Not One Stone will be Left

Jesus said, “Do you see these great buildings?  Not one stone will be left upon another, all will be thrown down.”  These are not comforting words for us, especially while St. Paul’s is in the midst of a tuck-pointing project to grind out and replace failing mortar in the joints of our exterior bricks.  I’d like to think this work will keep the building solid, well, forever.  Today’s reading is not comforting.

Solomon built the first Temple in Jerusalem in 957 BC to replace the movable Tabernacle constructed under the direction of Moses.  Over the next 100 years the Temple was sacked at least twice and left in disrepair.  King Jehoash made a push to have it repaired in 835 BC, but it was stripped again by an Assyrian invasion around 712 BC.  The Babylonians assaulted Jerusalem several times after that, completely destroying the Temple and sacking the city in 586 BC; giving rise to a period in Jewish history referred to as the Exile. 

That time came to an end when a Persian army led by Cyrus the Great defeated Babylon in 538 BC.  The new ruler allowed Jews to return to their homeland and authorized the construction of a new temple.  Twenty-three years later this work was complete, although the second Temple lacked grandeur of the first.  This structure was almost destroyed in 332 BC by Alexander the Great, who was angry that Jews refused to acknowledge him as a deity.

The Seleucids came to rule in Jerusalem in 198 BC.  They wanted to erect images of Greek gods in the Temple.  After a Jewish rebellion ensured and was brutally put down, efforts to change the Temple were halted.  Several years later Antiochus IV outlawed circumcision and worship on the Sabbath.  When he placed a stature of Zeus in the Temple Jewish anger rose to a boiling point.  In 167 BC a Jewish priest by the name of Mattathias was ordered to perform a pagan sacrifice, but rather than capitulate, he killed the Greek official.  This led to a mass uprising and Mattathias’ son Judas Maccabeus led the fight to free Jews from Seleucid rule.  The Temple was rededicated in 165 BC and many of the events around this period continue to be celebrated as a major part of the Feast of Hanukkah.

After Rome invaded Jerusalem in 63 BC, Pompey entered the Holy of Holies, the most sacred part of the Temple, thereby desecrating it.  Crassus looted the Temple treasury in 54 BC.  None of this sat well with Jews, but Roman rule was too strong to confront.  Herod the Great launched a major building project in 20 BC.  Construction on the Temple as Jesus knew it was largely finished just before birth.  The new structure covered an area roughly the size of fifteen football fields.  Its exterior was covered in white marble and had many gold embellishments.  Located on top of a high hill, you can imagine the reaction of pilgrims as they caught sight of it for the first time.   

If you want to understand the place the Temple held in Jewish society, try to imagine a single building that functions as our National Cathedral, Capital, White House, and Pentagon.  Add in the Untied States Treasury building and you begin to understand what this one site meant for Jews.  And while it held an incredibly significant psychological place, many Jews in Jesus’ day had mixed feelings about the Temple.  Yes, it was the epicenter of their national life, but also was rife with corruption and its core had shifted from devotion to God to collaboration with Rome.  Our gospel readings over the past few weeks have thundered with Jesus’ criticism of how it operated.  The text says many people listened “with great delight” as he sparred with and bettered Temple officials.  

Today’s reading has Jesus leaving the Temple.  One of his disciples has what one commentator calls a “Gomer Pyle” moment – the country bumpkin in the big city saying, “Well Gol-ly, this sure is a big building and them-‘thar’ as some big stones.”  The disciple is not exactly incorrect.  Some of the stones erected in the wall were as big as a city bus.  But Jesus is not at all impressed and is livid with how the Temple preys on the pious.  Jesus did not emerge in a cultural vacuum.  The span of his life was pocketed with several minor uprisings and revolts.  He was just one of many Temple critics and by the time he emerged Roman officials had come to realize better to eliminate the lone voice before it garners a larger following. 

The protest movements did not end after Jesus’ crucifixion.  Three decades after his death, an all-out war between Rome and Jews erupted in 66 AD, with the Jews enjoying early victories.  They set up a provisional government and it is telling that once they gained control, rebels broke into the Temple archives and burned all the records; effectively freeing all those made destitute by foreclosure on their land and assets as a means to finance the building project.  Jewish fanaticism was at an all-time high, as was the expectation God would send a messiah to lead them in a final battle against Rome.  It reached a fevered pitch when Nero, the Roman emperor, died in 68 AD and Vespasian, who was leading the army against the Jews, had to return to Rome because the capital was in disarray.  Many in Jerusalem proclaimed this evidence God was intervening on their behalf.  

Eventually Vespasian ceased control in Rome and sent to Jerusalem an army of 60,000 soldiers.  A siege was enacted that lasted several years.  In 70 AD the city fell and a bloodbath ensured.  The Temple was burned to the ground and, in the words of Jesus, not one stone was left on top of another. 

Scholars note Mark’s gospel was written right around this very time.  Either the city was under siege, or the Romans were in the process of destroying the Temple, or it was lying in ruins as the ashes smoldered.  Given this context, Mark’s record of Jesus’ words stands not so much as a prediction as a theological interpretation of current events.  Did you catch what I just said?  What we heard read this morning is not so much a prediction of future events as it is an explanation of what is happening.  Many people today misunderstand the bible’s apocalyptic writings.  It is used in turbulent times to interpret, not to forecast.

Given this, Mark portrays Jesus as saying several important things to his readers:

· These are crazy times and there are a lot of crazy people out there saying a lot of crazy things.

· Following crazy leaders has grave consequences.

· What appears to be destruction has the seeds of a new beginning – what Jesus calls ‘birth pangs’.

The destruction of the Temple and subsequent banishment of Jews from the Holy Land eventually gave rise to the Christianization of the Roman Empire and Western World as we know it.  It also led to a reinvention of Judaism, which now finds it locus not in a specific location, but in an ongoing practice of remembering.

As we gather this morning we realize anew we live in a turbulent world.  We see it in the horrific events that unfolded in Paris.  We see it in the cruel things that shape the lives our children and grandchildren.  And we see it in the personal challenges we never imagined we would have to face. 

I hear in Jesus’ words several things we need to hear:

· First, turbulent times call for vigilance.  Recognizing we are not safe is the first step we must take in order to be safe.

· Second, turbulent times call for great discernment.  When something goes wrong we want an explanation.  Who is to blame?  What did I do wrong?  What is God trying to say to me?  What will make this all go away?  As Jesus said, false prophets will rise up – be they spiritual leaders, political figures, or even close acquaintances – and they will give us easy answers to complicated questions.

· Finally, Jesus proclaims turbulent times, through the grace and power of God, lead to new beginnings.  The pain we experience is not the pain of death, but rather the pain of birth.  Something new is going to emerge – in your life, in the life of those close to you, in our world.  This is our faith, the faith we have received from Jesus.

We are a people of hope.  Hope is not a spiritual trait you draw on when times are good.  It comes to the forefront only when times are tough.  I remember in seminary talking with friends about the end times.  It was a heady conversation that encompassed all the various theories about tribulation, the end of the world, and final judgment.  I remember one person saying something like, “God’s Church is not going anywhere because the bible says Jesus will return for us like a groom comes to his bride as she is adorned for her wedding.”  “Brides,” he noted, “Don’t come to their wedding day dragging and tattered, but decked out in their finest.”  “That is us,” he said.  “We are not going to destroy the planet in a nuclear war [the big social issue at the time].  Somehow, someway, humanity is going to come together and present itself to Christ as a bride ready for marriage.”  Now, that is a statement of great hope and it has stayed with me.  It is as a vision that, through the grace of God, will be our future.  It is a future toward which we must labor daily. 

Jesus has told us what we need to do in turbulent times.  We are to be vigilant, discerning, and hopeful.  May the One who gives us this word give us grace to hear it, grace to accept it, and wisdom to live it.

The Poor Widow & The Temple Treasury

A parishioner approaches his priest.  “I have some bad news.  My old car finally gave up the ghost and yesterday I went to buy a brand new one.  The problem is my car payment is the same amount as my monthly pledge and I can’t do both.  I really need a new car and I hope you will understand.”  The priest, very excited, says, “I think I’ll go down to the dealership.  I didn’t realize you can buy a new car for that little.”

The Widow’s mite.  It is an enduring phrase that survives in our contemporary lexicon even though most people don’t know its origin in the bible.  If I had a penny for every stewardship sermon ever preached based on this story I would have a whole lot of mites.  I have some good news and some bad news.  The good news: I am not going to preach another stewardship sermon based on this text.  The bad news: by the time I am done, you just might wish I had.

Let’s put this story into context.  It is Tuesday in the week of the Passover celebration in Jerusalem.  On Sunday Jesus entered the city riding a donkey – a very intentional act with messianic implications.  Mark tells us Jesus enters the Temple and takes in the entire scene, but because it is late he leaves for the evening. 

On Monday he returns to the Temple.  Normally a busy place, during the Passover it resembles Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  Perhaps more than a million people have poured into the city for the festival.  They are obligated to offer various sacrifices while there.  Many have travelled long distances, making transporting the various animals required for these religious obligations quite difficult.  Over the years the Temple has developed a tidy way to deal with the problem.  They have set up a system that allows pilgrims to offer money rather than animals. 

Now, the most common form of currency at the time was a Roman coin that bore the image of the emperor, who claimed to be divine.  Temple officials held these inscripted coins contained a graven image and thus were unsuitable as an offering.  No problem, money exchangers set up shop in the Temple courts so pilgrims could trade Roman coins for currency acceptable as an offering.  Of course there was a cost for this service and moneychangers were notorious for exploiting a profit any way possible.  Jesus’ first act in the Temple is to turn over the tables of the moneychangers, claiming God’s house should be a place a prayer, not a den for thieves and robbers.  His act does not bring an end to this process.  It only disrupts it momentarily.  Still, it makes a statement and reveals Jesus’ deep dislike for what God’s Temple has become.

Now it is Tuesday and Jesus has returned.  If the Temple officials were leery of him before the incident on Monday, imagine their concern now.   A group is sent to confront him.  They demand to know by what authority he does what he does.  They challenge Jesus with a serious of questions, aiming to discredit him or, even worse, to find legal grounds on which to arrest him.

Once this confrontation ends, Jesus is sitting in the Temple courtyard women were allowed to enter.  It was sixty feet square with a colonnade running along its interior walls.  Thirteen wooden boxes known as Trumpets were located in the colonnade.  Each box had a trumpet-shaped funnel mounted on it.  Wide at the top and narrow as it came to the box, it was designed to catch coins pilgrims dropped into the various boxes.  Each box was designated for a specific purpose or sacrifice.  Worshipers were obligated to contribute to the first nine boxes while the last four were strictly voluntary.

Jesus is watching masses of people drop coins into these various boxes while at the same time scrutinizing Temple officials as they glide around in fancy cloths.  They are pompous figures who feed on the respect people must offer to them.  Their prayers are long and elaborate and intended only to impress those who are listening.  Jesus is absolutely disgusted with the entire scene.  The hypocrisy of it galls him.  He comes from humble roots and knows first-hand the toll these taxes take on the poor.  He knows what it cost his family and people in his community to feed this religious machine.  What sense does it make for a widow to be forced to liquidate her home in order to pay the Temple?  Whatever the original intention for the Temple was, what it has become by Jesus’ day is just plain appalling. 

He notices a poor widow drop two coins into one of the thirteen treasury boxes.  He reckons it is all she has to live on.  Based on his observation, Jesus must wonder how or even if she will survive.  He will be dead on Friday.  Will she even make it that far?  He points out to his disciples the egregious nature of a system where some people can afford to pay the Temple tax out of their abundance but the widow has to surrender everything in order to participate.

Her act is not an example for us to follow.  She is a victim of a very powerful and deeply corrupt system.  We should not feel ashamed that our pledge to the church is not as costly as hers.  We should feel anger at a system that treats people this way. 

And, as Jesus points out, a system is not some anonymous entity, it is a collection of people who benefit personally from the way things are.  This privileged group oversees a structure that uses religious pretense to take from the poor their marginal resources in order to perpetuate their own lifestyle of prestige and lavish living.  How desperate are these people to protect their system?  Well, about the same time this widow turns over all she has to the Temple treasury, Temple officials take thirty pieces of silver out of it to pay Judas to betray Jesus, whose teaching and actions are a major threat to the racket.

For centuries this story has been used to teach something important about Christian stewardship, but I think we have gotten it wrong all along.  Why would we applaud a destitute woman who was obligated to give her last two pennies to the Temple and then slipped away to starve?  Jesus is not calling us to emulate her example.  He is calling us to weep.  And to rage.

And maybe, just maybe, Jesus is calling his followers to give their lives to expose injustice in any and all forms we encounter it.  “Do you see what she has done?” he says to his followers.  “She has given all that she has, her very ‘life’ (bios in the Greek, a part of the root of our word biology – the study of life).  We will never know to what degree her example solidifies in Jesus’ mind what he must do, but in three days he too will give his bios to expose the Temple system for what it is.  As such, she is not a model for parishioners to follow at pledge time.  Rather, she is a courageous, prophetic figure more akin to Rosa Parks than a generous giver.

Well, I said earlier you might end up wishing this was just another stewardship sermon.  It seems to me what is difficult about what I have said is figuring out what to do with it.  Many preachers and many listeners might go from this point into the waters of politics; focusing on particular candidates or specific policies that promise to obliterate unjust systems and champion the cause of the oppressed.  This tact reduces your Christian obligation to walking into a voting booth and pulling a specific lever.  Even worse, it reduces Jesus’ glorious vision of the kingdom of God to support of one political party or the other. 

For me, I take away from this a mandate to reform and transform.  Neither is easy or clear.  It calls us to shift our charitable mindset from “doing good” to fostering new life.  Again, easier said than done.  Bill and Dixie Peachy have a vision of this through their support of the Boys and Girls Clubs of Suffolk.  It is an organization that seeks not to give ‘things’ to ‘needy’ people, but to foster life-changing and life-enhancing relationships transforming our community.

I would life to think that our Christmas Giving Opportunities are cut from the same cloth.  Boys Home of Virginia in Covington and Jackson-Feild Home in Jarret touch the lives of teenage boys and girls who are alone, disadvantaged, at risk, or who have struggled to find a way through our traditional educational process.  Our project will provide a modest Christmas for five youngsters at each institution and, through the grace of God, will encourage them on their path to a better life.

What we contribute to Episcopal Relief & Development will provide a wide array of resources to elevate the lives of a few specific people in a particular community:

· 100 trees for reforestation of a devastated area.

· A micro-credit loan that will engender economic opportunity.

· Three goats that will provide milk, cheese, manure to improve farming, and will reproduce quickly (everything on most of our Christmas wish lists, I’m sure!)

· A clean water source for three people.

· A care package for three newborns to improve health and quality of life at a time when infants are most susceptible to malnutrition and disease.  

“Do you see that poor widow over there?”  It is a question Jesus asked of his disciples and asks of us.  It is a great paradox in our time that we have the ability to see people scattered over every corner of our planet while at the same time feel so helpless to make a difference, even though we have more resources and opportunities at our disposal than ever before.  I invite you to join me in noticing the ‘poor widow’, in being aware of how systems and structures perpetuate hopelessness, and doing what you can to make things different.

The Emotions of All Saints' Day

I have told you before about the first time I attended a Palm Sunday service at an Episcopal Church.  In all my previous experience Palm Sunday was just, well, Palm Sunday – Jesus riding a donkey, people waving branches, lots and lots of hosannas.  It was a celebration of sorts – minor compared to Easter of course, sort of like a warm-up.  The Episcopal Church’s observance of Palm Sunday begins like this, but then it throws in the Passion, complete with us shouting out “Crucify him!”  It is a service of wild emotional swings and by the time Jesus has breathed his last and his lifeless body has been laid in the grave we in the congregation have been through almost every human emotion possible. 

Our service today produces similar swings, but unlike Palm Sunday, which is focused on Jesus, All Saints’ Day is much more personal.  It is about all those we love but see no longer.  As the blessing I will use at the end of the service says, today we reflect on those who have “baked the bread of faith and allured [us] with the aroma.”  From the Jazz music to the balloons at the Peace to the delicious desserts that wait in the Parish Hall, we are surrounded by the sights and sounds of celebration.  Also present on the streamers and in our Eucharistic prayer are the names of bread bakers who were dear to us.  It is possible and very human to revel in their memories while at the same time to grieve their absence from our life.  It is not at all uncommon on an anniversary of a death or on Mother’s or Father’s Day to see a friend post something like, “Even though you have been gone for 25 years, I still think about you every day.  Mommy (or Daddy), I miss you.”

Yes, this day elicits in us a whole host of emotions and not a single one of them is inappropriate.  Each is to be embraced and understood for what it is.

Today’s Gospel reading focuses our attention on the heart of story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.  Even in this condensed version we see a wide swath of human emotion on display.  I am particularly drawn to group labeled “the Jews”.  In an earlier portion of the narrative not included in today’s reading we are told these people are, for lack of a better word, “professional” mourners.  They show up when a person dies and join family members in grieving. 

Jesus wants to go to the gravesite to visit the place where his friend has been entombed.  The text tells us that Jesus weeps.  The grievers who have been watching this, say two things:

  “Look how much Jesus loved him.”

  “If he was able to open the eyes of a blind man why did he not save his friend from dying?”

These are two very powerful statements, aren’t they!  One is a confession that God cares deeply about us.  The other is the universal question of the faithful: why did God allow this terrible thing to happen.

Whenever I gather with a family at the passing of a loved one, in some form or another, this statement of faith and this question of faith are present: God loves the person I lost.  Why did this happen?  We hold these two opposites deep inside where, over time, they learn how to sit side by side with arms around each other.  It is an embrace which is at the heart of what we call “faith.”

Today’s Gospel reading concludes with Jesus calling out to Lazarus and when he comes out of the tomb instructing others to unbind him, and let him go.  This moment stands for us as a symbol of the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.  It is what lies ahead.  What lies behind is the initial shock of “God loved the person I lost” and “Why did this have to happen?”  On All Saints’ Day we realize we are somewhere in between.  We are somewhere on the journey from our loss to a joy-filled reunion.  The reason this day is filled with so many different emotions – emotions given a place and a space in today’s service – is that what is past and what is to come are very present to us in this moment.

I have told you before about how Celtic spirituality witnesses to the notion of “Thin Places”.  The Celts say that heaven and earth are only a three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller.  Don’t you experience this moment as a thin place?  Perhaps you come to church every Sunday because it helps you feel connected with those you have lost.  Today, this connection feels especially close.  We feel close to the echoes of the cries of the mourners who sat with Martha and Mary.  And today, it is as if Jesus is just about to call out to the tomb for our loved ones to come forth.  This is a thin moment.

May you be blessed while in this space.  May you leave confident you will see again all those you have lost.  May you be encouraged to taste again the bread they baked and to smell the wonderful aroma of their presence in your life.  May you go forth on your journey as a saint of God, touching lives as your life has been touched. 

The Son of Timaeus

It was the great mystic, poet, theologian, social commentator, and Peanuts character Linus who said, “Happiness is a warm blanket.”  Surely Bartimaeus, the blind beggar in today’s gospel reading, would agree.  But whereas Linus used his blanket to produce a feeling of security, Bartimaeus needed his cloak for to do so much more.  It was a shield from the sun and covering in the rain.  It gave warmth on chilly nights and cushioned the rocky ground on which he sat.  Somewhere in the cloak was a pocket to stow coins produced by begging.  It would be hard to overstate its value to Bartimaeus. 

So it is worth noting that when Jesus calls him, the blind beggar throws off his cloak and leaps up.  It is hard to imagine why he would leave behind something so important to him.  Given he is blind, there is a reasonable chance he will not be able to find his way back to where he let it drop.  It is also likely in the commotion someone else might make off with it.  Why would he do it?  Why would Bartimaeus carelessly leave behind a vital piece of property?  Linus guarded his blanket with the zeal of a bank guard.  We can understand Bart Simpson doing something this careless, but not a beggar whose life depended on this possession.

Perhaps he was too excited to think straight.  Maybe the emotion of the moment got the better of him.  He just sprang up and went to Jesus.  Or maybe Bartimaeus’ act is indicative of a deeper faith.  Maybe he believes so deeply he was going to be healed that he thinks the blanket will no longer be necessary.  Given this possibility, the cloak represents his old lifestyle of begging, which he will not need anymore.

Here is a third possibility.  The name Bartimaeus means “son (bar in Hebrew) of Timaeus.”  Is Mark trying to tell us who the beggar’s father is or perhaps is he trying to tell us something else?  Plato produced a work called Timaeus some 350 years earlier.  It is the philosopher’s attempt to explain the origin and nature of the universe and the role of human beings in it.  To call a person Bartimaeus is to identify him as an adherent to Plato’s school of thought.  In fact, pupils were often said to wear the cloak of their teacher.  Is Mark telling us the beggar sheds his cloak as a tangible sign of forsaking the Plato’s outlook in order to embrace to the teachings of Jesus? 

Did you notice how Bartimaeus addresses Jesus? When Jesus asks the beggar what he wants, Bartimaeus answers, “My teacher, let me see again.”  “My teacher” – isn’t this an indication Bartimaeus wants to see the world in a whole new way; not just with his eyes, but also with his understanding?  “Go,” Jesus tells him.  “Your faith has made you well.”  Bartimaeus immediately receives his sight, but rather than leave, he follows Jesus on the way.  He has the physically ability to see, but needs time with his new teacher in order to gain new insight and perspective.

After this encounter Mark never again mentions Bartimaeus by name, but does he disappear from the story? 

Today’s reading takes place just outside of Jericho.  It is not a long walk from here to Jerusalem.  In just a day or two it will be Palm Sunday.  Within a week Jesus will be crucified and buried.  Mark adds a rather curious detail to the scene of Jesus’ arrest the other three gospels don’t mention.  After all the disciples flee, he notes this:

A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth.  They [the arresting guards] caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked. (14:51-52)

Is this young man Bartimaeus?  Recent scholarship thinks it is.  Why doesn’t Mark identify him by name?  Because he is no longer a son of the Timaeus philosophy.  And what about the linen cloth?  If Bartimaeus had been a beggar and if he left his cloak on the roadside, it is likely he did not have much to wear, perhaps only a linen cloth to wrap around his body.

Before new converts were baptized the early Church  had them engage in a catechumenal process – a time of teaching where they were taught the essentials of the faith.  Once prepared for baptism, candidates were led to a body of water and stripped of their clothing.  Nothing from a person’s old life was to be carried into the new life of following Christ.  Candidates were thrust under water three times, once in the name of the Father, then of the Son, and finally of the Holy Spirit.  This was not gentle dabbling with a few drops of water.  It was a near drowning that brought a person as close to death as possible in order to emphasize sharing in resurrected life with Christ.  The newly baptized person emerged from the water and was clothed immediately in an all-white linen.  It symbolized the washing of sins and the beginning of a new life in Christ.

Bartimaeus, following Jesus closely throughout the events of Holy Week, learns firsthand what the Christian faith and life is all about.  In Mark’s gospel the young man disappears from the story naked and, we assume goes through his own process of dying even as Jesus is tried and crucified.  On Easter morning a group of woman go to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body with burial spices.  They are shocked to find the sealed tomb open.  Listen to how Mark tells the story from here:

As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed.  But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has been raised; he is not here.  Look, there is the place they laid him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” (Mark 16:5-7)

In this account the young man is now wearing a white robe, symbolizing he has entered fully into new life with Jesus.  He is sitting of the right hand of where the body had been laid.  Do you remember last week’s reading where James and John ask to sit at Jesus’ side in glory?  Do you remember how Jesus said it was not for him to grant, but that there was one for whom it was prepared?  Bartimaeus was the last person Jesus healed and last to follow him on the way, but the first person to proclaim Jesus’ resurrection.  He becomes a tangible embodiment of Jesus’ teaching that the last will be first. 

And notice what he says to the women:

  “Look” at the place where they laid him.

  Go to Galilee and there you will “see” him. 

There is a strong visual element to his directions.  It is as if seeing is very important to him, perhaps the final clue that Bartimaeus and this young man are one in the same.

Mark did not weave all of this into his gospel as an intriguing literary exercise.  He wanted to entice his readers to ask key questions of themselves.

If the cloak represents the old life of begging – a life of hopelessness and despair Bartimaeus had to shed – what is it you need to get rid of in your life in order to move into new life with Jesus?  It could be a relationship or a habit or a vice or job.  Whatever it is for you, it is emblematic of all that holds you back and all that holds you down.

And what if Bartimaeus’ cloak represents more than an old way of life?  What if it represents an entire worldview or ideology not oriented around the Gospel as made known through the life and teachings of Jesus?  What will it take for you to see the world in a whole new way?

Today we are told there is no objective truth.  Each of us, we are told, must find our own way.  It is your job to construct a reality that works for you.  Much about modern technology provides us with the tools and resources we need to pursue this task with greater or lesser vigor depending on our interest.  We are even encouraged to pick and choose elements from various worldviews that tickle our fancy. 

Jesus did not come to give people interesting tidbits to add to their stew of ideas and philosophies.  He came to proclaim God’s Good News:

· God created all that is and creation belongs to God.

· Each person is unique and special because each person bears the image of God.  Thus, each one of us is capable of producing incredible beauty.

· And while we have immeasurable value and potential, each one of us is also flawed.  We create brokenness with God, with one another, with creation, and with ourselves.

· This brokenness that flows from our flaws is not the final word.  God’s love is unfathomable, unshakeable, and unbreakable.

· Jesus embodies the depth of God’s love by embracing all who seek God, especially those rejected by others – the lost, the last, and the least.

· Jesus demonstrates the certainty of God’s love by carrying it all the way to the Cross and forgiving those who crucified him.

· By rising from the dead, Jesus assures us that new life is possible for all who turn to him and embrace his way of life.

· All who turn to Jesus are empowered to live as he lived through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

· The Holy Spirit guides us into community with one another and Christ-like compassion for all.

· It is in this community that we engage two practices central to Jesus’ hope for the world: baptism as a way to initiate people into the life and work of Jesus and Eucharist as a way of experiencing Christ’s presence through a community meal.

This is the worldview Bartimaeus grew to embrace after he left his cloak behind.  It is the most beautiful way to “see” the world I know of.  It is a beautiful outlook that beckons each one of us to shed our old cloak and follow Jesus on the way.

Expanding our "Abilities"

“We want you to do whatever we ask of you.”  What parent hasn’t heard this?  I think I used to say to my mother, “I am going to ask you to do something and you can’t say ‘no’”.  We know right away James and John are up to something and it isn’t going to end well for them.  “Grant that one of us can sit at your right hand in glory and the other at your left.”  Well, of all the things they might have asked for, I have to admit I didn’t see this coming. 

Perhaps James and John were thinking about the man who ran up to Jesus in last week’s lesson.  Remember him?  He wanted to know what he had to do to inherit eternal life.  Maybe that got them to thinking about their place in the life to come.  Most commentators see their request as hubris: the desire to be esteemed higher than the others.  While this may be part of what is going on, I see something else. 

Most likely James and John were the youngest of the disciples.  When Jesus calls them we are told they are the “sons of Zebedee” – perhaps an indication they are not adults. Perhaps you picture all the disciples as grown men, but with James and John it might be more accurate to think of them as being in the early teens.  They are young and impressionable and Jesus has made quite an impression on them.  They deeply admire him and want to pattern their lives after his.  They think they know what Jesus is all about, but their question and Jesus’ response suggest there is much they don’t understand.

Maybe I see this in James and John because I relate to them.  From time to time I am asked why I decided to go into the ministry.  Now, I have several stock answers, each varying in length and depth.  The most succinct is the one I offer most often: “I was very involved in my church growing up and admired my youth minister.  I could see myself doing what he did and so I chose this path.”  Short and sweet, right!  Well, the irony is my life as a priest bares little resemblance to what I imagined the work of my youth minister to be.  I saw only a small slice of what he did and that slice was what my young eyes deemed most “glamorous”.  As I look back, the things I saw him doing that I wanted to do – like leading a Junior High youth group – I don’t do now.  But all the other non-“glamorous” parts of the ministry fuel my spirit and make me thankful for my calling.

So here are James and John, young and impressionable and ready to be like Jesus.  They imagine it to be a straight, safe path to glory.  Jesus is about to set them straight.

Listen to the three verses that fall after last week’s lesson and come before today’s reading: 

They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid.  He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him

“See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”

Three times in Mark’s gospel Jesus engages in what biblical scholars label “disclosure discourses”.  Each follows a consistent pattern:

First, Jesus discloses how he will die.

Then, one or more of the disciples responds inappropriately.

Finally, Jesus corrects the disciples’ response with a paradoxical teaching:  

· “Whoever wishes to save his life shall lose it” and whoever loses his life shall save it” (8:35).

· “If anyone wants to be first, he shall be last of all” (9:35).

· “Whoever wishes to become great . . . shall be a servant” (10:43-44).

More than a desire to occupy positions of honor and prestige, I think James and John just want to be close to Jesus wherever he is going and wherever he ends up.  Even though Jesus has described it for them three times now, the brothers simply do not understand what Jesus will have to go through and why he will have to go through it to get to a place of “glory”.

“Are you able to drink the cup I will drink or to be baptized with my baptism?” Jesus asks them.  “We are able” they respond.  Oh, they have no idea, do they?

How do we become ‘able’? 

I remember being intimated at the prospect of becoming a father for the first time.  We weren’t ready financially and it was hard to imagine how a newborn was going to fit into our busy, complicated, and unpredictable work schedule.  I remember one wise, older church member saying to me, “No one feels ready for parenthood.  If you put it off until you felt ‘ready’ it will never happen.  But look around, we all had parents who figured it out.  You will too!” 

How do we become able?  I think it involves a willingness to engage life and to see it through.  Ability is developed over time through spurts and sputters and often is something you do not realize you have obtained until one day you recognize you have had it for some time.

That day on the road to Jerusalem James and John did not have the ability to do what Jesus had to do.  At that moment, they could not have stood up and endured persecution or died for him.  But they set themselves on a path and to a way of life that would get them there.  James was the first of Jesus’ disciples to be executed for the faith.  John was the only one to avoid martyrdom, but spent his final years in exile on the Island of Patmos.  They achieved “greatness” as Jesus envisioned it by giving of themselves to others in his name.

“Whoever wants to be great must be a servant.”

A typical spirituality holds Jesus went to the cross to die for our sins so that we wouldn’t have to pay the price ourselves.  But this thinking is hard to square with Jesus’ teaching to pick up our own cross and follow him.  It becomes difficult to reconcile with his call to serve as he serves.  These teachings don’t hold Jesus went to the cross so we don’t have to, rather they convey he invites us to follow him all the way to the cross – to that place where we die to ourselves so we might live for others.

Are you able to do that? 

If I am honest with myself, I have to admit I am a lot like James and John who say they are “able” but have no idea what it will take.  If I am honest, I will admit that I don’t know exactly what it means to die to self in order to live for others.  But, if I look back over my life, I can see how any number of events and decisions and actions have made me more able than I once was.  They have moved me from self-interest toward servanthood, but it is a process I am in, not a destination I have reached.

Being a part of a church should be many things for us.  It should give us a place to pray and to connect with God.  It ought to support us when we need help.  But more than anything, being a part of a church ought to challenge us to follow Christ by advancing our ability to serve others.   

Today is Commitment Sunday.  It calls each of us to consider what this place means to us and what we are willing to give to it as people who want to follow Jesus on the way.  The money we commit provides funds for payroll, utilities, building upkeep, and resources for various ministries.  The time and the talents we offer give life and vitality to the basic essentials our money supports.  Where would we be without a choir, volunteers in the Sunday School, people helping in the Food Pantry, and the dish or dessert you brought for today’s Pot-Luck Lunch?  There are so many ways we invite you to let go of self-interest in order to serve others.

Today we add a new opportunity.  I invite you after the service to come to the Parish Hall where you can assemble a Blessing Bag or an Agape Bag.  It consists of 15 non-perishable and hygiene items you put into a gallon-sized zip-lock bag that you can keep in your car and give to person you see in need.  It is a tangible sign of God’s love and our love for all people and it does not equate love with a dollar.  It gives you a different way to respond to the person at the traffic light looking for cash.  It challenges you to find a way to express verbally God’s blessing for every person you meet. 

My hope is that it will expand our “ability” to love as Jesus loves.   My hope and prayer is it will, in some small way, help us to take up our cross and follow Jesus.   

What is the One Thing You Lack?

“Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing.’”

What do you lack?  It is a great question to ponder.  Type it into Google, click to search, and you will find a plethora of articles about lacking energy, motivation, direction, self-confidence, sleep, Vitamin B… the list goes on and on.  What is the one thing you lack, the one thing that would make your life complete?  Maybe you doubt such a thing even exists.  Sure, there is stuff you may want and outcomes you may desire, but some magic elixir to address the one thing you lack?  What could that even be?

I enjoy reading Mark’s gospel while keeping in mind it was the earliest to be written.  I try to block out everything I know about the bible and read as if it is the first time I have heard the story.  I try to allow the narrative to unfold before me.  It is a particularly helpful way to approach today’s lesson, which is so often referred to as being Jesus’ encounter with the ‘rich, young ruler.’  Mark does not use any of these words and it is only at the end of the encounter we are told the man has “many possessions”, which is a far cry from being rich.

Look at the passage with fresh eyes and notice Jesus has set out on a journey.  Other translations say he in “on the way.”  If you remember last week’s reading (which takes place just before this one), you will recall Jesus was in a house.  He was stationary, but now he is moving, he is going somewhere, he has a purpose, he is on a mission.  Notice too that unlike the Pharisees who came to Jesus to ‘test’ him, this man runs up to Jesus to ask a deeply personal question.  His is not a technical concern about various interpretations of laws, but something he must have answered for his own personal sense of well being and peace: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” 

The most obvious response is no one earns an inheritance.  Either you are in the family or you are not.  Jesus seems to pick up on this because he tells the man he must demonstrate he belongs to God’s covenant people by adhering to God’s commandments.  The man confesses to following all of them since the age of accountability.  With this, he might reasonably expect Jesus to assure him he has eternal life.  We, the readers, hearing the story for the first time, might expect it too. 

What happens next no one expects.  The text says, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  At this, the man is “shocked” and leaves “grieving”, because, we are now told, he has many possessions.  Imagine how you would react to this if you had never heard the story before.  And imagine how you would react to what Jesus says next:

“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!  It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” 

Did you catch how Jesus switched the focus?  The man wanted to know about eternal life, but Jesus teaches about the kingdom of God.  The first is something that happens only at the end of this life, the second is a possibility here and now.  But being a part of the here and now kingdom of God is an impossible task, especially for the rich. 

You may be familiar with a couple of ways commentators have tried to soften this teaching.  Some point to a low gate in the wall of the old city of Jerusalem known “The Eye of a Needle.”  The only way to get a camel through this gate was to unload it and make it crawl – a difficult and arduous task.  Another suggestion is to change one letter in the Hebrew word for ‘camel’ so that it becomes the word for ‘rope’.  Again, getting a rope through the eye of a needle is no easy undertaking.  Each variation makes it difficult to be a part of the kingdom of God, but neither seems to fit well with the text because the disciples are “greatly astonished” when they hear Jesus’ teaching.  Jesus himself says of our own doing it is impossible for us to be a part of God’s kingdom.

What is the one thing you lack?

Based on his question to Jesus, this man – if we could ask him – would say he lacked assurance he would gain eternal life.  Jesus sees something different.  He sees a person who can gain the kingdom of God by following him on the way.  The only thing holding back the man is his possessions.  They present a logistical challenge: how do you carry all that stuff with you on a journey?  But even more, they present an emotional and perhaps spiritual challenge: they matter too much to him.

Social theorists are divided as to why human beings are materialistic.  One school holds having more stuff provided an evolutionary advantage and thus, over time, we have been hard-wired with the need to acquire things.  Skeptics point out for much of our evolutionary life humans have been hunter/gatherers – a lifestyle not helped, but hindered by excessive possessions.  Another school proposes our hunger for material things results in the evolutionary advantage of alertness.  It keeps us constantly on the lookout for ways to improve our chances of survival.  Again, skeptics point out many specious have done quite well while being at peace within their environment.

The psychologist Steve Taylor suggests a third possibility.  He holds that within each one of us there is something he calls “psychological discord.”  It is a phrase he uses to describe our inner discontent.   We deal with this internal lacking through external acquisition.  If this is the root of our materialistic urge, the question needs to be asked is it effective?  Do more things equal greater contentment?

Research across the board has been clear and consistent.  People focused on materialistic values actually have a lower sense of personal well-being than those who hold it as relatively unimportant.  In fact, people focused on material pursuits are more prone than those who are not to unhappiness, depression, anxiety, personality disorders, anti-social behavior, and health concerns.

Researchers studying how the brain functions have established that thinking about purchasing a new item – say a car – increases electrical activity in the brain’s pleasure center, releasing large amounts of dopamine and other ‘feel-good’ chemicals into the body.  The study also found that the same brain activity decreases shortly after a purchase, thus leading to all the negative experiences chronicled in earlier studies.

If researchers have found that materialism does not lead to happiness, can they point us toward what does?  According to Taylor, findings indicate “that true well-being does not come from wealth but from other factors such as good relationships, meaningful and challenging jobs or hobbies, and a sense of connection to something bigger than ourselves (such as a religion, a political or social cause, or a sense of mission)”.

All of this ought to give us reason to pause.  Might Jesus say to you what he said to the man in today’s reading?  What is the one thing you lack? 

I like Taylor’s image of psychological discord or inner discontent.  At some level it resonates with who we are and how we live.  There is a void in us.  We feel there is something we are lacking.  The questions are these: “What is it?” and “What do we need to do to fill it?”  The world may give us a newly shaped toaster and more powerful pickup truck, but Jesus says what researchers now demonstrate: the pursuit and preservation of possessions is a hindrance to happiness.

A particular phrase in today’s text keeps coming back to me: “Jesus, looking at him, loved him.”  It suggests another question to ponder: Who looks at you and loves you?  I am not talking about romantic love and I am certainly not talking about lust.  I am talking about the deep love another can have for us that is absolutely unconditional.  I am talking about the kind of love that, even if you receive it from only one or two people, it assures you of your own value and worth and place in this world. 

What is the one thing you lack?  My hunch is if we pondered this question long enough and if we thought about all the implications and benefits, many of us – perhaps most of us – maybe even all of us – would say the one thing we lack is people who look at us and love us.

Sappy religious sentiment bellows that Jesus loves us, this we know, for the bible tells us so.  It is such a common expression that most often the words float out of our mouths and into our ears.  But, if we are honest with ourselves we will acknowledge the message never actually makes it to in that deep place of psychological discontent.  For those of you with a good memory, it is the same reality I explored this summer in the sermon about “Did you get communion?”  It seems to me that the genuine and desperate religious pursuit is a desire to experience Jesus looking at us and loving us.  It is to be a part of a community of faith where people look at one another and love one another. 

I think Jesus was right.  It would be easier to get a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for us to find the kingdom of God, primarily because, as the old country song says, we are looking for love in all the wrong places.  But never forget that Jesus also said what is impossible for us is not for God.  May God look on you and love you.  And in that moment, may you have the grace to let go of every thing that gets in the way and holds you back.  May God’s loving gaze let you know your own value and worth and place in the world.  And may you carry this with you as the kingdom of God for the rest of your life, even to the life to come.