October 29, 2006
(Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 25)

20/20 Healing

By The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean

Isaiah 59:(1-4)9-19  •  Psalm 13  •  Hebrews 5:12-6:1,9-12  •  Mark 10:46-52
(From The Lectionary Page)

It’s the time of year to visit one’s favorite pumpkin patch, be it a nearby farm or your local Hy-Vee Food Store. A few years ago Linda Sue and the kids and I set out on our annual pilgrimage to our favorite Pumpkin Patch on a warm and breezy and sunny day with not a cloud in the sky. I especially remember the visit that year because earlier that morning I had had my six-month eye exam, and my pupils were still dilated, so the bright sunshine meant that I had to wear sunglasses.

But this in turn presented a problem. One does not pick out the most sincere pumpkin for converting into the perfect jack-o-lantern while wearing sunglasses. So, I removed my sunglasses in order to pick out a pumpkin.

Now, with normal eyesight it is tough enough looking at a vast sea of pumpkins, but with dilated pupils causing me to see double, it looked like a million pumpkins were marching towards me. In mock distress I cried to the kids, "Make them stop. Make the pumpkins go away!"

It so happened that the girls of Brownie Troop 115 were walking by at the time and looked at me with disbelief, and looked at my kids with pity. Because by all appearances, there was no reason why I should not be able to see correctly.

Plenty of people in the Church as well as people beyond the Church's doors are asking: Is there something wrong with the Church's sight? Are they (or we) seeing things correctly? These questions are asked when the Body of Christ speaks and acts as if we don’t see life the way God sees life, or simply fails to speak or act.

There is much to learn from St. Mark’s account of the healing of blind Bartimaeus.

"According to Mark's gospel, Jesus is taking his last journey south from Galilee to Jerusalem, timed to arrive just before Passover. The caravan is traveling along the Jordan River valley road. Having just left the fertile Galilee region, the travelers will have plenty of supplies, especially food. If you are a beggar, you know that chances are good that freshly rested, well-stocked religious pilgrims will most likely may be generous in sharing some food and money. Thus there are plenty of beggars along this road near Jericho.

"But Bartimaeus has an edge on the rest of the beggars, because he knows that Jesus is traveling in the caravan. This young rabbi can heal, some say. So Bartimaeus does not ask for a day's supply of food - he cries for help: Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me. Not once, but twice he cries, Son of David, have mercy on me!

" ‘And Jesus stood still,’ Mark writes." God stood still. "Our Lord calls for Bartimaeus to come to him, and maybe the very people who a minute ago had told the beggar to be quiet, now encourage him on saying, Take heart; get up, he is calling you." [Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Among Us, Yr B vol 3, pp. 139-140.]

Still blind is Bartimaeus, but he sees more than all the beggars with good eyesight. He sees the Savior, the Messiah. He sees that God, with mercy, heals through Jesus.

Mark emphasizes two small details: Bartimaeus threw off his cloak and sprang up. Herbert O'Driscoll pleads: "I want to know why Bartimaeus did this. Sheer exuberance and excitement? Maybe. Was it, at some unconscious level, a realization that things were never going to be the same again and that the past years of frustration were about to be thrown off like a cloak?" [Ibid.]

"Jesus seems to admire this man who despite his physical challenges is so intensely alive that he springs up, and so Jesus inquires of the beggar: ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ ” [Ibid.]

Bartimaeus is respectful but direct: My Teacher, let me see again. (Evidently he was not always blind.) The response of Jesus is immediate -- he heals. The response of Bartimaeus is immediate -- he follows where his healer goes.

Healing is very much in the news. On November 7, Missouri voters consider Amendment 2 which would protect embryonic and adult stem cell research as allowed and restricted by federal law.

Over the last two days, delegates to our diocesan Convention learned some of the basic facts about stem cell research, about the proposed Amendment 2, about a resolution of the 2003 General Convention supporting stem cell research with certain restrictions, and what it would mean for our religious community to speak out on this issue and specifically to speak to this amendment.

Yesterday, convention passed the following:

Resolved, the 117th Convention of the Episcopal Diocese of West Missouri…affirms the value of stem cell research, both embryonic and adult, and resolved, it is the opinion of this Convention that such stem cell research is consistent with the theological teachings and moral practices of the Episcopal Church.

This resolution was a substitute removing language from the original resolution referring to Amendment 2. As you may know I was one of three priests who authored the original resolution and addressed convention asking that the language be restored. My lunch yesterday included humble pie as the language was not restored.

Emerging out of the debate were concerns about the ethics of stem cell research, the possibility of healing, opinions about when life begins, and the role of the Church on such a political charged issue. In very real ways, these questions were all about the sight of the Church, the common vision of the Body of Christ. Laity and clergy together learned, discussed, debated, at times disagreed, and came to a common mind. The bishop did not impose his views. Strongly held views fell far short of demonizing others, and speaking as one whose vision did not carry the day, I did not feel at all marginalized.

In short, I think the Church’s vision was rather good yesterday. In fact, the Church of West Missouri gathered in Council may have healed my some of my blindness and corrected my vision.

In these last days before the election, partisanship is dividing citizens. Half-truths and outright falsehoods about candidates and amendments are hurled about so cavalierly it makes one weep. It is inevitable that all this infects much of our common life to some degree. To be sure, the Church takes a back seat to no other institution when it comes to divisive behavior. But today I am proud to be an Episcopalian and proud to belong to our Diocese. Yesterday differing viewpoints were heard, and I believe truly understood by most. People were respected, debate was lively, and following the vote, no demonstration of “we won and you lost” took place.

At times our culture wonders why the Church doesn't always see things and seemingly chooses to live with blindness. We often ask ourselves that question. According to today’s Gospel, we must follow Bartimaeus and make his bold requests our own: Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on us. . . . Teacher, we want to see again.

Blindness today takes many forms. "Perhaps we don't see anymore how much someone loves us, or we don't see how lovely someone really is. Maybe we cannot see possibilities in our own lives that others see. Maybe we have lost the ability to see the beauty and worth of Christian faith, or we no longer see the community around us as a place filled with God's gifts. Maybe we don't see God as love. There are many reasons why we may need some measure of sight restored to us.” [Ibid.]

My sisters and brothers: "Each of us has stuff we need to get rid of -- a beggar’s cloak we must throw off. Then, like Bartimaeus we must spring up and run to Jesus. Then Our Lord can deal with the blindness that afflicts us and diminishes our capacity for living." Each day Christ travels the road with us, and while we are used to asking for our daily bread – begs for just a little -- we must humbly ask for more: to see again. "Faith makes us well - faith to follow Jesus, faith in our selves, faith in other people, faith in the Church, faith in life itself." [Ibid.]

Perhaps before we can follow Jesus, we need to follow Bartimaeus. In this case, the blind leading the blind leads to sight and to God.

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Vision Restored

by The Rev. Carol Sanford, Curate

First, I’d like to give you a quick update on our Diocesan Convention, which concluded yesterday. Specifically, I want to make you aware that the proposition supporting stem cell research, submitted by Dean White and two other priests, was approved in an amended form. After spirited but respectful debate, the assembled clergy and lay delegates came to a consensus on this very controversial issue. As Dean White said this morning, we can be proud of our church in how we work together. And I will add that we can be proud of our Dean for stepping forward and bringing this difficult issue forward for public discussion at our Convention.

The news is filled with controversies around religion and medicine, as well as religion and government, and religion and education. But this evening, I’m thinking about religion and the funnies. Have you ever noticed how often there are biblical references on the comic pages? Holy Scripture seeps into popular culture in surprising ways.

The opening line of tonight’s Psalm immediately brought to mind an old Peanuts cartoon. As many of you know, Charlie Brown and Lucy are main characters in Peanuts. Every year during the autumn football season, Lucy holds a football for Charlie Brown so that he can practice kicking it. Every year Charlie Brown reconsiders whether or not he can trust Lucy to keep the football steady. Every year he decides to do so, and every year, at the last moment, Lucy pulls the football away so that he loses his balance and comes crashing to the ground. I’m pretty sure that I remember one year when Charlie Brown, having crashed one more time, looked up to the sky and said, “How long, O Lord, how long?”

Even in the funny papers, hearing scripture involves interpretation, and for years I understood Charlie Brown’s lament as the cry of a hapless victim. But one year I finally grew frustrated, not with Lucy the evil genius, but with Charlie Brown, showing up one more time to be fooled.

Make no mistake: there are very real victims in the world. There are victims of greed and selfishness, victims of ignorance and error. There are victims of individuals and of institutions; victims of family systems and of government policies and of religious attitudes. There are victims of illness and accident, and victims of evil intent. But not all of those in pain are victims, and even those whose pain is inflicted upon them have a very present hope. The key, of course, is to place our hope rightly.

The blind beggar Bartimaeus in our gospel is persistent in his hope. It’s an easy scene to imagine. Jesus and the disciples are on their way out of Jericho in the midst of a large crowd on the road to Jerusalem. We might imagine that people are talking and laughing as they walk along, many of them excited and inspired by this surprising teacher in their midst. Suddenly, a beggar by the side of the road begins shouting out for attention from Jesus. We can presume that Bartimaeus is dusty and dirty, and we know by the reaction to him that he is disruptive and presumptuous.

Let’s stop for a moment and picture this in modern terms. Let’s say a politician has just concluded a successful rally over at Barney Allis Plaza, and that he and his supporters are making their way down Broadway to another rally in the Crossroads District. Crowds are cheering, bands are playing, and everyone is having a great time. Suddenly, one of the folks waiting in line at the Kansas City Community Kitchen runs out and begins yelling, “We need medical care! We need housing! Have mercy! Help us!”

A couple of us gently encourage him to go back to the food line, and when he shakes us off and begins to yell even more loudly, “Help us! Help us!” we start to look for Security, and hope that the police are nearby.

We are not Jesus. Jesus does something exceptional. He calls for the beggar out of the crowd, and asks him what he wants. Bartimaeus also does something exceptional; when Jesus asks him what he wants, he simply tells him. He is blind, and he wants to see. And his sight is restored.

This all seems pretty simple: Charlie Brown puts his faith in an untrustworthy source year after year, and is disappointed over and over. Bartimaeus puts his faith in a trustworthy source, and his faith is rewarded. OK, so we should put our trust in Jesus; I’m not going to argue with that!

But here’s the awkward part: if that’s all there is to it, why is there war? Why is there unhappiness in families and why are there homeless people on the streets? Why are the rainforests disappearing?

One currently popular religious approach says that the world is rushing into final days of destruction, and that we shouldn’t impede its journey into doom. The sooner it all collapses around us, the sooner Jesus will come again. It’s not our business to interrupt God’s plan.

We can’t use that excuse. While we, too, look toward the coming in fullness of God’s love on earth and pray “Thy kingdom come,” we say that Christ is risen and that the Holy Spirit is among us and that God the Father is still the creator of life. And while we always assume that God is active in the world, we can never just sit back and wait for God to get busy. We are the body of Christ in the world.

When Bartimaeus cries out, he cries out to us. When we see people on the street, and when we read about addiction and poverty and famine and disaster, the cry is for our ears to hear. When our Bishops and convention delegates ask us to work toward the Millennium Development goals for healing the hurts of the world, they are crying out to us on behalf of those whose voices are silenced.

Our willingness to respond to such cries happens naturally under certain conditions. The first condition is that we feel compassion, which means that we somehow identify with the pain of others. This is simple if we are able to acknowledge the suffering that we each have had in our own lives. The next condition is that we, ourselves, feel secure enough to risk giving. We give out of abundance.

Here at the cathedral, we have a good record of responding. We give from our pocketbooks and of our time and labor and talent. These gifts rest upon the spiritual abundance that flows out of patient faith, and the security found when we understand that everything rests in Christ; when we return God’s love with ours; when we offer, along with the bread and the wine, our selves, our souls, and our bodies as elements received from and returned to God.

We are called to be both Bartimaeus and Jesus in the world. Bartimaeus, who has nothing material to offer, follows Jesus in the way of life, and so becomes a lesson for others. We, too, may find and guide others to new life through simple faith and the courage to persist in hope rightly placed, and to ask for what we need.

Jesus shows us how to respond when asked.

If we want to be Jesus in the world, not Lucy, we must draw strength and abundance from the Divine love that permeates all things. The diocesan convention concluded yesterday with a litany of thanksgiving before we were blessed and charged to go forth. We follow the same pattern tonight and in every service of Holy Eucharist, which is our Great Thanksgiving. We gather, we hear God’s Word, we offer ourselves and our thanks as we receive God’s love, and we go forth, seeing Christ in the faces around us, to love God back. In so doing, our sight is restored.