Believing and Seeing – which is first?

Believing.  Seeing.  Which comes first?  Do you need to see it to believe it… or does believing something enable you to see things more clearly?  We’re called to consider both.  Our doubting disciple (Thomas) says about the resurrection, “I’ll believe it when I see it”… Jesus does show him his wounds.  Then Jesus says to other (and to us), “blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” 

Sometimes we just don’t see what’s right in front of us.  It’s not because we’re physically blind, but because we’re pre-occupied with our own concerns, with what we want to pay attention to, with what experience has taught us to expect / to look out for.  We know this as tunnel vision, as selective seeing, etc..  It’s what causes to say, startled, ‘I didn’t see you there’, enables us to be ‘blind-sided’, or leads us to proclaim, ‘I didn’t see it coming.’

Sometimes, when we change our mind or think differently, we begin seeing things differently… noticing anew.  With new beliefs will sometimes come new behaviors.

We’re on the look-out for data/evidence to support our new perspective. When we get a bigger mind about something, we perceive patterns and connections that we hadn’t noticed before.  We might even begin acting contrary to what our circumstances or convention suggest because we believe we’re part of a something yet unseen or unrealized… and have hope or faith that what we’ve come to believe in will be shown to be true, despite the present predicaments.

The relationship between seeing and believing – between preconception and action – is very relevant to our relationship with the stories in our Holy Bible as well as our Christian discipleship.  Some prayerful reflection on the relationship between what is seen and what we believe is prudent as we observe where we’ve been as a community and envisions possibilities for our future ministry here in Christ’s name.

Now let’s engage our imaginations through an exercise inspired by Ignatianspirituality.  Putting ourselves into scriptural stories to see them from the inside from multiple perspectives is a wonderful way to feast on the Word and taste new things form stories that we’ve heard many times before.

As a little exercise, let’s consider different points of view in today’s Gospel lesson (Mark 10:46-52 – ‘blind Bartimaeus’).  We’re in the last major stop of Jesus’s tour of healing and teaching before he enters Jerusalem.  The section of Mark’s telling of the good news is bookended by stories of Jesus restoring sight to the blind – of helping people ‘see’ (Mark 8:22-10:52).  So, let’s consider ‘seeing’ anew.  How might changing our point of view help us to see things differently?

First, we’re in the crowd of followers, following this charismatic prophet / teacher / miracle worker who seems to have emerged out of a very unexpected place (ordinary, rural town).  This Jesus of Nazareth and his posse have come through our town (Jericho) and we’re crowding around them to see if we can catch a glimpse of him doing something to justify his reputation.   Further, perhaps some of us have come to believe, based on what we’ve heard about him, that he’s been ordained by God to lead a revolution against the Roman establishment and we want to get caught up in the zeal of this possibility.  We’re huddled around them, fascinated and curious.  From somewhere on the margins of the crowd we keep hearing an obnoxious voice crying out “Son of David, have mercy on me.”  Oh, great it’s that no-good panhandling beggar who’s always at the side of this road.  He ought to be ashamed of himself being such a nuisance.  He ought to be quiet – if he’d behave better, people might not be so put off by him and have a little more pity on his poor existence.  We certainly don’t want this potential messiah to believe that we tolerate this beggar’s obnoxious behavior.  “Be quiet!” we insist.  That is, until Jesus stops in the middle of the road.  What?!  Jesus has heard this particular beggar over the roar and rush of the crowd?!  He’s calling for the beggar?!  Some of us begin to suddenly change our tune.  Toward that no-good nobody that we were just trying to silence, we now suddenly smile and seem supportive – perhaps Jesus will notice us trying to help.  “Come here beggar.  Be happy.  He is calling for you.”

Mob mentality.  Following the crowd.  Circling the wagons to protect those on the inside from those on the outside.  Leaving behind, or leaving out, to fend for themselves those who we believe to be problematic or otherwise not worth our effort.

Yet, Jesus stopped the action and called our attention to that unlikely one – the one who has been begging his whole life.  The one who we’ve presumed must have done something wrong to have received such curses from God.

We’re seeing this.  Do we believe it?

Then, what must have this scene have looked like from the beggar’s perspective?  Blind, perhaps from birth, you’ve been marginalized by a society that doesn’t have the resources or concern to offer to special consideration or support.  There is no ‘Citizens of Jericho with Disabilities Act” that requires society to accommodate you or your needs.  Most people probably assume there’s something fundamentally wrong with you in the eyes of God to have suffered this fate.  In fact, even your family has abandoned you to beg by the roadside for your daily sustenance.  Thought you can’t see, your hearing is very acute and you’ve learned a lot by listening what others say.  Lately, you’ve been hearing a lot about this amazing Jesus from Nazareth who might be of royal lineage and seems to be fulfilling prophecies that you’ve heard about.  You’ve heard of miraculous healings taking place in his presence and how he has restored people to standing in their communities by offering special attention to them, even against prevailing prejudices.  What if he can do the same for you?  This might be your one shot.  You’re not going to let this pass you by.  You need his attention – you need Jesus to notice you.  You will not listen to the wannabe-in-crown telling you to be quiet.  You’re not to going to listen to those presuming to protect Jesus from the like of you – to those who you’ve heard belittling you and whispering things like “but for the grace of God there, go I” when they pass you on the street.  You believe that it’s entirely possible for this Jesus to heal redeem you, despite the prevailing pressure of the large crowd.  You are using all the strength left in your voice to cry out to this Jesus, Son of David, to have mercy on you – hoping for him to just nod in your direction, acknowledging your existence.  But he does so much more.  Jesus stops the action in the streets.  He turns and asks for you.  This is it!  You believe this will change your life.  So, you throw off your cloak – the quiet-literal ‘security’ blanket that has been your means of protection from the elements as well as your way of collecting coins thrown in your direction.  You don’t want anything to weigh you down at this point – you need to be totally exposed and available for even a brief touch from this healer.  Perhaps you even believe that won’t need that cloak anymore when Jesus is done with you.  And the moment has arrived, you’re face-to-face with Jesus and he asks, ‘What do you want me to do for you?” (pause – repeat)  It comes out of your mouth with conviction and all the hope you have left, “My teacher, let me see again.” (pause)  He has heard you and has sensed the intensity of your belief.  He says to you, ‘Go out!  Your faith has made you well, has saved you, and has rescued you.’  You can’t “go” away from this teacher.  He has just given you new sight, essentially a new life.  You can’t help but leave behind you old life – it’s dead to you now.  You will continue to follow Jesus on his way – both in terms of where he’s literally headed and in terms of ‘the way of life’ that he teaches.  You’re his now.

Carefully listening to and learning from what is said by those around you.  Humbly doing what you need to do in order to make ends meet.  Persisting toward a relationship with Christ, even when those who presume to protect Jesus tell you to sit down and be quiet.  Faithfully casting off what you believe has been keeping you safe in order to more fully encounter Christ.  Coming to ‘see’ truth and then deciding to continue following it, even if it means leaving behind your previous way of life.

What does the Spirit want us to see?

And finally, what about from Jesus’ perspective?  Look at all you’ve been through since your baptism (by your friend John, who has now been callously executed).  You’ve called simple people, from common walks of life, to be your followers and students.  You’ve demonstrated for them time and again your desire to heal and restore even those who are considered lost causes, untouchable, and sin-laden.  You’ve fed multitudes, exorcised demons (who seem to see you more clearly than anyone else around you), been transfigured on a mountain top with no less than Elijah and Moses, opened the ears of the deaf and at least once before given sight to the blind.  You’ve taught and you’ve even been explicit about your destiny and the destiny of those who choose to follow you. Yet, your motives and ministry has been constantly challenged by political and religious authorities who you know are now conspiring against you.  And, surrounding you are beloved, but thick-headed and short-sighted disciples who don’t seem to be getting the bigger picture – they’re so fixated on their preconceptions about restoration to earthly royalty and salvation through dominant power rather than seeing and seeking God’s mercy and grace through humble service in spiritual kingdom that is already at hand, if they’d choose to see it and believe in it.  These crowds!  They keep asking for things that are so short-sighted; yet I have compassion for them, each and all.  Look! There is one – one who despite circumstances is maintaining faith and hope; one who is not seeking status or security; one who is willing to surrender what little self-made security he has left in order to follow me.  All he asks is to ‘see.’  I’m going to tell him the same thing I told that hemorrhaging woman.  Let’s get him in here… let’s bring him on our way with us.  Perhaps his story, like hers, will help others ‘see’ my power working through faith, what salvation is really about, and how to follow me.

Now let’s consider seeing and believing about where we are today as a community.  I understand this is stewardship season and that Fr. Seville and the Stewardship Committee will be speaking with you soon about how your perceive your own wealth and to see anew opportunities for faithful giving your time, talent and financial resources.  Also, I’m told that this afternoon, the St. Paul’s family is invited to join in some story-telling and creation of a timeline of our history – looking back to notice where we’ve come from, see how we got here, and envision together what might be in the future. 

So, let’s consider three perspectives on where we find ourselves today, with Jesus here in our midst.  First, from the inside of this place looking out into the word.  Them, from out there looking back at the church.  And finally, from the point of view of person-to-person connections, face-to-face encounters with Christ.

Here in the St. Paul’s community, what are we used to seeing?  What has experience taught you to expect / to look out for?  Do we crowd around Jesus, more focused on preserving and protecting what we believe to be true than on turn our attentions inside-out and inviting in those who are still along the roadside, perhaps risking that their faith will challenge us to see and believe things differently in here?  What do we see as possibilities for our future in ministry here?  Are we being too short-sighted?  Are we blind to potential that Christ wants us to see?

What about those outside our church family – what do they see?  How do those not ‘in the crowd’ perceive us and our mission?  Seeing what we focus on, what continues to occupy our attention, where we invest our resources, what are they lead to believe that we’re really about in Christ’s name? 

And, in each of our lives?  Caught up in our sometime frantic lives, what are we too often turning a blind eye to?   What might we not be seeing that is right here in front of us as an opportunity with Jesus?  What cloaks ought we consider casting off in order to approach Jesus with more faithful vulnerability?  In what ways do you need Jesus to open your eyes to see more clearly?  If Jesus asks you, “What do you want me to do for you?” what would be your first answer?  What do you imagine Jesus wants to do for you?

As the Rolling Stones once sang, “you can’t always get what you want.  But if you try sometime, you just might find you get what you need.”

“Beggar God, you call us from the roadside to see ourselves in you: let us take heart and come to you, though your road leads to Calvary and absent sun, to love revealed for lightless eyes; through Jesus Christ, the image of the invisible God. Amen.”

(Shakespeare, Steven. Prayers for An Inclusive Church (NY: Church Publishing, 2009) p.74)      

Defaulting when we’re afraid vs. following the call with faith and hope

[sermon notes - incomplete]

[posted on Facebook this morning before arriving at St. Andrew’s, Emporia, KS] reflecting on self-centered ambitions and intentions rooted in fear and desperation -versus- promises of ultimate liberation and new life, following Christ with faith and hope and acting with charitable love (accepting that it initially involves suffering, surrendering, and letting go)

We’re walking with some of Jesus closest followers back toward Jerusalem, where we’ve been told pretty clearly several times that what lies ahead, at least initially, includes humiliation, suffering and death as we seek to heal, serve, and share as Jesus call us to do. Perhaps like those first followers, we too remain a little confused about, and fearful of, what following this messiah really means.

AND, there is hope of grace-filled liberation, just reconciliation and restitution, and resurrected peace in store as well, if we will faithfully continue this journey focusing less on our own status and more on the needs of our neighbors, humbly and lovingly serving each other as Jesus called us to do.

[comments on the assigned lectionary readings - interesting things to note; themes]

• Isaiah 53:4-12
• Psalm 91:9-16
• Hebrews 5:1-10
• Mark 10:35-45

[anecdotes and illustrations of how I’ve grappled with status, control, fear]


What is the Holy Spirit calling us to re-cognize about following Jesus? 

• Glory and honor in God’s eyes come through humble and charitable service, not ruling with earthly power or prestige 
• self-sacrifice not as mere ascetic self-denial, but in service to others and some greater good 
• Fear and the quest for security vs. courageous and faithful risk-taking with hope 
• be alert to our motivations and projections about cozying up to power and authority – 
• lobbying/jockeying for positions of privilege and authority 

[examples of how we see this around us when systems/communities are afraid, including the church (of its own decline)]

What are some very immediate, practical implications of this in our life together? 

• be cautious and self-reflective of our motives 
• also cautious about projecting unrealistic hopes (messiah complex) on our earthly leaders, who too often are flawed as we are in the self-serving ambition 
• watch and listen for signs that we’re acting out of fear rather than hope 
• Holding on to nostalgic (cleaned-up memories) of the past 
• Command-n-control compliance to tradition 
• Strong boundary setting and divisions of in/out 
• Hasty, quick certainty rather than messier, longer-term discernment 
• Perception of ambiguity and ‘process’ as threatening 
• be gentle and compassionate with each other, including those who don’t seem to get it 
• remind ourselves, in community that it can initially hurt when we let go and surrender… and that eventually, there’s new freedom and life beyond the present suffering 
• commit to being a community of discernment to keep each other in check

                  

“Suffering God, in whose name we seek glory for ourselves: cast down the idols that serve our fear and guilt, our need for blame, for punishment; direct our angry hearts to Him who bears our wounds where there is no more need to fight; through Jesus Christ, the true God and servant of all. Amen.”

(Shakespeare, Steven. Prayers for An Inclusive Church (NY: Church Publishing, 2009) p.73)      

What is permitted vs. what is expected/commanded

[unfinished sermon notes]

What is permitted (easier ways out) vs. what is expected (faithful perseverance and integrity in our relationships, even when they’re difficult or we suffer)

Good morning good people of St. Timothy’s, Iola.  [personal introduction and invitation to talk at coffee hour about campus ministry for Allen Community College]

In today’s assigned lectionary readings, particularly from Job and the Gospel according to Mark, we can hear the Holy Spirit challenging our the freedom of will of our ancestors and ours today around matters of endurance, long-suffering, sacrifice, and maintaining trust, faith, and integrity (wholeness) amid unfairness and unpleasantness.  We’re also hearing about legal rights versus Godly intentions and responsibility; how our salvation has come through God’s own subjugation and surrender to human suffering; and how we are to humble ourselves, acknowledging our dependence upon God’s mercy and grace, like the dependence of a child on a parent.

That’s a lot to take on in a short homily this morning.  We’re not going to get to it all.  But I do want to follow a few threads through the readings that reveal wisdom about how we are to be in relationship with God and each other.

Job 1:1, 2:1-10

This is the first of four Sundays (all Sundays this month) that you’ll be hearing from this book in the semicontinuous track of the Revised Common Lectionary.   On one level, Job is grappling with ‘why bad things happen to good people’ or the mystery of why evil and suffering are permitted to exist if God is all-loving and all-powerful.  A preacher could spend the next four Sundays focusing just on this perennial dilemma and still not have resolved this matter.  What I hear the Spirit offering us out of this morning’s readings from Job, that connects with the other appointed lessons this morning, is a challenging wisdom about enduring and persevering in our faith in God’s providence even when it seems to make no sense (E.g., Job knows he is innocent, yet is being caused to suffer horribly. Satan has been allowed to strip him of everything, children, servants, possessions, and health – and yet Job does not falter in commitment to God)… even when trusted others try to convince us that our faith is silly and/or unwarranted.  Stay tuned in the coming weeks for how Job’s story evolves and if there is any hope in the story. Who here can relate to the questions that Job’s story raises? 

Psalm 26

This morning’s Psalm goes right along with the set-up in Job.  We can imagine that the Psalmist is suffering injustice.  We’re hearing the prayer of one who is asking for God’s pity, merciful judgment, and redemption.  The psalmist is pleading, making the case using proclamations of innocence, about having lived with integrity, and about having avoided evil doers and evil works.  The verse that resonates most with me this morning is verse 2,  the bold invitation for God to “test me… and try me; examine my heart and mind.”  Who among us believes that our inner house is so clean, so spotless, that we dare invite God to come in for an inspection, believing that we’ll be found without any blame or guilt – sinless?  And, yet, that’s what the Psalmist seems to be doing.  If we acknowledge that we are unable to fully clean all the dirt from our own hands, how are we ever to have hope of being cleansed and purified enough to stand before God?  As we recite in our Eucharistic prayers, we’ve been reconciled and made worthy to stand before God through the death and resurrection of Christ. 

Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12

Indeed, that’s what we’re hearing through the letter to the Hebrews (which you’ll be hearing from for the next two months, up until the Feast of Christ the King, which is the Sunday before Advent).  Likely written to Christians who might have been wondering if it was worth continuing to hold on to their faith amid growing persecution and temptations of seemingly easier philosophies, Hebrews proclaims that Jesus, the “exact imprint of God’s very being” (1:3), came down from the heights of heaven, became one of us mortals, suffered as one of us, and sacrificed himself ultimately to death itself in order to fully purify us once and for all and proclaim anew that we are his “brothers and sisters” – a part of his beloved family that he will not forsake.  This notion that an all-powerful god, creator of all things, would surrender or subjugate itself to human suffering was, and still is, considered a scandalous and even silly notion.  And, yet, therein is good news about how much God cares for us and instruction about how we should care for each other.  Amid our own sin and suffering, we can look to Jesus to see the victory that is promised also to us through baptism with Christ.  As God’s beloved, we’ve been purified,  crowned with glory and honor… now how to we live up to that standard, seeing that divine standing in ourselves and each other, even when it’s really difficult or unpopular.

Mark 10:2-16

And this notion of living up to, into God’s expectations of us as beloved family members brings us to this morning’s provocative lessons from Mark regarding marriage, divorce, and receiving the kingdom of God as a little child.  Given statistics these days, we can assume that most of us in here have had some personal experience with the reality of divorce in our families.  Dissolution of marriages is not a new phenomenon – clearly the Romans and the Jews were grappling with it as well.  This morning, I won’t go down a rabbit hole of talking about the pain and trauma of divorce.  I won’t grapple with all the potential perspectives on the sin of ‘adultery.’  And, I won’t expound on the cultural and historical contexts of our evolving understandings of marriage as a civic contract. I believe the Holy Spirit is calling us beyond accusations, guilt, and shame through what our Lord has said in this morning’s lesson about the divine blessing and intentions of covenant relationships.

Let’s be clear that Jesus’s teaching in what we’ve heard this morning is tough love.  But, let’s not be misled into understanding His words as legalistic proclamations about rules.  That’s how the Pharisees, who were wise to legal loopholes and rationale for justifying various actions, were trying to trap him.  Jesus acknowledges that Mosaic law permits divorce and offers instructions about remarriage for those who have been married before. 

What Jesus wants his disciples and us to understand, however, is that God’s intention, since the creation of a companion for the first human, is that we be in perpetual loving relationship with each other and not to presume that by own will, we can dissolve what God has joined together. As I remember one commentator saying, “Divorce is grounded in law, but marriage is grounded in creation.” His lesson is not about our rights and what is legally permissible, but about God’s ultimate will for our relationships and our responsibilities therein. 

Jesus’s lesson is tough love.  Love tough enough to endure hardships and suffering in the trust and hope of longer-term, everlasting relationships.  This is not to say that we’re called to accept abuse or remain in harmful relationships at all costs.  This is to say that were it not for hardness in our own hearts, we would not find ourselves in unhealthy relationships.  And, were it not for the hardness in our own hearts, we would be able to reconcile differences that often lead to separation.

We have been created and designed for heavenly unity, constancy, and peace.  We’ve been gifted, through God’s grace, unreasonable freedom of choice in how we live and love.  However, we so often choose poorly and too frequently fail to acknowledge and confess our responsibility; repent (turn-around / change our direction); seek, grant, and accept forgiveness for the sake of the peace that our Lord offers and the love that Christ commands.

By way of two quick anecdotes, I’d like to further highlight this matter of our freedom and our responsibility in our marital relationships...

[ANECODTES: The Rev. Hartshorn Murphy’s sermon at the marriage of his own son… the type of love that is required for marriage to endure – agape/caritas (self-sacrificial, charitable love).  Advice I was given by a married couple about what is necessary for the marriage to endure – both feeling as if they’re giving a little more than they’re receiving]

Taking a bigger look at what we’re hearing from the Spirit this morning, this is about more than the relationship between two individuals in marriage.  Matrimonial language becomes a metaphor, a symbol, of God’s relationship to us and a design for faithful relationships of all forms – between married couples, between family and friends, and between communities and God, Christ and his church… (E.g., lover, bride, bridegroom, etc.).

Our relationships, our marriages, our church – they’re all experiences of the depths of God’s unreasonable love and the mystery of enduring relationships despite hardships and traumas that would otherwise separate us.

DISCUSSION: What do you hear the Spirit saying to God’s people about the nature of faithfulness in God’s relationship to us, our relationship to God, and our relationships with each other?  How might we approach and discern our commitments to each other if divorce were not an option?

[if there’s time] Regarding receiving the kingdom of God as a little child… he’s not saying that the kingdom is about the pure and innocent, rather the kingdom is to be welcomed with vulnerability and dependence of God, like a child is dependent on a parent.  The kingdom belongs to those who have nothing to contribute, no other standing, other than faith in God’s mercy and redemptive love.

“God of the living law, whose will is to protect the weak and educate our desires: may we learn from you not to dominate or put aside but to give each other dignity and find in you our unity; through Jesus Christ, who makes us one household. Amen.”

(Shakespeare, Steven. Prayers for An Inclusive Church (NY: Church Publishing, 2009) p.72)