Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from Long Journey Home: A Guide to Your Search for the Meaning of Life by Os Guinness

Early in Charles Darwin’s life, his first visit to the Brazilian rain forest had suffused him with “feelings of wonder, admiration, and devotion.” Later, increasingly influenced by the effects of his chosen philosophy of naturalism, he acknowledged that he had lost the faculty for comprehending anything apart from empirical data. “But now the grandest scenes would not cause any such convictions and feelings to rise in my mind. It may truly be said,” he wrote, “that I am like a man who has become color blind.

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 10 verses 46 through 52

They came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When Bartimaeus heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, Jesus is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately the man regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.

This Week's Sermon

Date: October 25, 2009

Title:Let Me See Again

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

The message of the Gospels is often very clear without any apparent hidden meaning whatsoever. One example of this is found in the 25th Chapter of Matthew when Jesus says, “When I was hungry, you gave me something to eat; when I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink; when I was sick or imprisoned, you visited me.”

The message is not ambiguous. It’s clear that the groups of people mentioned here are typically marginalized groups who are suffering and in need, but who are also very much ignored by society. But Jesus says that when we take care of the least of these, we have understood his message—and it is as if we have offered this same attention to Jesus himself.

Visiting those in the hospital, then, is part of a Pastor’s duty to fulfill one of these pronouncements as it’s spoken in the Gospel. But sometimes, some of us try a little too hard.

And so it was for a young Pastor who visited an elderly man from his congregation recovering from a serious illness in the hospital. The man had suffered a heart attack and was having difficulty breathing on his own. He was placed on a respirator and alone in his hospital room when the Pastor arrived. The man appeared to be unconscious, and as the Pastor stood at his bedside and prayed, he thought he would try to communicate with the man.

“Mr. Johnson, can you hear me?” asked the Pastor. But the patient showed no sign of hearing him. The Pastor moved closer, and said louder, “Mr. Johnson, how are you feeling?” This time, the man grunted, and the Pastor was pleased that at least the man seemed to know he was there. The Pastor asked, “Mr. Johnson, would you like me to pray with you?” This time, the man grunted even louder, so the Pastor opened his Bible and began to read.

Very soon after, he noticed a change come over the man. His eyes started bulging and his face began to turn red. The Pastor was alarmed and said, “Mr. Johnson, can I do anything for you?” Suddenly, Mr. Johnson opened his eyes and nodded his head vigorously.

Sensing the end was near, the Pastor asked, “Mr. Johnson, are there any last words you would like me to convey?” Mr. Johnson again nodded, violently this time, and motioned to something beside the bed. Spotting a table, the sympathetic Pastor picked up a pad and pencil and passed it to the man under the oxygen tent. The man wrote something, stuffed it in the Pastor's hand, and then he gasped, his eyes closed, and he fell back on his pillow. Mr. Johnson had died.

Shaken, yet feeling something very spiritual and important had just happened, the Pastor said a final prayer and stepped out of the room. As he waited for the nurse to appear, the Pastor suddenly remembered the note which he had stuck in his pocket. He realized the possible importance of the man's last words, and opened the crumpled paper. He stopped in his tracks and swallowed, as he read the hastily scrawled words: "Pastor, you're standing on my oxygen line!"
___________________________________________________________

Will you pray with me? God, thank you for bringing us together this morning—for giving us a purpose in joining one another in community. Give us the continued understanding that each of us belongs here; each of us has our work to do. Continue our efforts to be a welcoming and inclusive community. May our passion be unending as we continue the work you have called us to do. May my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.
_____________________________________________________________

Today’s scripture is one of the Gospel lessons I spoke about earlier that appears to be fairly self-explanatory and without hidden meaning.

Bartimaeus heard that Jesus had come to Jericho, and sensing that Jesus was near, he cried out for mercy. Though the crowd tried to quiet him, he persisted. Jesus asked that the man be brought to him, and asked him, “What is it you want me to do for you?”

“Let me see again,” Bartimaeus said simply. Jesus responded by saying, “Your faith has made you well.” And Bartimaeus’ vision was restored.

It sounds simple enough, which is always the case if you’re looking for simple explanations.

Obviously, something had happened in Bartimaeus’ life that caused him to lose his sight; he was not blind from birth. He knew what having his sight was like, at least at one time in his life, for he asked, “Let me see again.”

What we may not have considered should give us pause. We don’t actually know whether Bartimaeus’ request was for his physical healing alone. Perhaps his desire was not only that his physical sight be restored, but that his spiritual blindness might also be healed.

When we talk about our vision, we must consider the existence of two abilities to see: an outer vision, which is our physical vision, our ocular capacity; and an inner vision, which is our ability to see internally, to see with the mind and with the soul, perhaps known as our ability to perceive the life within us.

Too often, we take our physical vision for granted. I know this because every time the lights go out in the night, I have trouble getting around in a house I know fairly well. I’m relieved that yesterday’s blackout came during daylight. When the lights go out at night, I suddenly become extremely cautious moving about in the dark because I’m not entirely sure what’s in front of me. Did I leave a chair pulled out from the table? Is there a laundry basket near the door? Am I about to step on the paws of Ellie or Cioffi?

When darkness comes, we are forced to readjust. We’re forced to slow down. We feel our way from place to place, trying to remember where we last put the flashlight. Or “I know where the candles are, but where are the matches?”

The same is true with our hearing. I mentioned last week that I couldn’t hear out of my right ear. That lasted almost a full week. It really changed my way of life for the past week. Either there was a ringing in my ear causing me to be unable to hear clearly, or everything would echo and I couldn’t understand what people were saying.

I found myself repeating things that someone else had just said, feeling so proud of myself that I was the first one to come up with a bright idea only to have others laughing in the room. I heard things that nobody said; I heard sounds that nobody made. And since I could not tell what volume my own speech was, I spoke softer than usual, making it difficult for others to hear me.
And so, like our sense of hearing, our physical sense of sight can be affected by very small things.

But what about our inner vision? Science has developed many theories about the so-called “inner eye— a relic from our reptilian ancestors. It’s located at the center of the brain.

“Information from all our senses passes through the inner eye before being routed to the higher brain. Nerves from our senses relay information through the inner eye, where their signals can be nuanced, enhanced, ignored, or otherwise colored, before they are processed by the cortex, and our higher consciousness.

“This allows the inner eye to have a powerful means of control over us. It determines who we are. We remember what interests us, and we forget what doesn't. We pursue what drives us, and we ignore what doesn't. We take the path of least resistance in life, with resistance defined by what experiences resonate with our inner eye. The inner eye thus determines our temperament, and who we can become.”

What happens when we lose our ability to see ourselves internally—to see ourselves or others objectively from within? What happens to that trigger inside of us that fails to click when it’s time to make an informed decision? Without the use of that inner sense, we often make bad decisions, if we are able to make decisions at all.

Though I will not speak for you, I can speak to experiences I have had or the experiences that others have shared with me about what it is that blinds our spirit. Our spirit is blinded when we get upset or angry. In such a condition, all we can think about is the focus of our upset or anger. Our out-of-control brain waves take over, our thought process erodes, and suddenly we are held captive by confusion and/or rage, held captive by what that inner voice believes about what is right, what is wrong, what is black and what is white.

Our spirit is blinded when we feel hurt or betrayed. Our mind makes up endless scenarios, one more vivid than the next. Multiple conversations take place—conversations with that which I shall lovingly call the “committee” in our head. The “committee” is that group of critics that reside within who constantly argue about which path we should take next.
We are so hurt and confused that our brain tries to protect our pain center by creating cushions of fantasy to avoid crashing hard into the walls of our mind.

Our spirit is blinded when we feel that we’ve failed. With feelings of failure, nothing anybody says, particularly the members of that special committee in our head, makes a difference. We are so hard on ourselves that there is no forward vision. We are so depressed that we lose our internal peripheral vision; we can no longer penetrate the solid walls of self-pity that form within us.

Our spirit is blinded when we feel abandoned, when it seems that we have the weight of the world on our shoulders and nobody seems to care or notice or respond. At some point early in this experience, inquiries about our well-being, if the arrive at all, arrive too late in our mind’s eye. A sense of despair and defensiveness ensues. Its only remedy is withdrawal, isolation and reclusion.

These are among the things within us that blind us from our inner vision. These are some of the reasons we react the way we do when that vision is not accessible to us.

How do we recover from this? What remedy can end this paralysis of the soul? With the loss of this important instinct, we wander around, stumbling in the dark, not remembering what dangerous hazards may be in our way.

I find it a strange irony that Charles Darwin, for centuries, has been made out to be a heathen, an atheist, a non-believer because he questioned the most basic assumptions about the origins of humanity.

Darwin recalled that he’d become numb by the analysis of things; as a result, he failed to see what was really there. His remarks conveyed that he felt his objectivity was lost because he had lost his inner vision—his inner understanding about self in relation to creation. Darwin had become so consumed by data and statistics, the wonder of life had become like familiar wallpaper that disappeared into the background of his mind.

Darwin had become oblivious to creation as it was. After so many years of analysis and study, he experienced creation as a scientific phenomenon because of the intensity of his work.
Darwin was, at many points in his life, a religious man. He never disavowed the existence of God, but through the years, felt that many religions provided access points to the Divine. Even a great genius like Charles Darwin can lose that inner vision.

It is a common occurrence for humankind to become blinded to what is really there—not only the beauty of life but its suffering as well. We get caught up in distractions, issues, challenges, or worse, a cultural mindset that tells us how we should feel and through what lens we should see.

Jesus said to Bartimaeus, “Your faith has made you well.” He didn’t say, “I healed you,” “I cured you,” or “The gifts given to me by the Holy One have restored your vision.” Jesus said it is your faith that “has made you well.”

Belief—and the spiritual practice of faith—is what can bring lasting healing to us. And while our physical selves may not always be fully restored to our liking, it is our inner vision—the perception of who we are and how we are to live—that will always be restored. It is faith that will restore us to wholeness.

May we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.