Love, the Rose

 

People, Look East: verse 2

Advent 3 / Year C

We continue this morning to reflect on the lyrics of our Advent hymn, People, Look East.  I have yet to give you any background on its author, Eleanor Farjeon.  Born in England in 1881, she is the only girl in a family with three brothers.  Given to ill health and poor eyesight, she is educated at home and spends considerable time surrounded by books and reading.  Much of her play constitutes imaginative games and storytelling with her brothers.  Nellie, as she is known, grows up to be a prominent writer of children’s literature, but is in no means limited just to this genre. 

Her most widely published work is the hymn Morning has Broken, penned in 1931.  She publishes People, Look East three years earlier, in 1928.  Her imagination shines brightly in each.  In Morning has Broken she links a gloriously sublime sunrise in the English countryside with her imagined dawning of the first day ever in the Garden of Eden.  In our Advent hymn she sees in common objects and occurrences metaphors for a life rooted in the hope the God of love is breaking into our world in fresh, new ways.

Today, Nellie invites us to muse on Love, the Rose:

Furrows, be glad.

  Though earth is bare,

  one more seed is planted there:

Give up your strength the seed to nourish,

  that in course the flower may flourish.

People, look east and sing today:

  Love, the rose, is on the way.

I have a vivid memory from our first pilgrimage in Spain walking a portion of the Camino.  It was mid-October and we were on a dirt path making a gradual climb while circling around a football field size pasture.  Looking down, I saw a farmer who was planting something, but I could not tell what it was.  What I remember about the field was its furrows.  There was easily a four-foot difference from the bottom of the trench where the earth had been cut open to top of the brow it made.  Now, I am no expert at farming, but most of the furrows I have seen have only been about a foot tall or so.  This was something completely different and to this day I wish I had made my way down to ask farmer what he was planting and why the furrows needed to be constructed so.

In previous verses of the hymn, we have been cast as a host and a bird.  Today we are a furrow; cleaved soil ready to receive a gift… a heavenly seed that will grow and flourish because we nurture it in our lives.  And what is this seed?  Love, the rose.

Roses grow best in a specific kind of soil: 1/3 clay, 1/3 coarse sand, and 1/3 decomposed organic material.  This combination provides the right mixture for stability, drainage, and nutrients.  If we are the soil in which God plants the seed of love, we might want to ponder what goes into making us most hospitable for it to grow.  I suggest it is a mixture of tending to our spiritual life, our emotional life, our psychological life, our physical life, and our relational life.  The right balance of these things will make us a fertile place for God’s love to thrive.

Spiritual, emotional, psychological, physical, and relational… what are you doing to tend to each?  Is there an aspect where you are over-focused?  Might there be a place where your attention is lacking?  Bishop Susan led a wonderful retreat on Friday evening and Saturday introducing us to various spiritual disciplines: Lectio Divina (a way of reading and meditating on Scripture), centering prayer, prayer beads, and walking a labyrinth.  She not only taught us about each but provided us with the opportunity to practice them. 

Bishop Susan began our time together by sharing a quote from Thomas Merton:

In a world of noise, confusion and conflict, it is necessary that there be places of silence, inner discipline and peace.  In such places, love can blossom.

Again, what do you need to do to make the soil of your life a place where God’s love can bloom and abound?

One more thought about furrowing.  I’m sure if the packed earth had the opportunity to weigh in it would opt to be left alone, not to be subjected to the excruciating process of being cleaved open.  Much better to remain a plot of dirt best suited for weeds and scrubs to grow than to go through the painful process of furrowing.  While we all wish our life was (as they say) a rose garden, there is something about the experience of being turned over which makes us better suited for God’s love to break through. 

I suspect Nellie wanted us to play with the idea roses are beautiful in appearance and scent and how they come in a variety of colors, each one taking on a specific meaning: red representing love, yellow friendship, white peace, and peach sympathy to name a few.  Perhaps Farjeon meant to remind us God’s love manifests itself in and through each of us in a distinctive way.  God’s love blooms in us in a way it can bloom in no one else.  Because you are uniquely made, you manifest Love, the rose, a way unique to you. 

Tend to your soil that is you and let God’s love thrive in all you say and do.

Love, the Bird

 

People, Look East - verse #3

Advent 2 / Year C

We continue our Advent reflections by looking at the verse we sang at this morning’s wreath lighting from the hymn People, Look East:

Birds, though you long have ceased to build,

  guard the nest that must be filled.

Even the hour when wings are frozen

  God for fledging time has chosen.

People, look east and sing today:

  Love, the bird, is on the way.

Its message is addressed to birds, but meant for us and there is a lot here to unpack if we are to get close to understanding its meaning and the hope it proclaims. 

Did you know there are over 10,000 specious of birds?  And did you realize 96 million Americans observed, fed, and/or photographed a bird the past year alone?  One of this Christmas’s hottest gifts is a birdfeeder with a doorbell camera mounted inside.  An app on your phone alerts you whenever a bird (or squirrel) appears to eat.  Because many birds are regulars, some folks even have taken to giving them names.  Jesus saw birds as being instructive and he told several parables which featured them… “Consider the birds of the air…”, he said.  So, birds are both a popular and biblical subject to ponder.

Birds, though you long have ceased to build,

  guard the nest that must be filled.

There are four basic tasks for birds to complete when building a nest.  The first is site selection and it is for birds all about what realtors say it should be for us: “Location!  Location!  Location!  While bird species choose different locations and styles for their nests, each is located and designed to create shelter from the elements and maximum protection from predators. 

The second phase involves the gathering of building materials.  Birds utilize twigs, grass, mud and other items chosen for specific attributes.  The closer at hand these basic resources, the easier and safer it is for a bird to collect them.

Next comes construction and this is where the real craftsmanship begins.  Birds weave, pack, smooth, and shape what they have assembled to form a strong, impressive structure.  Again, sizes, shapes, and locations vary, but each nest is a testament to ingenuity and skill.

The final stage involves “feathering the nest” with such materials as feathers, moss, and animal fir to make the interior warm and comfortable.  It helps the structure to be a suitable place to lay eggs, incubate them, and raise as hatchlings.    

Even the hour when wings are frozen

  God for fledging time has chosen.

Eventually birds must shift their attention from construction to reproduction.  The hymn has this process unfolding during the winter season, which is when a few birds such as the great-horned owl and bald eagles lay eggs.  However, most begin a family during the warmer months and seasons.  I take the line “the hour when wings are frozen” to be an allusion to the time of year the Christ child is born… in the bleak midwinter.

Not only is the verse set in winter, it comes after eggs have hatched, but fledglings are not yet able to leave the nest.  Their every need, from food to warmth to security, must be provided by their mother and/or father.  Their very survival depends on it.  To be sure, it is an awesome and weighty responsibility for the parents.  All the work which goes into building the nest is for not if the brood does not reach a point where its members can take flight.

What does all of this say to us?  Like the birds, we too are driven to create, to secure, to produce something of use, all the while giving birth to a new generation and caring for it intensely.  This work gives our lives meaning.  In many ways it defines who we are.  It can be incredibly satisfying while at the same time feel overwhelming.  It will push us to and beyond our limits.  It will force us to acknowledge our own limitations.  And it will reveal to us something more than what we add to this thing called life is at work in and through us.

People, look east and sing today:

  Love, the bird, is on the way.

What is at work in all we do is a love from beyond.  We do not have to look to the literal east to see it, but we do have to look.  Our awareness of the Holy most often is fleeting and defies words.  And yet we sense God’s love enveloping us and transforming our nest building and child rearing into something more than we can do on our own. 

Love, the bird reminds us how God’s love and life became incarnate as one of us.  We live as people of hope trusting this Love will be manifest in us through all we say and do; that our life’s work is more than an instinctual response to ancient patterns now manifested only through some chemical process directed by genetic material.  Our faith holds all we do is mysteriously and gloriously connected to the Creator of heaven and earth.  The season of Advent reminds us of the necessity to look ‘East’ – to God –while we are engaged in all the work we are given to do. 

Along with hope, it calls us to humility because, as a young sceptic might put it, “You are not all that.”  Yes, we work hard.  Yes, we seek to put forward our best effort.  But even with all of this… all we can do… we sense it is not enough.  Something more must be added; what Jesus referred to as adding yeast to the flour of our lives.  In this stanza of People, look East, we name yeast as “Love, the bird.”  It reminds us God’s power and presence is at work in our world and infuses something marvelous into everything we do.   

Love, the Guest

 

People, Look East - vs. #1

Advent 1 / Year C

I have decided this Advent to do something I have never done before.  The focus of my next few sermons won’t be on the lectionary readings, but rather the five verses of the hymn People, Look East, on which our Advent wreath lighting liturgy is based.  This hymn features evocative images and a catchy tune (once you become familiar with it). 

Each year’s Advent readings follow a particular thematic pattern:

Advent 1:  The final judgement.

Advent 2 & 3:  The appearance of John the Baptist and his message.

Advent 4: The angel Gabriel’s announcement and Mary’s response.

After all the years of musing on these readings, I am ready to take on something new and fresh.  Que the music for People, Look East!

Let’s begin with this: why look East?  The idea of East holds special metaphorical significance for most cultures around the world primarily because it is the direction from which the sun rises.  If you have ever driven overnight, you have experienced the anticipation and felt the longing for the first hint of dawn in the eastern sky.  Many religious traditions, including Christianity, experience sunset as being a kind of dying.  Sunrise is associated with resurrection, new life, birth, and optimism for the day to come.  These are a couple of reasons to look toward a metaphorical East. 

Another reason to cast our gaze to the East is because it holds deep meaning in the bible.  The Garden of Eden is built in the eastern part of the land of Eden.  When Adam and Eve are expelled from paradise God sends them west.  After Cain murders his brother, he is banished even further west.  Those exiled in Babylon return to Jerusalem from the east.  To look to the East is to yearn to return to a place of original bliss, to seek the restoration of life as God intends it to be.

In Matthew 24:27 Jesus says, “Just as the lightning comes from the east and flashes in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.”  It is something of an odd statement because lightning travels up and down and the weather in Israel generally moves from west to east.  Perhaps Jesus is saying when you see something completely unexpected, get ready to receive me.

And being prepared to receive Jesus is a good way to approach the first verse of the hymn:

People, look East.

  The time is near of the crowning of the year.

Make your house fair as you are able,

  trim the hearth and set the table.

People, look east and sing today:

  Love, the guest, is on the way.

If you hosted family and friends for Thanksgiving you know all about making your house fair, trimming the hearth, and setting the table.  Hopefully these tasks built a sense of anticipation and excitement for the arrival of those you invited and did not generate a sense of dread, regret, or being overwhelmed.     

As the hymn describes, we are now near the time of the crowing of the year – the birth of Christ.  This event compels us to be ready because love is about to break into our lives in a fresh and refreshing new way.  This is not to say love is only a visitor who appears for a few days and then is gone.  Rather, it draws on the reality guests have a way of bringing something new into our daily orbit.  And it is not to say Love the guest only comes at Christmas.  God’s love visits us over and over during the course of the year and throughout the arc of our life’s journey. 

In biblical times a guest brings news from beyond the local community, offers new insights and perspectives, and opens our hearts receive something from beyond ourselves.  Just as Abraham learns when he welcomes three visitors into his home and showers them with hospitality, our guests have a way of being God’s agents.  We experience the Holy One at work in and through them.

The gospels portray Jesus as being the host of a meal only once or twice: when he stands on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and cooks breakfast for the disciples to eat after they spend the night fishing and, most notably at the meal he shares with his followers on the night before he is arrested; what we refer to as the Last Supper.  Every other time Jesus is a guest at a meal rather than the host.  In addition, there is no biblical record of Jesus receiving anyone into his own home.

Here is the remarkable thing about Jesus, the guest.  Every time he has a meal in a person’s home or enters it for one reason or another, either something happens which elicits one of Jesus’ significant teachings, or something unfolds which dramatically changes the course of the host’s life.  Think of when Jesus attends the wedding at Cana, goes to the home of Mary and Martha, and has lunch with Zaccheaus.  He sits at table in the home of a Pharisee as well as a Roman soldier.  And several of his most significant healings take place in the home of an afflicted person.

“Jesus, the guest, is on the way.”  This image casts us as hosts.  Whenever we welcome a person into our home, our life, or our church – especially if the person is a stranger – we may just be welcoming Jesus into our midst.  And when we do this, we know something wonderful, something amazing, something transformative is about to happen.  This is also a time for us to invite Love, the guest, to enter into our own hearts and lives; to remember the same Jesus who sat at table and changed lives desires to enter into your soul and reign in your life.

People, look East, Christ, the guest is on the way. 

Violence or Truth

 

John 18:33-37

Proper 29 / Year B

“Are you the King of the Jews?”  Pilate’s question to Jesus echoes down through the centuries.  It is puzzling to Pilate while being vexing to us.  It perplexes Pilate because Jesus is nothing like the kings of his time.  Most earthly rulers of the era come into power through violence, killing all other contenders while maintaining control by eliminating any and all threats.  If an adult bible study wanted to concentrate on the history and linage of King Herod, for example, it would take several weeks to tell the story and a lot of graphics to have it all make sense.  Oh, and it would require a massive chart to track the body count of his reign, which includes scores of his ancestors, siblings, cousins, and offspring.  Pilate sees none of this in Jesus so he ponders why some proclaim this non-distinct, harmless Galilean peasant to be a king.

We, on the other hand, find the claim Jesus is King to be troublesome because, unless we have surrendered our lives to his reign, it means he has a claim on us we would rather ignore: “I am lord of my own life, thank you very much.  I’ll reach out to you if I need a favor or two, and I’ll do you will whenever it intersects with my own desires, but don’t expect me to surrender myself to you or to bow down in complete obedience.  You can be my helper, but I am my own master.”

Are you a King?

Pilate himself is not a king, rather a prefect; a governor appointed by the Roman emperor.  Within the hierarchy of Roman rule, holding this station in Judea is not a particularly distinguished assignment; something akin to be the mayor of Zuni. VA (if there is such a position).  As prefect, Pilate oversees the military in the region (who function more as a police force), heads the judicial system, holds power to execute capital punishment, and collects taxes and tributes.  His title authorizes him to appoint the Jewish High Priest and he has a close working relationship Caiaphas throughout his tenure, allowing both to misuse the Temple’s treasury at will. 

Philo, a Jewish historian of the time, describes Pilate as being a “man of very inflexible disposition, and very merciless as well as very obstinate.”  In Philo’s estimation, Pilate is “exceedingly angry, and… at all times a man of most furious passions.”  He is prone to cruelty and known for executing people who are “untried and uncondemened,” for which some historians report he is sent to Rome to answer this charge and, after judgment, ordered to take his own life.  Other traditions hold he and his wife convert to Christianity and there are some places in Christendom where he is actually venerated as a saint.  

Given this background it is easy to see why Jesus answers Pilate’s question by saying, “My Kingdom is not from this world” (or maybe better, “of” this world).  “If it were, my followers would fight for me.”  Jesus does not come to Jerusalem to battle it out with Pilate or Herod in order to become the king a specific area or people.  His Kingdom is different than theirs.  “My Kingdom is not from here.”  In other words, it is not going to come about and be secured in the violent ways earthly kingdoms are. 

Don’t think for a second Jesus is saying his Kingdom is in heaven and has nothing at all to do with this earthly realm.  After all, he teaches us to pray daily for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.  Jesus’ Kingdom has a different origin than Roman rule and its scope is much, much broader and deeper than anything an earthly sovereign can achieve.

If it does not originate from violence, then how does it come about?  Jesus tells Pilate this: “I came into this world to testify to the truth.  Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”  We might add ‘and follows my example’.  As former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry reminds us at every turn, “If it isn’t about love, it isn’t and Jesus.”  Given the personal witness of how Jesus lives his own life, we know if it isn’t about selflessness, compassion, humility, love for God and neighbor, etc, it is not of the Kingdom over which Jesus reigns.  The hatred of this truth… Jesus’ truth… as Dean Koonzt states in his book, Your Heart Belongs to Me, is the “taproot of violence.”

More than most, Dr. Martin Luther King understood the origin and nature of Jesus’ Kingdom and yielded to it in his effort to create a just society for all.  Here is what he believed and taught:   

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.  Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.  Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.  Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate.  In fact, violence merely increases hate.  So it goes.  Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.  Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

On this Sunday in particular, we are invited to ponder the nature of Jesus’ Kingdom and to contemplate in the depths of our hearts whether or not we are willing to submit to his most gracious rule.

Birthing Light in Dark Times

 

Mark 13:1-8

Proper 28 / Year B

The Church year is drawing to a close, so it is not by coincidence several of today’s readings draw from the apocalyptic genre of writing in Scripture.  This style uses vivid imagery to speak about current events too dangerous to address directly given the political climate of the time.  Its message, in the face of dire circumstances, most often is this: “Do not be afraid.  The difficulties of the present will pass.  God will see to it.  Something marvelous is about to happen.  Keep the faith, be watchful, and remain strong.”

At the end of today’s teaching, Jesus tells his followers when the warning signs begin “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs”.  Birth pangs literally refer to when a pregnant woman’s labor begins through the time of delivery.  Initially, the pain comes in intervals of about thirty minutes, but it speeds up in frequency to perhaps to once a minute.  It intensifies and becomes nearly unbearable.  When reflecting on this passage with several of my colleagues I asked those who have carried a child what it is like to anticipate birth pangs.  To a person they said it was a time mixed with anxiety and fear and a tremendous sense of anticipation for the new life to come.  Birth pangs in a potent metaphor for what the Cambridge Dictionary defines as “the problems that come with the start of something new, especially a big social change.” 

Some folks in the Christian tradition view apocalyptic readings as being predictive signs of the second coming of Christ, but, as I said, at the time of their writing they spoke to an ominous reality being faced by many at that time.  This by no means means apocalyptic writings have no significance or value in our day and age because often we live in a time of one peril or another.  The plea not to be afraid, the promise the difficulties in the present will pass, the assurance God will see to it, the hope something marvelous is about to happen, and the call to keep the faith, be watchful, and remain strong has something important to say to us in this post-election time in our country.

It occurs to me whether you voted for President-Elect Trump or for Vice President Harris there is something we all share in common: a belief this is a dark time for our nation.  Some see brightness on the horizon while others sense the darkness is expanding and deepening.  No matter your perspective we people of faith also have a common call to be the light of Christ in the world. 

For those who place great hope in the next administration I want to say you cannot abdicate your responsibility to be a light to a single political figure.  Voting alone does not fulfil your call to birth God’s love into this world.  And for those whose sense of what is about to come feels gloomier, let me remind you when you light a candle at noon, not much changes, but when you light it at night, darkness, no matter how deep, is overcome.  And, just as one candle has the power to dispel darkness from a room, so too God’s love being birthed in and through you has the power to transform our world. 

An old friend posted a quote by R.L. Knot.  She is the author of a best-selling book on Gentle Parenting:

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.

All things break.

All things can be mended.

Not with time, as they say, but with intention.

So go.

Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.

The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you.

Let me now turn to Thom and the Choir who weeks ago began working on an anthem, not knowing its message would be the perfect way to wrap up today’s sermon. 

Have You Heard God’s Voice?  – Frederick Chatfield

Have you heard God’s voice; has your heart been stirred?

Are you still prepared to follow?

Have you made a choice to remain and serve,

  though the way be rough and narrow?

Will you use your voice; will you not sit down

  when the multitudes are silent?

Will you make a choice to stand your ground

  when the crowds are turning violent?

Will you walk the path that will cost you much

  and embrace God’s love and sorrow?

Will you trust in One who entrusts to you

  the disciples of tomorrow?

Will you watch the news with the eyes of faith

  and believe it could be different?

Will you share your views using words of grace?

Will you leave a thoughtful imprint?

In your city streets will you be God’s heart?

Will you listen to the voiceless?

Will you stop and eat, and when friendships start,

  will you share your faith with the faithless?

We will walk the path that will cost us much

  and embrace God’s love and sorrow?

Will you trust in One who entrusts to you

  the disciples of tomorrow.        ~ Jacqui G. Jones

A Wholly Authentic Expression of Your Entire Being

 

Mark 12:38-44

Proper 27 / Year B

I suspect we are all familiar with today’s Gospel reading.  We have heard it before.  We know its meaning.  I probably don’t even need to preach a sermon about it.  Someone who gives all they have, even if it be a little, gives more than others whose contribution, though of a greater amount, represents a smaller portion of their assets.  This message, couched in Jesus’ warning not to be overly swayed by those who make a grand demonstration out of their giving, reminds us we should not think too highly of what we offer because it is not as great a sacrifice as what the widow in the story has given.

There… I said it.  We all have been reminded we could always do more.  Now we can move on because we have identified the heart of the lesson.  Or have we?  Should we just transition to the Creed, or is there something more here to explore?  Let’s poke at this reading a little bit.  Let’s prod it and probe ourselves to see if perhaps we have missed something laying beneath the surface of the action and the meaning we have assigned to it.

Looking beneath the surface is a good metaphor for approaching this passage.  Jesus is observing people as they place their obligatory contribution into the Temple treasury box.  Today we would say he is “people-watching.”  At one point he is overcome by the contribution of a widow whose act of giving two coins without fanfare leaves her completely impoverished.  

On the surface hers is an amazing act of faith and leads to a teaching moment which has come down to us through the ages.  But Jesus sees more than the surface action.  He also perceives what we might refer to as the ‘spirit in which it is given.’  Would Jesus have been as quick to praise the widow if, say, she was giving her coins spitefully out of sense of obligation to a hated family tradition?  Or if, say, she was trying to bargain with God in order to improve her lot in life?  Probably not.

How important is this ‘spirit in which it is given’ thing?  Well consider why Jesus is critical of the religious leaders he observes as they come to the treasury.  It is not because they make a small offering, and it is not because their gift is a just pittance of their wealth.  He criticizes them for giving in order to be recognized and honored.  He criticizes the spirit of their giving more so than the amount.

So, of course, Jesus would not have extolled the value of the widow’s act if, on the surface, it was not an incredible sacrifice, but neither would he have pointed to her if beneath the surface… in the world of motives and emotions… her offering was anything other than genuine.  In addition to calling her offering a complete sacrifice, we might say for her it is a wholly authentic expression of her entire being.  Did you catch that?  It is wholly, authentic expression of her entire being.  Short of this her offering, though sacrificial, would not have been as worthy of comment.

A wholly authentic expression of your entire being.  What in the world do I mean by this?

We are conditioned for conformity, not authenticity.  In the struggle between embodying the values of family and community verses embracing the uniqueness God has created within each of us, often we lean too far toward family and community at the expense of self.  We are satisfied with outward mimicking while not valuing the wisdom of our internal life.  Jesus is concerned with this.  Time and again he lifts up the value of interior motivation.  He knows the heart must be right and the widow’s gift comes from the heart… the whole heart.  It is an expression which encapsulates all of her gratitude for life, her joy, her sorrow, her fear, her faith, her pride, her pain, her shame, and everything else going into the complex mix of marvelous and murky things which make her her.

What about you?  When do you offer something that is a wholly authentic expression of your entire being?  What might this look like?  Well, for one person it might look like a covered dish for a potluck supper.  For some preparing something to offer at a potluck initiates an incredibly rich experience.  It begins with a detailed, almost prayerful search of the recipe books.  It may involve trips to several different groceries to get just the right ingredients.  The cooking process may be a daylong procedure, perhaps two, and all the smells and sounds and even the dirty dishes may evoke cherished memories of baking with a grandmother long deceased.  And then, on Sunday after church, a dish… and incredible dish… is offered with joy and pride and fear and hope and everything else the one who prepares it (if you will pardon the pun) brings to the table.  Me?  If I have to bring something to a pot-luck… I’ll simply go to Food Lion and get two pints of potato salad.  

What’s the difference?  I am shouldering my portion of the responsibility for our common life, but the other person is making a wholly authentic expression of his or her entire being.  Make no mistake, both are important.  But what if I never find the thing or those things which are authentic expressions of my entire being?  And in never finding them cannot offer them to God or to this community I love so dearly?  I will not be me… the me God has created, claimed, called, and empowered through baptism.

What do you offer that is a wholly authentic expression of your entire being?  Only you can answer this... no one else.  Perhaps an answer readily comes mind.  Perhaps not.  If you were walking past the Temple treasury box and could put anything into it… anything at all… what would it need to be for Jesus to gather his disciples around and say, “Did you see what that person just put in?  Truly I say to you he/she has put in more than everyone else?”  What is your Widow’s Mite?

I Want to See Again

 

Mark 10:46-52   

Proper 25 / Year B

You will recall our reading a few weeks ago as Jesus and his followers set out on a journey which takes them from the shores of the Sea of Galilee, south along the Jordon River, and ultimately to Jerusalem.  Today’s reading finds this group in Jericho where the way turns east and pilgrims undergo an arduous uphill journey to the Holy City.  How strenuous is it?  Well, let’s just say there is good reason why one of the biblical names for Jerusalem is Mt. Zion!

So here at this turning point, a blind beggar learns Jesus is passing by.  He cries out, “Son of David, have mercy on me.”  He is persistent, yet those around him find him pesky.  The more they attempt to silence him the more determined he becomes.  “Son of David, have mercy on me.”  That he calls Jesus the “Son of David” is significant.  It indicates the blind man links Jesus to the Scriptural tradition the messiah will rise from David’s lineage. 

When Jesus hears him shouting out he stops and instructs his followers, “Call him here.”  The wording here is interesting.  Jesus could have said, “Bring him to me.”  He could have instructed his disciples to help the blind man through the crowds.  He could have worked his way over to where the beggar was seated.  But no, Jesus calls him.  So this, in part, is a story about calling; about the opportunity to find something more substantial than mercy.

Jesus asks him the same question he asked James and John in last Sunday’s reading, “What do you want me to do for you?”  The blind man’s request will be met much more favorably than that of the two disciples.  “My teacher, let me see again.”  Unlike the person in John’s gospel who is blind from birth, this man once could see, but for reasons not revealed by the text became blind at some point in his life. 

Once he could see.  Now he can’t.  I pondered this dynamic and asked a simple question: What was I once able to see, but now am blind to?  My thoughts went in two directions.  The first is our nation. 

There was a time when we thought of us in terms of “we” – we the people.  We were never united by a shared political perspective.  Back in the day we fought over substantive matters, debated solutions, went to the ballot box, and lived graciously with the outcome.  Why, because at our very core we acknowledged our common humanity and the right of each person to be a part of the whole.  We placed this over and above any and every difference between us.  We had respect for one another.

That was when we could see, but somewhere along the way we began to lose our sight.  Now, instead of “we”, we speak in terms of “us” and “them”.  The words we use to describe “us” paint a picture confirming “we” are righteous and good and enlightened and the faithful carriers of our great national heritage.  The words we use to describe “them” are dark: they are dangerous, they don’t love our country, they want to destroy democracy, they are ignorant, they are vermin, they are the enemy who must defeated at all costs.  It doesn’t matter which side of the political landscape you dwell, there are only two sides: those who think like “us” and “them”, those who don’t.  We can longer see anything like “we”.  We, as a people, our blind to the highest ideals on which our country is founded.

So this is one kind of blindness I pondered.  The other is very different and I began to consider it while on our bishop’s clergy retreat last week.  Jim Davis and Michael Graham were our presenters.  They wrote a book titled The Great Dechurching: Who’s Leaving, Why Are They Going, and What Will It Take to Bring Them Back.  They commissioned a large and comprehensive study to discern why people who once went to church no longer do.  How many people are there?  Well, in the last 25 years, 40 million Americans have left churches and other religious institutions.  They were not all members of mainline churches.  Increasingly they are Roman Catholics and Evangelicals.  Davis and Graham drilled down into the massive amount of data they gleaned from 7,000 survey responses. 

Now, we all know people who have left the church and I suspect many of us have our own thoughts as to why they did so.  Davis and Graham opened my eyes to a much more complex reality which, while not necessarily true for everyone of these 40 million people, reveals unexpected insights.  I have to say, I was blind to this before their presentation.

Here are three things I learned.  First, why are people leaving?  Yes, some folks’ decisions are rooted in real pain.  But most folks left the church because they moved.  Other factors, like changes in the family or inconvenient service times, play a factor.  Next, what do they long for from what they left behind?  Most said a sense of community, belonging, and new friendships.  What would bring them back?  Brace yourself… a personal invitation.  These insights, for me at least, restore my sight as to what is going on with declining participation in a religious community such as ours, and what we can do about it.  

And speaking of sight, the blind man has his restored.  Remember a couple of weeks ago when the man who wanted eternal life approached Jesus.  Remember how Jesus extended an invitation to join him on the journey?  Do you remember how the terms and conditions of selling all he owns did not suit him?  Well today, the blind man casts off his cloak, perhaps the only thing he owns, when he comes to Jesus.  When his sight is restored he immediately joins Jesus on the way.  And he must have stayed because years later, when Mark sets out to write his gospel, he remembers his name – Bartimaeus.  As we regain our sight in those areas where we once could see but now are blind, may we do as Bartimaeus did, be willing to divest of the patterns and perspectives we developed during our blindness and join Jesus on the way.