Sermon for St. Martin's Day and Armistice Day

Today is a day for remembrance: it is the feast day of St. Martin of Tours—our patronal feast day, known as Martinmas. And just a few minutes, we will commemorate the 100th anniversary of the end of the so-called Great War, which we now know as World War I. So it’s fascinating.

Our patron saint, Martin of Tours, was born to pagan parents from Yugoslavia in the 4th century of the common era, with his father being a senior military officer in the Roman imperial guard. As a child, he grew up in Italy, where his father was stationed, and at age ten it is believed he attended a Christian worship service against his parents’ wishes, and he became a catechumen, or someone undergoing religious instruction to join the Church. Back then, the minimum time for the catechumenate was three years but was often longer.

Then, at 15, Martin was required to join the army as well, and he became a cavalry soldier. It is said that while he was stationed in Gaul, near Amiens, a beggar approached him in the cold and asked for some alms. In response, Martin cut his military cloak in half with his sword. Later that night, Christ appeared to him in a dream, clothed in the half of the cloak he had given the beggar. Martin then determined to be baptized, and he was.

He eventually realized that he felt he could not be a Christian and be a soldier of Rome, and so he requested to be released from his 25-year commitment to the army. This was right before an impending battle, so he was charged with cowardice and thrown into jail. He offered to stand unarmed before the enemy army, holding nothing but a cross, and army officials were ready to take him up on his offer—but the enemy sued to surrender, and so Martins was discharged. He eventually made his vows as a monastic, but gained a reputation for piety and holiness.

The people of Tours decided to make him their bishop, but he wanted nothing of it. So the story goes that he was tricked into the church to be elected bishop on the excuse that someone needed healing. One story claims that he was so reluctant to be elected that he hid in a barn full of geese, and they dragged him out, covered in feathers and probably goose-poop, and finally persuaded him to accept election as bishop. Nonetheless, even though bishop, he still lived in a monastery outside town that he had founded called Marmoutier, where his holiness had attracted several hermits who lived in small cells around him. He was known for travelling to every parish in his diocese once a year, often on foot.

Martin is the patron saint of, among other things, beggars, soldiers and conscientious objectors, winemakers AND recovering alcoholics. He is the patron saint of geese, whose migration is usually simultaneous with his feast day, and although he is that patron saint of France, in England his emblem is a goose, and it is said that traditionally, the geese begin their migration south of St. Martin's Day. 

Martinmas is also connected to the end of World War I. Martin remained somewhat popular in France even during the French Republic, but for a while his popularity flagged in France as violent anti-religious sentiment swept across it in the Enlightenment. Until World War I. World War I was a new kind of World War, fully industrialized, and the loss to human life was staggering for that time. Entire villages in England and France lost nearly all of their young men in the fighting.

The horrors of mechanized trench warfare, machine guns, and poison gas left a lasting impression on the survivors, and the experiences of fighting in World War I helped influence an entire generation of writers, including JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis, as well as the poets Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen.

Canadian physician and officer John MacCrae wrote his famous poem “In Flanders Fields” after he presided at the funeral for a friend killed at the second battle of Ypres.

As the war dragged to a terrible end, the cease fire eventually was declared at 11:11 am on November 11, 1918—St. Martin’s Day. The French people had a resurgence of piety regarding the saint, with some believing that his intervention had helped spare France from any more of the horrors of the conflict, which was fought largely on French and Belgian soil in the European theatre.

Thus, St. Martin’s feast, and Armistice Day, the original name for this Veteran’s Day we now remember, is dedicated to honoring peace and the sacrifices of those who fought in World War I. St. Martin’s feast and the celebration of peace and those who sacrifice to defend peace are forever linked. The feast day of the soldier and conscientious objector is also the day that this horrific war came to an end.

This is why, every time we celebrate St. Martin’s Day, we honor also those who have sacrificed and continue to sacrifice upon the fields of battle, even while we fervently give thanks for peace—real peace that is grounded in abundance for all because we realize the interconnectedness of all.

We celebrate not the war, but the peace that brought World War I to an end, while acknowledging that it, tragically, was NOT the “War to End All Wars.”

Here in America, we have modified Armistice Day to a day to honor all veterans, to acknowledge that we still pray for an end to the necessity to send our young people into terrible conflicts. Yet every time I look at the American flag, which represents the ideals for which my grandfather fought in the trenches in World War I, my father and father-in-law and uncle fought for in World War II, for which my other uncle fought for in the Korean conflict, my cousin and my father-of-the-heart fought for in Vietnam, I remember that it has seldom been carried into battle alone.

Every time I look at that flag on this day, especially, I remember the other flags who have stood and continue to stand alongside it in war and in peace, but especially in pursuing true peace and security for all, both here and abroad.

This is the dream of God for our lives: true abundance. True peace. True commitment to fellowship, kinship, the recognition that we are all conjoined, made in the image of God, called to work for the peace and care of everyone.

Our readings from Isaiah today though remind us that our observances must honor the dream of God for our lives. The dream of God for humanity is to study war no more. This is why the reading from Isaiah for today is particularly appropriate. God never desires the sacrifice of life—wars come about due to human decisions. Each one of those poppies, dancing among the crosses in Flanders' fields like drops of blood, remind us that we worship a God of peace and love, not of war.

Our God is the God of all, and calls us to use our resources for the good of others:
Setting the oppressed free,
Feeding the hungry,
Clothing those who are naked,
Housing the homeless.

All of these things require the will to prioritize the dream of God for us as the feast we truly celebrate. But Isaiah goes further: the practices that please God include
Not trying to oppress or disdain others,
Not blaming others, or talking about them behind their backs,
Repairing breaches where we find them in relationship
And working for peace.

The fast that truly pleases God is the sacrifice that makes all people whole. The feast that pleases God is one that is founded on care and empathy for all people, whatever their situation. The fast that pleases God is a fast that leads to a feast. A feast that celebrates the reverence for all life, and seeks to care for the lowliest person among as if that person were the most auspicious person on earth.

May we celebrate, on this St. Martin’s Day, our common commitment to each other, our willingness to care for each other, truly love each other, and to give to each other the compassion and peace that is rooted in our gratitude to God, the Father of Peace, the Son, the Prince of Peace, and the Holy Spirit who sets our hearts ablaze with the wisdom to seek peace and compassion in all we do. May we be today rededicated to the mission of this parish to be a beacon of Christ’s love and true peace in the world, together.

Amen.


Preached at St. Martin's Episcopal Church- Ellisville, at the 505 on November 10, and the 8:00 and 10:15 services on November 11, 2018, which is both the Feast Day of St. Martin of Tours and the 100th anniversary of the armistice that ended World War I.


Readings:
Isaiah 58:6-12
Psalm 15
Galatians 6:1-2
Luke 18:18-30

Prayer 2114: On the Centennial of the Armistice that Ended World War I

Almighty God, we remember before You today the centenary of the end of fighting in World War I, and we honor before You those who fought and who were killed or wounded in that terrible struggle. We remember before You the millions of civilians killed or made homeless in that terrible conflict, and the generations of young men whose loss still affects their countries.

On this day, may we celebrate peace, peace that is founded on security for all, peace that calls for respecting the dignity of all persons and nations, peace that seeks to build the world rather than destroy it.

Every life lost is a world destroyed, O God.

We pray for our veterans, the men and women who served this country, in all the wars and conflicts since, that they be honored for their sacrifice and cared for in their needs.

We pray that we honor the fast You have chosen, O Almighty One: to care for each other with compassion, kindness, and generosity, and to protect the vulnerable with the same force and determination we present in any conflict, remembering that we are all knit together by humanity.

Lord, You know our needs and our concerns: rest your protecting hand upon those for whom we pray, and grant them comfort and aid

Prayer, day 2113

Yours is the night and yours is the day,
O God Most High,
and we raise our thanksgivings to You
with the rising sun.
Happy are those who act with justice,
and always do what is right!
We rejoice to do You homage, Lord,
for You are the source of all our blessings.

Let us preach peace to those far off and near,
and live out peace in our own lives.
Let us hasten the coming of your kingdom
by being used to your glory and honor,
loving each other as ourselves.
Let us aid the weak,
work for the common good,
soothe the afflicted,
and care for the vulnerable among us.
Let us extend the hand of brotherhood to all,
and love and live without fear.

Grant your mercy and blessing to those
we now lift up in our prayers.

Amen.

Prayer 2109

Most Merciful God,
we praise you for your steadfast love
that watches over us
and calls us into integrity and compassion.

Give us the wisdom and will to walk in love,
to turn away from falsehood, division, and fear,
and rather be led by the Spirit of Truth
in the Way of Peace and Compassion.

Make us brave in our witness
as we claim to be disciples of Jesus,
to work to heal and repair the world
where it has been wounded
by our own carelessness and exploitation.

Holy One, stretch out your healing hand
over all who cry out to you,
and envelop within the arms of your mercy
all those for whom we pray.

Amen.

The Lazarus Heart: Sermon for the observance of All Saints'/All Souls' Day

Today we celebrate and commemorate the combined feasts of All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day. We remember the faithful departed-- those who have witnessed to us the love of God in our lives and in the world.

So, today, I want to tell you three love stories.

The first is the love story of Naomi and Gladys.

Naomi Feil is a Jewish social worker and therapist who works with patients with Alzheimer’s and other dementia that causes loss of communication. She visited 87-year-old Gladys Wilson to try to help Gladys communicate, because Gladys had late stage Alzheimer’s disease, and was mostly non-verbal after a stroke as well.

Gladys spent most of her days moving her left hand repetitively, unable to speak. Naomi uses gentle touch and music to connect with people with these illnesses. There is a video of her visiting with Gladys—have any of you seen this?

Naomi starts by sitting in front of Gladys at eye level and speaking gently with her. Eventually Gladys focuses on Naomi and Naomi starts to sing to her, songs of Gladys’s childhood in the African American church tradition. Apparently Gladys had been a devout churchgoer from the time she was an infant, and so Naomi starts singing “Jesus loves me” in rhythm to Gladys’s movements. 

Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so,
Little ones to him belong,
They are weak but He is strong.

As the song begins, Gladys changes from shaking her arm back and forth to tapping in beat to the music on the arm of her chair and then on Naomi’s arm, and Naomi sings in rhythm to the tapping, so that Gladys is now taking the lead in the speed of the song.

Yes, Jesus loves me;
Yes, Jesus loves me;
Yes, Jesus loves me--
the Bible tells me so.

Gladys’s eyes are closed at first, but when Naomi asks her, Gladys opens them and looks straight at Naomi. Naomi then asks Gladys if she feels safe with Naomi and safe with Jesus, and Gladys replies “yes.”

Naomi then begins to sing “He’s Got the Whole World In His Hands,” and Gladys begins singing along, sharing the song—Naomi sings “He’s got the whole world…” and Gladys whispers forcefully “in his hands.”

He's got the whole world in his hands!
He's got the whole world in his hands!
He's got the whole world in his hands!
He's got the whole world in his hands!

Together, they sing the entire verse of the song together. Even though Naomi is Jewish, she sings Christian children’s songs to Gladys, and gives Gladys the gift of communication back, if only for a moment. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, and I’ve probably watched it dozens of times since I first saw it. I've cried every time I've seen it too-- and not just because I'm a sap, although I am, but because something this beautiful should be worthy of our tears of appreciation and wonder.

It is obvious that Naomi has learned and sings this song to Gladys out of the love, respect, and empathy that fuels her work with the elderly and disabled, people who are often locked into their own worlds. In that moment Naomi is Jesus to Gladys.

I was thinking about that video of Naomi and Gladys as I was thinking about our scriptures today. Here we are at the beginning of November, and there’s a lot of change that happens in November. Baseball season is bitterly over. The clocks change. The nights get longer. Thanksgiving is coming up, and the day after Thanksgiving, most Americans rampage out to buy more stuff mere hours after they have commemorated thankfulness and gratitude.

The days get colder, and there’s usually a lot of rain here in St. Louis. There’s usually an election of some kind, and this year’s especially is fraught with anxiety, nastiness, and fear. We liturgical Christians are coming to the end of the liturgical year. In other words, it’s dark, cold, damp, and tense.

And somehow, this is the season when we inevitably have stewardship campaigns. Because, why not? Awesome, right?

Our readings today are meant to remind us of God’s constant presence and love in our lives—a love that extends even beyond the grave. We commemorate the saints in our lives who have shown us the way of God, and as I was thinking about saints right now, one of the saints I thought of was Naomi singing to Gladys and making her feel safe, restoring to her a sense of security, peace, and connection, but most of all the assurance that she was known, valued and especially loved, even in the grip of an illness that causes confusion, frustration, and anxiety. I thought of the doctor at Tree of Life Synagogue and all the first responders who ran TOWARD the sound of shooting. Those are some of my saints right now, the righteous ones leading us to see the love of God.

Watching Gladys reconnect, reawaken, and respond to the call of love was like watching someone literally come to life again. It was a kind of resurrection.

This bring me to my second love story.

 Of all the people in scripture, there are only a few of which it is said that Jesus loved them. We all know that Jesus LOVES us, just as Naomi sang to Gladys, and Jesus had disciples and apostles and a mother and brother and sisters, but there are very few people singled out as Jesus’s friends. Lazarus, and his sisters Martha and Mary of Bethany are three of those people. John’s gospel makes it clear that Jesus loved this family especially, as his friends.

Yet even as much as Jesus loved his friends Lazarus and Martha and Mary, Lazarus still dies, leaving Martha and Mary potentially destitute in the culture of that time. And Jesus weeps over the loss of his friend. He feels the sorrow of that parting and the bitterness of death as much as any of us do.

So one thing I think this reminds us is that loving and being loved by God does not mean that we will be protected from bad things happening to us, even pain, suffering, illness, and death. Even Jesus is not protected from loss, and from mourning the losses he encounters. As we have recently heard in the letter to the Hebrews, the fact that Jesus has experienced everything we have, sorrow and loss as well as joy, makes him our great high priest.

That’s part of the assurance we have in Christ. If you live long enough, there are many losses you will experience. Yet even through those losses, Jesus’s actions in this story remind us that God’s love is always with us. As the reading from the Wisdom of Solomon reminds us, even in death we are never separated from the love of God, and that is the third love story we hear today.

The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God,
and no torment will ever touch them.
In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,
and their departure was thought to be a disaster, 
and their going from us to be their destruction;
but they are at peace. 
For though in the sight of others they were punished,
their hope is full of immortality.

Love never dies, even when our bodies wear out and our earthly lives here end. Love doesn’t protect us from loss—some, in the throes of heartbreak are despairing enough to think that if they don’t love, they will never experience the pain of loss again.

Yet, even this is not so. For love is what carries us through loss. Love is what, over time, dulls the sharp edges of loss and sweetens the ache of memory until we move to being grateful for the blessing of love in the first place.

Just like Lazarus, the call of love calls us out of the tomb of our lives of fear, anxiety, loss, and despair. Just like Lazarus, the call of God to us to new life through faith and resurrection restarts and reawakens our cold hearts of stone, calling them to beat anew in our chests. God calls us to wakefulness, calls us to stumble out of the desperate darkness that enshrouds us, to pull the veil from our eyes, so that we may truly see, truly love, truly be free.

Through the love of God, calling to us through even the deepest darkness, we stumble into life and are restored to hope. The abundant, generous, unfailing love of God in our lives gives us the courage, the heart, to carry on whatever may come, sure in the knowledge that we are never alone, that we are one in the Spirit and one in the Lord, as the song of my childhood goes.

The heart of Lazarus beats again to the call of love. Oh, that we could all welcome the Lazarus heart to beat anew within us! God calls us through love to awaken, to be set free from the bandages of fear, hatred, suspicion, anger, and resentment that keep us dead to the full humanity implanted within us and within each other.

God calls us to be unbound, and be set free, just like Lazarus, through love.

The love of Naomi in calling to Gladys through song, the love of Jesus calling to Lazarus from the grave, the love of God in calling us to resurrection and new hope, new faith. There’s freedom there—true freedom. Freedom rooted in hope and community, bound up in love and empathy for one another.

Love calls us to walk from the darkness to the light, and it is the darkness that helps us see how precious the light is. Love that is perceived not by just the eye, but by the resurrected, Lazarus heart.

Amen.

Preached at the 505 on November 3, and at the 8:00 and 10:15 am services on November 4, 2018, at St. Martin's Church, Ellisville. MO.

Readings:
Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44


Notes and Images:
1) The Unbinding of Lazarus
2) Video from Youtube. Naomi Feil is one of the founders of Validation Training, a compassionate and empathetic method to use with patients suffering from dementia, Alzheimers, etc. She is the author of numerous books and articles, including The Validation Breakthrough.
3) Jesus singing with Lazarus, Mary and Martha.
4) Jesus weeping
5) Icon of the Souls of the Departed in the Hand of God.
6) The Empty Tomb
7) Giotto's depiction of Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus.

Prayer 2108: Observation of All Saints'/ All Souls Day

We ever abide under the loving gaze of the Almighty:
Lord, hear our prayers
whispered from beneath your wing.
You know the ache of our hearts, O Redeemer,
at the suffering of the world:
give us hearts overflowing with your compassion,
that we may bear your grace and mercy
into the darkest hour of grief
as well as the brightest dawn of hope.

Let us sing a song of the saints of God
by the testimony our lives give
in the eyes of the world.

May we ever be led by the example of the righteous,
those who humbly serve God and their neighbor;
who defend the oppressed and forgotten,
and advocate for the liberation of the poor;
who run toward the imperiled
and lay down their lives for others.

By the power of the Holy Spirit,
console and soothe the hearts of the mourning,
and grant your peace and relief
to all whose hope rests within your love,
O Merciful One.

Amen.

Prayer, day 2107

Most Merciful God,
we thank You for the protection of your holy angels
through the watches of the night.
O Comforter,
shelter and shield all those who are in distress,
and grant them strength and perseverance.
Enfold us like little children in your mercy, Lord Christ,
and forgive us our sins and offenses,
we humbly beseech you.
Make us gentle and faithful caretakers and friends, 
seeking to serve others as we serve You.
Grant us wisdom and patience, O Holy One,
that we may replace our hearts of stone
for hearts of tenderness and grace.
Guide us in pathways of peace,
and give us the humility and compassion to follow, we pray.
Send forth your Spirit of healing and comfort
over all who call upon You, O God,
especially those we now name.

Amen.

Prayer 2106- All Souls' Day

Merciful Creator,
by your hand all things come into being:
You, our Helper and our Protector,
are making the heavens and the Earth,
restoring and renewing our souls by your love.

Your tender compassion is as broad
as the canopy of stars set like jewels in filigree overhead
 even when the curtain of blue veils them,
nonetheless they remain,
singing your praise,
reminding us of your constant love for us, O God.

Holy One, we remember before You
all those gone from us,
secure in your embrace,
resting within the sheltering protection of the Almighty.
They see now clearly
what we see but dimly,
that eternal life begins now
 in living in communion with you and each other,
in celebrating the unity of all things within you, O God.

Lord, you clothe the wildflowers in splendor;
the humblest blossom contributes to the life of the world:
may we be steadfast in our service to You,
putting aside our anxieties
to breathe in your mercy and grace,
for You are our constant Companion and Protector,
our Shepherd and our Shield.

In trust, we lay our cares and concerns before You,
O Shekinah, Glorious Light,
and ask that your comfort envelop the hearts
of those for whom we pray.

Amen.


Photo: a flower pushes through a grave in the churchyard of the Cathedral of Michael and All Angels in Christchurch, Barbados.

Prayer, day 2105-- All Saints' Day

Almighty God, draw our hearts and souls to You, that we may praise and magnify your saving deeds in all the world. 

Holy One, we remember today the example of your saints who have entered into joy. 
We remember those whose lives have reminded us of what it means to imitate Jesus, what it means to be fully human. 

May we be inspired by the witness of our saints to dedicate ourselves anew to your gospel. 
May we stand for justice, 
walk in love, 
work for your kindom, 
embrace each other in peace, 
and in all things worship You. 

In the midst of a cloud of so many witnesses, make us a holy people, sanctified by the love we reflect from You, Lord Christ. 

Joining in their heavenly song, we remember before You those whose needs we carry in our hearts.

Amen.
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Prayer, day 2104

Our help is in the Lord God
who is making the heavens and the earth,
and calling us to turn from darkness
with steadfast love and compassion
for our waywardness.

Holy One, the ground shifts beneath our feet,
and we wonder,
will we fall or will we fly?
Yet your love bears us up,
and leads us in hope and light.

Give us the courage, O Savior,
to stand for right,
for the protection of the vulnerable,
and against the tyranny of fear
that is used to justify violence.

Give us the wisdom, O Spirit of Truth,
to hear Jesus's teaching
that fear begets fear
and the enemy of love is selfishness,
but the way of God
is generosity,
compassion,
and integrity.

O Merciful One,
pour the blessing of your peace
upon our turbulent hearts
that we may be reconciled and enlightened
to live as your children in word and deed.

Extend the shelter and balm of your grace, O Lord,
and relieve us in our trials and cares;
plant your peace in our hearts,
and comfort and heal those for whom we pray.

Amen.
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Prayer, day 2103

Most Merciful God,
we thank you for bringing us together this day:
anoint us with the power of your Spirit,
and fill us with your light,
that we may do the work you have given us to do
and walk in wisdom and grace.

Lord, strengthen us to persevere in faith and love,
led by your gospel to be resolute and unyielding
in resisting the forces of evil, terror, and carnage.

Almighty One,
make us bold to reclaim our power
to shape our communities
by the precepts of peace,
justice,
lovingkindness,
and virtue.

Led by your Word, O Creator,
let us work together for the common good,
creating the Beloved Community you have called us to be,
where all enjoy the blessings
of ease, contentment, and security.

Blessed Savior,
draw within your merciful embrace
all who weep and grieve this day,
and grant your healing to those
whose bodies, minds, or spirits have been wounded by violence.

Holy One,
stretch forth your hand that we may take it,
and draw within your protection all those for whom we pray.

Amen.
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Prayer, day 2102

God of Mercy,
we bow before You,
grateful for your abundant grace,
laying our cares at your feet in faith.

Holy One,
make us like green olive trees in the house of the Lord,
comforting those in need of shade and embrace,
nourishing those whose hearts hunger for compassion.

God of Justice,
make us steadfast in our willingness
to stand alongside our kindred in solidarity
against hate,
violence,
and prejudice in any form.
May we never be silent, O God,
in the face of injustice or exploitation,
but embody the Way of Love
and shield the vulnerable among us.

Blessed Redeemer,
we rest within your abiding compassion,
and ask your sheltering, healing hand
to be placed over those for whom we pray.

Amen.

Taking Heart: Sermon for Proper 25 B

Every day, for years, he had sat just outside Jericho, on the road that led to Jerusalem. It was a good spot for begging. Especially when pilgrims came by on their way to the Temple to offer a sacrifice. He could hear the coins jingling in their purses—surely they could spare a coin or two for a blind man—especially if their consciences were laying heavy upon them.

Besides, sitting there, he overheard the news in bits and snatches from all over Judea. For a blind man, he stayed pretty well informed. Another rebellion by the zealots had been brutally put down by the Roman legions last month, and even he knew to scurry away when he heard the rhythmic tramping footsteps of a legion passing by—they were more likely to aim a kick at a beggar than offer any alms.

But it had been a long time since he had heard a crowd that big going past, all at once. Their accents were northern—could it be that they knew of that holy man named Jesus he had heard tell of, the one who could even bring the dead back to life? He listened harder. Yes—he heard the name of Jesus several times. Two voices passed by, muttering about trying to get him alone to ask for places of honor again. Another three muttered that they were on their way to a certain death, and the fear and dismay in their voices was like a physical presence.

Bartimaeus heard a child exclaim, “I see him, Mama!” and quickly the beggar grabbed the child’s tunic for just a moment. “Is Jesus with you?” the beggar asked the child. “Yes!” the child exclaimed. “He’s come all the way from Galilee. We have followed him all this month.” The sound of a coin landed in Bartimaeus’s bowl.

“Bless you, child,” Bartimaeus murmured, and then he seized his opportunity. “Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!!!!” he wailed.

“Quiet, old man!” hissed several voices around him. “The teacher has no time for you.”

But Bartimaeus would not be deterred. “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And soon the sound of movement ceased. There was a whispered consultation off to the blind man’s right, and the sound of some disagreement. Then different voices loomed in the blind man’s ear: “Take heart, get up. He is calling you.”

Before the sentence was even complete, the blind man threw his cloak off his shoulders and hands guided him to where he just knew by some feeling that the teacher stood.

He wanted his sight. But more than that, he wanted to follow Jesus.

Even on his way to Jerusalem, human suffering encounters Jesus, and Jesus shows mercy and more than that, shows that he sees and loves us, as we grasp blindly toward faith.




In a way, we’ve seen much of this scene before. A few weeks ago, Jesus healed another blind man. And in our story today, just as with the little children, the disciples show themselves to still be world class bodyguards and “shushers,” telling Bartimaeus to be quiet. Nothing doing. Bartimaeus doubles down, probably getting louder and making even more of a commotion. And his determination pays off.

Who’s really blind here? And who is a true disciple of Jesus?

Those who have been with Jesus for weeks, months, and even years, STILL keep trying to get him to act in predictable ways, to put him in a neat little box. Yet here is this blind man, Bartimaeus. He confidently calls Jesus the “Son of David,” the longed-for Messiah. He confidently approaches the man he calls “My Teacher.”

What we see presented here is that Bartimeaus sees clearly who Jesus is and what his ministry means, even though he is a stranger, not a disciple, and is physically blind. Meanwhile, the disciples who have been alongside Jesus for these last 10 chapters have repeatedly shown themselves too afraid to see and recognize Jesus for who he is, much less accepting his predictions about his ultimate fate. 

There is also an ironic twist in the middle of the story: “… They called to the blind man, saying to him, ‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” This is more than just guidance to a blind man. Instead, this is the language of a call narrative, just as God called to Moses out of the burning bush. Just as the boy Samuel heard a call in the night that even Eli, the prophet, could not hear.

Jesus is not just calling the blind man to come to him for a conversation; Jesus is calling to the blind man and to all of us to follow him as disciples who recognize and proclaim the Son of God Incarnate. Three times in that verse the word “call” appears. This is significant. And Bartimaeus responds instantly.

Even though blind, he “springs up,” throwing off his cloak, and moves confidently, answering Jesus’s question with a bold declaration of Jesus as “My teacher….” The casting off of his cloak suggests the throwing off of his old life, the giving up of the possessions urged upon the rich man two weeks ago, and also has a faint echo of Elisha picking up the mantle of Elijah after Elijah is carried off bodily into heaven. A beggar’s cloak was their shelter, their blanket, their raincoat. Often it was all a beggar had. And Bartimaeus casts it aside like so much garbage in his eager faith to seize a new future, one of discipleship and hope.

For the second time in two weeks, we hear Jesus respond, “What do you want me to do for you?” Last week we had James and John asking for preferential treatment and honor; this week we see a humble beggar, who sees with his heart and soul what the disciples cannot see despite long experience, asking for his vision to be healed. THIS is an appropriate request, and it is made in faith, which Jesus acknowledges in his response: “Go; your faith has made you well.”

Yet, Bartimaeus doesn’t “go.” He stays, and follows Jesus rather than returning home. Without a long, drawn-out production, without even touch, Jesus pronounces the blind man healed. Bartimaeus then demonstrates his faith again when, as soon as his sight is restored, he “followed [Jesus] on the way.” The Way of Jesus. The Way of Life. The Way of Love.

Bartimaeus is shown to be the archetype of a disciple, proclaiming Jesus as Savior without fear, boldly, courageously, even in the face of possible rejection; one who hears the call, and asks only for what will make him a better disciple, so that he may follow in the way of Jesus.

The healing of Bartimaeus is the bookend to the previous healing of the unnamed blind man two chapters ago. The differences in the two healings of blind men between chapters 8 and 10 is symbolic, and descriptive of the arc of the story that lies in between. The first blind man’s healing involved two steps, which resulted in partial healing and then full healing. Then for two chapters, Jesus sets out toward Jerusalem, and Mark has repeatedly emphasized the disciples’ spiritual and metaphorical blindness. They recognize Jesus as a teacher, but repeatedly stumble in gaining full understanding, perhaps because he starts telling them things they don’t want to hear about his coming suffering and death, even as he marches resolutely onto Jerusalem.

The difference between the disciples and Bartimaeus is that Bartimaeus knows he needs to be healed of what stands in the way of his discipleship. And isn’t it that way with us, too? Bartimaeus has the faith that he CAN be healed. Bartimaeus has true courage—and remember, the word “courage” comes from the French word for “heart.” Bartimaeus casts off his old life like a cloak, and courageously embraces his agency as a disciple and as a beloved child of God.

Can we take heart, and be courageous like Bartimaeus?

Jesus’s reminder about the power of faith in our own transformation are important. He reminds us that as humans, we have choices whether or not we want to ask for healing. All of us at one time or another feel our faith flicker, because it’s common to believe that we need no one but ourselves, to fall in with society’s dictum that we alone are responsible for our situations, to deny the role of grace in our lives, even when that is also heartbreaking. And then some of us have no awareness that there is anything within us that requires healing, even as we long for it without understanding or words. 

What would it be like if we boldly responded to Jesus’s call to follow him in our own lives?

What if we believed in the power of faith against all cynicism, violence, oppression to heal the broken places within us, and within our world, that it could empower us to work real change?

How would our perception of the world change? How would our world, reeling from the mass murder in the synagogue yesterday, groaning under the cries of families fleeing torture and starvation and war, change?

Dare we go boldly toward a vision of the world in which true mercy and healing await our being brave enough and honest enough to admit that we both need it and want it? If we were willing to truly have faith enough in the healing power of love to help rid us of our fears and hatreds and suspicions, seeing everyone as they truly are—as beloved of God?

What if we ignored the voices that try to tell us we are too broken, the world too filled with jealousies and hatred, and instead embraced love, and the wholeness that faith and hope can bring?

What if we were brave enough to ask God to take away the blindness that preserves our illusions, that insulates and often entombs our hearts, and instead leaned into the faith that love, which is faith in action, really does heal?

May we have the faith to let Jesus in, to proclaim who he is boldly without fear; to open the eyes of our hearts; to have the courage of faith, the courage of love.

Take heart, get up.

He is calling you.



Amen.


Preached at the 505 on October 27, and the 8:00 and 10:15 Eucharists at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:
Job 42:1-6, 10-17
Psalm 34:1-8, 19-22
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 10:46-52