel, but the Israelites insist. So the Lord looks over each of these candidates for kingship, and each of them is rejected. Eventually, the one chosen is David, and we all know David does not turn out perfectly. But in the middle of the story today, we hear “for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart. “

Is that what it means to really see? Surely that would be the meaning of the words “I see you,” as Jake Sully says them to Neytiri. Surely that would be the prayer in the words of our hymn today, be what I see Lord, be my best thought day and night, in my waking and my sleeping. What if we look upon one another with open eyes from the heart, would that change us? What if we look upon one another with eyes that forgive, would that transform our lives? What if we look upon one another with eyes of compassion, would we live more kindly, more gently? And, what if we truly believe that God looks upon us with love, forgiveness, and compassion, would we be transformed?

It is indeed the journey with Jesus and with one another that creates in us the gift of seeing. The blind man’s eyes indeed were opened, but it took some time before he was able to really see, before he was able to see who it was who gave him sight, before he was able to say “I was blind, now I see.” You see, this is fundamentally a story about grace. These stories before us today, all of them, the ancient stories from the Old Testament, the stories from the time of Jesus, and the very new stories that are told today, these are stories about grace. These are stories that reveal the truth of God in our midst. They are stories that reveal the truth of pain and suffering, of death and resurrection. They are stories that reveal the truth of disappointment and loss, and the new life that always results. They are stories that reveal the truth of communion and of community.

Together we walk the road, we make this journey together. We can’t do it alone. We can’t bear the pain and suffering alone, and we don’t want to bear the joy by ourselves. To see one another with eyes of the heart, to look upon one another with forgiveness and compassion, is to acknowledge our shared humanity; it is to recognize Jesus in our midst.

This season of Lent is a gift of opportunity. Lent gives us another chance to see, to see God in our midst, to see the gift of forgiveness and grace, to see one another as we journey together on this road of faith, to see one another on this road of compassion and mercy. Lent helps us to have clearer vision; it gives us a longer view.

And as we see more clearly, we realize that forgiveness and compassion are made manifest in who we are and what we do. What does it mean to really see? It means that our hearts are open to each other, especially those with whom we disagree. It means that we respond to God’s amazing grace by really seeing those who we are so unlike. It means that we approach God’s creation with our eyes, our hearts, our souls, wide open. And when we do that, we are able to see the need that is in our church and our community. The needs that you and I are able to address. We can feed people, we can clothe people, we can have hope and be the hope for others.

And as we do that, we reach out to each other, we hold hands, because most definitely we will step in the mess and the muck. We will step in the holes; we will trip over the obstacles. This Christian journey is a journey we take together, because together, we see more clearly.

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy: Come let us adore him.