Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost

Unworthiness is not Worthlessness: "Go your way; your faith has saved you."

Faith is a gift, freely given, immeasurably valuable, but rarely embraced.  Why?  Consider Bartimaeus in today’s gospel.  He is blind and wants to see.  In his blindness, he yells out in his darkness at the passing healer, Jesus, whom he knows will save him.  The folks around him probably wondered what he had done to displease God such that he was blind; and what does Bartimaeus do?  He makes a scene—a very annoying distraction for those trying to get a glimpse of Jesus.  Bartimaeus seems also to attribute his blindness with sinfulness because he doesn’t yell out “Make me better!  Over here, Jesus.  I’m blind.  Make me better”.  Bartimaeus gets Jesus’ attention by yelling "Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me."  He yells this out twice.  By addressing Jesus as son of David, he implicitly acknowledges Jesus as successor to David and Messiah. Jesus’ reply is intriguing: “"Go your way; your faith has saved you."  Jesus didn’t say “I have healed you”, but rather focuses on the power of Bartimaeus’ faith. There is no recording of Bartimaeus even having been touched by Jesus.  Jesus simply declares him healed by Bartimaeus' faith and to “Go your way….”

Bartimaeus’ healing is a wonderful instruction in faith, healing and mission.  In leading with the phrase “Have mercy on me”, he understands healing begins establishing the correct relationship between himself and Jesus.  He, perhaps more than anyone else in the crowd, knows he is the least entitled; but his faith in the nature of Jesus’ compassion gives him the courage to call out. If our sense of unworthiness doesn’t compel us to call out, our real need isn’t healing, but faith. Realizing our unworthiness isn’t the same as worthlessness.  God’s love gives us our worth; we cannot generate it ourselves.  William Sloane Coffin, a famous preacher, wrote of this dynamic eloquently:

“Of God’s love we can say two things: it is poured out universally for everyone from the Pope to the loneliest wino on the planet; and secondly, God’s love doesn’t seek value, it creates value.  It is not because we have value that we are loved, but because we are loved that we have value.  Our value is a gift, not an achievement.” 

Bartimaeus understood the source of his worth by faith, and this is what gave him the courage to call out for healing from Jesus.  Approaching God in a humility that is based upon establishing this right-relationship is essential.  Too often a sense of worthlessness keeps our prayers silent or redirected towards a favorite saint.  We might be unworthy, but we are far from worthless.  God’s love establishes our worth for all time, independent of our actions.  Recognizing God’s love can allow us to cry out to God “Have mercy on me, a sinner….unworthy, but not worthless, because you love me, God!”  Faith, then, at its essence is letting God know you’ve received the gift and want to claim it despite all the negative voices telling you to “be silent.”

Originally published October 28, 2012

Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost

To Be a Servant

              Mark’s community faced many struggles.  This community was likely made up of Jews living outside Palestine, and Romans. It is this reason that many have suggested that “Mark’s” community was in or near Rome. More important, though, is this community faced persecution from outside and division from within; it was a community under siege. One source of internal division seems to be over positions of prestige and honor within the community as reflected in James and John jostling for position. It is interesting to note that in Matthew, it isn’t the disciples seeking position and prestige, bur rather their mother interceding on their behalf! Although such concern for ranking was not exclusive to Gentiles, Jesus’ response suggests the Kingdom will not be about the exercise of authority, but about the exercise of humility. Jesus’ identification with the Suffering Servant Messiah of Isaiah was difficult to accept, and the motif of the journey to Jesus’ death on the cross is central to following him both in a figurative and literal sense.

             How, then, do we regard the admonition to be servants? How far do we take this? Once again, Jesus gives us a standard of living that seems absurdly idealistic. And, once again, we see how far we are from that ideal. Following Jesus, the greatest cross for many is the cross of failure when one comes to understand the demands of love and sacrifice asked of us. Rather than become disheartened, however, it should remind us of the need for God’s grace, and our humble response of humility and gratitude.

             If we could but picture ourselves in a long retinue of followers, tripping constantly and falling farther and farther behind on this journey to Jerusalem, only to discover at the end of the line Jesus, offering us water and encouragement by telling us we were not the last after all; Jesus will be just behind us all the way.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

A Little Lower than Angels 

Jesus’ response to the Pharisees in the gospel of Mark is a harsh commentary on divorce. He replies to the question about divorce by saying: "Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery." In Matthew 19, Jesus leave the possibility of divorce for a woman who is unchaste in her marriage. Luke’s gospel aligns with Mark, but St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 7:10 accommodates the law of the Romans to allow a woman to divorce her husband, which was not permitted under Jewish law.

              If this seems a bit unclear, consider the context of Jesus’ pronouncement in Mark. In Jesus’ time, divorce was common, and depending on the interpretive school you favored, you would get either a more or less restrictive set of exceptions. For example, in the Hillel school divorce was granted for a man whose wife served him a “spoiled dish” or if he found a woman more attractive than his wife. Clearly this was an abuse of the language of the Torah, which is a bit vague. A man may divorce if he finds “something objectionable” about her. Obviously, this invites a great spectrum of interpretation, and Jesus was taking the Pharisees to task for failing to appreciate the intent of marriage: to join two into one flesh. Such a high water-mark for marriage is sustainable only within the Kingdom Jesus is ushering into existence. Where love and self-sacrifice are the norms, divorce is an anomaly for those only whose hearts have “hardened”. Jesus uses this image of the “hardened heart” to suggest that the standard he is setting is the fulfillment of the Law.

              Pastorally, though, as in countless examples, Jesus encounters sin with compassion and access to himself. Unfortunately, not all Christian churches are so welcoming. Because we set a high standard for marriage should not mean that we exclude those who fail to meet the ideal by refusing communion, according them second-class stature if they remarry. Indeed, the accommodation made by Jesus in Matthew, and by Paul suggests that divorce, while not ideal, is in some circumstances a concession because we are not yet perfect.

              Jesus’ entire ministry, focused on healing, mercy and sacrificial love itself is an accommodation to our fallen world, which offers glimpses of who we can become in our journey with Christ. Rather than focus on the punishment of those whose marriages fail and who remarry when they find someone who better exemplifies the perfection of one flesh, the Church should strive to exemplify the perfection of Christ who did not deny himself to anyone. Welcoming divorced and remarried Catholics to communion is one way we, as Old Catholics, exemplify the healing touch of Christ.