Mark 10:46-52
And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.
It is rare in the Gospels, especially in Mark, for the name of one of bit-players to be given. Just think of all the stories of Jesus' miracles we have. What do we call those healed: The man born blind, the woman with the flow of blood, the widow of Nain's son, the Canaanite woman's daughter, the Centurion's servant. They are nameless in the account, so we identify them however we can, by their condition, by a relationship. But here, in Jericho, we meet an exception, Blind Bartimeus.
This short little story is unique and important for several reasons. It's the last miracle recorded in Mark, it's the last story before the Passion. We see Jesus declared "Son of David", we hear the beautiful words "Your faith has made you well." But to me this story has always stood out, simply because its gives the man's name, Bartimeus.
It is hard to say why Mark decided to record this miracle-recipient's name when he had neglected to do so so many times before. For some reason, this man stands out. It's not good preaching to try to read the original author's thoughts beyond what the text says, so I'm not going to guess why Bartimeus was special to Mark. I can tell you why he stands out to me, why, if I were writing this story, I might have made note of this particular man's name.
It's not that he came to Jesus to be healed, many did that. It's not that he demonstrated great faith, many did that. It could be because he cried out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." That is the quintessential prayer, isn't it? It's really what all of our prayers boil down to. But there's something even more to Bartimeus. I like the way that he leaps up, leaving his cloak, running (stumbling I'm sure) to Jesus. But that's not it either. You see, he had great faith which caused him to respond to Jesus with humility and enthusiasm, he was healed, and then he did the truly remarkable thing: "He followed him on the way."
For this reason he stands out in stark contrast to the other's around Jesus. We just read about the Rich Young Ruler, who "lacked one thing" but turned from Jesus. Then we read about the disciples who, indeed follow Jesus, but they were also jockeying for position and arguing over status.
Bartimeus has nothing, and asks only for his sight, really not an unreasonable request, and upon receiving it, he uses it for one purpose: to follow Jesus.
And it's not just to anywhere that Bartimeus is following Jesus. This story mark's the end of Jesus' life as an itinerant preacher and healer. The very next words in the text are "Now when they drew near to Jerusalem..." Bartimeus follows Jesus directly into the Passion.
That's what makes him so special, because he does what we're all called to do: Have faith, cry out for mercy, leap up at Jesus' call, leave all we have behind us, receive Jesus' healing, and follow him on the way which leads to Calvary.
As we embark once again, to relive our Lord's passion, let us remember Blind Bartimeus, and seek to be like him. Let us pray that this week, we, like him, will receive new sight, and use it only to follow Jesus along the way.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Friday, the Fifth Week of Lent
2 Corinthians 4:1-12
But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.
There are certain passages in the Bible that preach themselves, and this is one of them. It is such a meaninful passage to so many Christians because it speaks so eloquently and directly into the Christian experience. We as Christians are indeed earthen vessels, clay jars, in which is stored an unfathomable treasure. For all the grace of God, and love of Christ and power of the Holy Spirit that dwells within us we are still so weak, still so paralyzed by fears, still so wracked by sin, still so prone to stray. Yet, God still uses us to achieve his wonderful work of redeeming the world through his Son.
Now, I suppose God could solve all our problems. He could make us perfect in strength, and courage and righteousness and faithfulness. He could by his Spirit transform us in the blink of an eye, but he doesn't and that is by design. He stores his treasure in clay jars, to show that the power is his and not ours. What kind of witness to the world would we be if we had no struggles with life and self and sin? It is the very fact that in the midst of struggle, terrible struggle, struggle even unto death, that we remain faithful even in the feeble way that we do, which lets the power of God shine forth to those around us and declares his glory to them. Perhaps that is why God chooses stutterers (Moses), youngest brothers (David), little girls (Mary), and former persecutors (Paul) to serve him in the way that he does. How could any one believe that these people could do what they did for God, unless God was in it, unless the power was Gods?
God chooses clay pots, and sometimes cracked ones, to serve him. He chooses you and me to serve him without requiring us to be anything more than a willing vessel. We provide the clay, he provides the power.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.
There are certain passages in the Bible that preach themselves, and this is one of them. It is such a meaninful passage to so many Christians because it speaks so eloquently and directly into the Christian experience. We as Christians are indeed earthen vessels, clay jars, in which is stored an unfathomable treasure. For all the grace of God, and love of Christ and power of the Holy Spirit that dwells within us we are still so weak, still so paralyzed by fears, still so wracked by sin, still so prone to stray. Yet, God still uses us to achieve his wonderful work of redeeming the world through his Son.
Now, I suppose God could solve all our problems. He could make us perfect in strength, and courage and righteousness and faithfulness. He could by his Spirit transform us in the blink of an eye, but he doesn't and that is by design. He stores his treasure in clay jars, to show that the power is his and not ours. What kind of witness to the world would we be if we had no struggles with life and self and sin? It is the very fact that in the midst of struggle, terrible struggle, struggle even unto death, that we remain faithful even in the feeble way that we do, which lets the power of God shine forth to those around us and declares his glory to them. Perhaps that is why God chooses stutterers (Moses), youngest brothers (David), little girls (Mary), and former persecutors (Paul) to serve him in the way that he does. How could any one believe that these people could do what they did for God, unless God was in it, unless the power was Gods?
God chooses clay pots, and sometimes cracked ones, to serve him. He chooses you and me to serve him without requiring us to be anything more than a willing vessel. We provide the clay, he provides the power.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Thursday, the Fifth Week of Lent
Exodus 7:25-8:19
2 Corinthians 3:7-18
Mark 10:17-31
But when Pharaoh saw that there was a respite, he hardened his heart and would not listen to them, as the LORD had said.
The Daily Lectionary is generally not designed to be thematic. That is, the readings aren't really arranged to make sense together, but just to guide our reading through the Old Testament, Epistles and Gospels. But God's written word is amazing and so rich that sometimes common threads can be found. Today, we meet in the readings three different hard-hearted people. Now, this is not exactly a surprise, hard-heartedness is a major theme in the Bible, simply because this particular cardiac condition is universal to human beings.
First we meet Pharaoh, the Bible's poster-child for hard-heartedness. It seems towards the middle of the reading, that perhaps the frogs had just gotten to ol' Pharaoh. Frogs in your bed and frogs in your food could cause even the toughest nut to crack. So, he calls Moses and tells him to get rid of the frogs and Moses, who is at this point showing off, asks "and what time would you like the frogs to go?" But when the frogs all die precisely when Pharaoh requested, he wasn't impressed. The trouble was over, ease had returned, he no longer saw a need to pay any attention to Moses.
"He hardened his heart, and would not listen to them." Twice we read that today. It tolls like a bell at the end of the plagues marking Pharaoh's decent deeper into his sin. It's Pharaoh catch phrase. "He hardened his heart, and would not listen to them." I think we find there the essence of what it means to have a hard heart. It means shutting yourself off, retreating into your pride and refusing to hear any message that contradicts what you want and what you supposedly need. The interesting thing is, it's not even just Moses and his God that Pharaoh is shutting out. Look closely at the Plague of the Gnats. It's his own magicians that he's refusing to listen to there. Pharaoh has decided that it is his way or the highway, and no one, not his enemies or his friends, not even the Most High God, can dissuade him otherwise. Now, we look to Pharaoh as sort of an arch-villain, the great hard-of-heart, but really he's not so exceptional, rather he's emblematic, an example of what all human beings are really like when they are shut off from God.
In Paul's second letter to Corinth, we read about a hard-minded people of Israel who also refuse to listen. They read Moses with a veil over their hearts, refusing to hear the words of Scriptures for what they really are. Again, we could just chalk up what Paul writes to Israel's perennial stubbornness, but just like Pharaoh they are not unique. We all go through life veiled to God's truth, refusing to hear what he has to say, because what he has to say is to much for us, it shakes our world to much. We, like Israel at the foot of Mt. Sinai, refuse to hear God's voice out of our fear.
But, we have Christ, who removes the veil.
Why then, do we still struggle with hardness of heart if we have met the one who removes the veil, who allows us to listen? Well, it's because even then, even after we encounter Jesus, we can still clutch the veil, still cherish our hard hearts, because that's where we are safe, where our assumptions and securities are not challenged. In the Gospel today, we read the familiar story of the Rich Young Ruler. Imagine coming to Jesus and hearing him say "You lack one thing." One thing! There was only one thing between the young man and God. Unfortunately, it was the one thing upon which his whole life, his whole identity was built. It was the one thing that he could not imagine living without, and so his heart was hardened and he turned away. For the Rich Young Ruler, to give up his wealth was to give up himself. Which is truly the one thing that is between all of us and God, the one thing we all need to give up, our selves. It's also the one thing that our hearts harden around.
What then is the solution, how do we get over our heart-hardness, so that we can give up that one thing, so the veil will be removed and we can behold the glory of Lord and be transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another? We cannot do it without God. With man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible.
And the truly amazing thing is that God actually desires to give us new hearts, new hearts that love him. Through the prophet Ezekiel God says to his people, to us: "And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:26) We need only come to him with the willingness to give up our "one thing" and he does the rest.
2 Corinthians 3:7-18
Mark 10:17-31
But when Pharaoh saw that there was a respite, he hardened his heart and would not listen to them, as the LORD had said.
The Daily Lectionary is generally not designed to be thematic. That is, the readings aren't really arranged to make sense together, but just to guide our reading through the Old Testament, Epistles and Gospels. But God's written word is amazing and so rich that sometimes common threads can be found. Today, we meet in the readings three different hard-hearted people. Now, this is not exactly a surprise, hard-heartedness is a major theme in the Bible, simply because this particular cardiac condition is universal to human beings.
First we meet Pharaoh, the Bible's poster-child for hard-heartedness. It seems towards the middle of the reading, that perhaps the frogs had just gotten to ol' Pharaoh. Frogs in your bed and frogs in your food could cause even the toughest nut to crack. So, he calls Moses and tells him to get rid of the frogs and Moses, who is at this point showing off, asks "and what time would you like the frogs to go?" But when the frogs all die precisely when Pharaoh requested, he wasn't impressed. The trouble was over, ease had returned, he no longer saw a need to pay any attention to Moses.
"He hardened his heart, and would not listen to them." Twice we read that today. It tolls like a bell at the end of the plagues marking Pharaoh's decent deeper into his sin. It's Pharaoh catch phrase. "He hardened his heart, and would not listen to them." I think we find there the essence of what it means to have a hard heart. It means shutting yourself off, retreating into your pride and refusing to hear any message that contradicts what you want and what you supposedly need. The interesting thing is, it's not even just Moses and his God that Pharaoh is shutting out. Look closely at the Plague of the Gnats. It's his own magicians that he's refusing to listen to there. Pharaoh has decided that it is his way or the highway, and no one, not his enemies or his friends, not even the Most High God, can dissuade him otherwise. Now, we look to Pharaoh as sort of an arch-villain, the great hard-of-heart, but really he's not so exceptional, rather he's emblematic, an example of what all human beings are really like when they are shut off from God.
In Paul's second letter to Corinth, we read about a hard-minded people of Israel who also refuse to listen. They read Moses with a veil over their hearts, refusing to hear the words of Scriptures for what they really are. Again, we could just chalk up what Paul writes to Israel's perennial stubbornness, but just like Pharaoh they are not unique. We all go through life veiled to God's truth, refusing to hear what he has to say, because what he has to say is to much for us, it shakes our world to much. We, like Israel at the foot of Mt. Sinai, refuse to hear God's voice out of our fear.
But, we have Christ, who removes the veil.
Why then, do we still struggle with hardness of heart if we have met the one who removes the veil, who allows us to listen? Well, it's because even then, even after we encounter Jesus, we can still clutch the veil, still cherish our hard hearts, because that's where we are safe, where our assumptions and securities are not challenged. In the Gospel today, we read the familiar story of the Rich Young Ruler. Imagine coming to Jesus and hearing him say "You lack one thing." One thing! There was only one thing between the young man and God. Unfortunately, it was the one thing upon which his whole life, his whole identity was built. It was the one thing that he could not imagine living without, and so his heart was hardened and he turned away. For the Rich Young Ruler, to give up his wealth was to give up himself. Which is truly the one thing that is between all of us and God, the one thing we all need to give up, our selves. It's also the one thing that our hearts harden around.
What then is the solution, how do we get over our heart-hardness, so that we can give up that one thing, so the veil will be removed and we can behold the glory of Lord and be transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another? We cannot do it without God. With man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible.
And the truly amazing thing is that God actually desires to give us new hearts, new hearts that love him. Through the prophet Ezekiel God says to his people, to us: "And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." (Ezekiel 36:26) We need only come to him with the willingness to give up our "one thing" and he does the rest.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Wednesday, the Fifth Week of Lent
Mark 10:1-16
It’s an image that seems to hang on the wall of just about every Sunday School classroom, Jesus blessing the children. In all the charm and quaintness of the story though, I think we sometimes miss the power of Jesus’ words: “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”
What is it though, that makes the child particularly worthy of the kingdom of God? We could talk about their innocence, trust, joy and simplicity. But that’s not what I think Jesus is getting at, especially since such an approach could lead to a work righteousness of being childlike. There is something more fundamental to childlikeness to which Jesus refers which actually opposes the idea that there is any way to earn our way into the kingdom. Children are by their very nature, needy, helpless beings. Look at the children in today’s reading. They are being brought to Jesus; they don’t even come under their own power. We receive the kingdom like a child when we receive it like one who is helplessly in need of the kingdom.
Isn’t that really what our Lenten devotion is about, recognizing our neediness and utter dependence on God. It was just a few weeks ago that we were all reminded that we are but dust, and, left to our own devices have no hope but to return to dust. That’s certainly neediness! In the coming weeks as we relive the lengths to which our Lord went to redeem His helpless people of dust may we all gain a fresh sense of our childlike need for God and draw even closer to Him who desires to take us in His arms and bless us, His little children.
Jesus, Friend of little children, Be a friend to me; Take my hand, and ever keep me close to Thee. Never leave me, nor forsake me; Ever be my friend; For I need Thee, from life’s dawning To its end.
(“Jesus, Friend of little children” by Waltar Mathams)
(“Jesus, Friend of little children” by Waltar Mathams)
[originally written for Trinity School for Ministry Lenten Devotional]
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Tuesday, the Fifth Week of Lent
I Corinthians 14:20-40
For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.
Now, what St. Paul is writing about here is worship. He's chastising the Corinthians for having wildly disorganized worship services. Without structure their gatherings have become mere disorder in which they all seem to be jockeying for position and prominence, each wanting their own hymn, their own tongue, their own bit of prophesy to be heard. For an Anglican the implications of this passage should thrill the heart. "All things should be done decently and in order" should cause us all to give a rousing "Amen!" as we reach for our prayer books.
It is in that context that Paul writes, "for God is not a God of confusion but of peace." Yet, even though I risk taking his words out of that context, I can't escape mining them for deeper meaning.
We live in an age of confusion; everything is confusing. Things that were once foundational to life, to existence itself, things which seemed unshakable, are now open to question and critique or even dismissed out-of-hand as antiquated and offensive. Family, marriage, the sanctity of life, the value of sacrifice, truth, God.
It is a world that is, in a certain way, much like the raucous Corinthian church. Everyone has a voice to be heard, an idea, an agenda, a truth, a prophesy, a vision and each demands that they be given equal validity to all others. And to refuse to value each equally is to be backward, close-minded, bigoted. How can all this be sorted out? Where does one find a place to stand when everything overwhelms? The answer, of course, is God, who is not a God of confusion but of peace. The confusion of our world is not from God, in fact, it is opposed to Him. Chaos has been His enemy since the beginning. In Him, we can stand against the confusion and chaos of our culture. God is a God of peace. We find Him in peace, and we find peace in Him. Peace is what He offers us in the midst of our confused world, and as his people, peace is precisely what we have to offer to our confused world.
So, among all the confused voices vying for our attention, what we must be about daily, and especially in Lent, is seeking God's peace, His calm. His peace overcomes even the most seemingly insurmountable confusion in our world, and indeed in our own lives. My hope is that this little effort will be blessed by God and through it He will speak to us some small measure of his peace.
The peace of the Lord, be always with you.
For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.
Now, what St. Paul is writing about here is worship. He's chastising the Corinthians for having wildly disorganized worship services. Without structure their gatherings have become mere disorder in which they all seem to be jockeying for position and prominence, each wanting their own hymn, their own tongue, their own bit of prophesy to be heard. For an Anglican the implications of this passage should thrill the heart. "All things should be done decently and in order" should cause us all to give a rousing "Amen!" as we reach for our prayer books.
It is in that context that Paul writes, "for God is not a God of confusion but of peace." Yet, even though I risk taking his words out of that context, I can't escape mining them for deeper meaning.
We live in an age of confusion; everything is confusing. Things that were once foundational to life, to existence itself, things which seemed unshakable, are now open to question and critique or even dismissed out-of-hand as antiquated and offensive. Family, marriage, the sanctity of life, the value of sacrifice, truth, God.
It is a world that is, in a certain way, much like the raucous Corinthian church. Everyone has a voice to be heard, an idea, an agenda, a truth, a prophesy, a vision and each demands that they be given equal validity to all others. And to refuse to value each equally is to be backward, close-minded, bigoted. How can all this be sorted out? Where does one find a place to stand when everything overwhelms? The answer, of course, is God, who is not a God of confusion but of peace. The confusion of our world is not from God, in fact, it is opposed to Him. Chaos has been His enemy since the beginning. In Him, we can stand against the confusion and chaos of our culture. God is a God of peace. We find Him in peace, and we find peace in Him. Peace is what He offers us in the midst of our confused world, and as his people, peace is precisely what we have to offer to our confused world.
So, among all the confused voices vying for our attention, what we must be about daily, and especially in Lent, is seeking God's peace, His calm. His peace overcomes even the most seemingly insurmountable confusion in our world, and indeed in our own lives. My hope is that this little effort will be blessed by God and through it He will speak to us some small measure of his peace.
The peace of the Lord, be always with you.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Feast of the Annuciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary
It is a good day for beginnings.
Today the church marks the Feast of the Annunciation, the day when God first took on flesh and dwelt among us. Today is the day when God, the great creator of the universe, the one who divided day from night, heaven from earth, land from sea, poured his divinity into a few dividing cells, the weakest and most helpless of all weak and helpless humanity, utterly dependent on the faith and love and hospitality of a little girl. It was the beginning of the great new phase of God’s dealings with humanity promised so long ago in the garden. This is the day when God came to the very woman whose seed would crush the head of the serpent.
Yet, all of this, all of this new and monumental beginning, hangs on one moment, the moment of decision for Mary. You see, the thing about new beginnings, is that they always come on the heels of endings. The encounter with the Archangel, marks, for better or worse, the end of Mary’s life as she knew it. As soon as the message has been delivered she must decide to accept or reject it, but whatever she does, she cannot just keep on living like she always had. On this day, Mary met what is the quintessential Christian experience. Each of us comes to that moment when we must either accept or reject Christ’s entry into our lives, our very beings. The thing is, if we do, in that moment, decide to accept, it only means that we will spend our lives meeting similar points of decision. Mary did. What do you think it was that she was always pondering in her heart? I’m sure it was the daily Christian decision to maintain faithfulness and obedience, the daily decision to take God’s path even though it means leaving our own. We might call that losing one’s life in order to save it. We might call it bearing one’s cross and following Christ.
Today is the day when the first such decision was made by the first follower of Christ, when the first life was lost in order to be saved, when the first cross was taken up. Today is a good day for beginnings.
And so I begin this work, wherever it may lead. I have just reached myself, a moment like Mary’s, in which the path I was on abruptly ended and I had to decide to accept God’s message or reject it. There was no option to simply ignore it and go on, there never is. The path must change. I suspect the end goal remains the same, but only if I now accept God’s message. I am not without fear, I am not without confusion, I am not with doubt, I am not without disappointment, I am not even without anger but I know that I am also not without God. I know that the same Spirit, who overshadowed the one full of grace, fills me as well. I know that the same God that was with her is with me, the same Emmanuel. And so I pray that with her I might also be able to utter in tones pained but powerful, those life changing, world changing words, those words which cry in defiance against all the voices of the world, flesh and devil which shout “Injustice!” and “Insult!”and seek to get me to force my own way, those words which the Mother of Christians first uttered today, and which so many of her children have uttered so many times since.
“Behold, the servant of the Lord, be it unto me according to thy word.”
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