Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Space

Mark 10.46-52

The Healing of Blind Bartimaeus

46 They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. ⁴⁷When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’ ⁴⁸Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’ ⁴⁹Jesus stood still and said, ‘Call him here.’ And they called the blind man, saying to him, ‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.’ ⁵⁰So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.⁵¹Then 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.’ ⁵²Jesus said to him, ‘Go; your faith has made you well.’ Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way. 

What is ‘gospel?’

Perhaps we need not look any further than this healing story from Jesus.

Take a closer look at it.

Before Jesus heals Bartimaeus, he asks him what he wants.

Jesus's love for people means he listens to them.

Faith can make us well. This is not magic, or superstition, or some simple fix of course. It seems clear, to me at least, that when Jesus says, "Your faith has made you well" he is not saying that these people somehow believed their way into wellness. Rather he is pronouncing their wellness, declaring it, making it happen for them. It is Jesus who heals, and faith that receives that healing. And so it is, or can be, for those who hear this story and this good news. Faith can make us well. Faith can open our ears, unstop our ears -- even raise us from death.

As much as we may want to make this piece of scripture only about faith, there is something else to explore in regards to being church.

Did you notice how the blind man responded when he heard who was in his presence?

Better yet, did you notice how “the many” around him responded when they heard the blind man cry out, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”?

His cries stopped Jesus in his tracks. Even against the advice of his top advisors and friends who knew better, Jesus stops and listens.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks.

“My teacher, let me see again.”

What if God is waiting for us as God’s people to begin to ask what we want of God? What if the way we can bring healing to such a hurting place is by stopping and listening to the cries around us? What would our ministry look like if we visited everybody we send checks to?

Gospel is not only the telling of the good news. But it is also about listening for it. Then, providing that space where we can celebrate our good news together as a community.

Daily, as God’s people, we have choices to make.

We choose to listen and to see.

Or we choose not to.

So I can’t help but wonder, what do you think Jesus would show us if we allowed him to fully open our eyes to the beauty that surrounds us?

God sees us as God’s beloved children. It is time we begin to do the same.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Sassy

Sassy

He’ll turn 8 in a little over a week.

He was born on Mother’s Day in 2007.

8 weeks he came home with me. A little golden ball of fur who whined all night and awkwardly tumbled upstairs and was so adorable I almost thought about renting him out to single folks.

He’s always had a heart of gold. I like to think it’s from his golden coat that goes with me everywhere.

Whenever we go out, people are often taken aback by his size. “Does he bite?” they ask. Always with a grin, I reply, “Nope. He’ll lick ya to death.”

I guess you could say he is a gentle giant.

People who don’t have pets don’t quite understand their impact on us humans. Often when I’ve talked about Silas and Chloe people will ask, “Oh, are they your children?” and when I politely say no there is often an expression of judgment. No that is too strong of a word. There is an expression of misunderstanding and ignorance. Pets are intuitive creatures. Especially dogs. When the time is right, rarely do they instigate for their own sake of feeling good. Nor do they ever talk back. And never have I ever come home and was met by Silas and Chloe with their tails not wagging. Even on their worst days, and on my very awful, no good, bad days, they offer me love.

All went well today at our vet appointment. Both dogs are healthy and the lumps found on Silas’ belly are nothing to worry about. A large sigh of relief was breathed at the house upon the good news.

They are with me now at church. Asleep at my feet. Silas is snoring by the door. And Chloe, well, about every 4 minutes she raises her head as if she has heard something. Perhaps she hears the church mouse.

Next week Silas turns 8. The following week Chloe will turn 3. They are dogs, yes. But they are much more than that. They are companions and teachers. They reveal insight about joy and simplicity, grace and forgiveness, happiness and love. Life isn’t perfect. And trust me, my pups aren’t perfect. However, despite the imperfections, they help me see each day as a gift, a reason to go on an adventure and smell the flowers, to walk a little slower, to saunter more.

Before you think I’ve gone off the deep end and am a pantheist, let it be known I am a Christian. In fact, I absolutely love the story of creation and how God created us in Her image, selflessly and with great love. I find comfort knowing that before God made a partner for humans, there were animals to keep us company. However, I do like to read those ancient creation myths that depict God with a dog. These stories do not explain the existence of the dog; like God, the dog is assumed to have existed from the beginning. In this assumption, these primordial people revealed their intense attachment to their animal companions.

I agree with Milan Kundera who speaks to this attachment when he says:

Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace.

Silas can be sassy.

Chloe can be…difficult?

But they make me smile.

And that is one of the greatest gifts of peace I can receive.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Sneaking

“We work for peace every time we exercise authority with wisdom and authentic love.”

― Jean Vanier, Finding Peace

Last night after our Taize service, I found myself unable to leave the chapel. For about 20 minutes after the last person who walked through the chapel doors left, I sat in the dark with only candles burning, listening, being still, and praying.

At first I didn’t know what to pray for. There was so much on my mind.

There are those in life who are in a season of transition.

There are those in life who are enduring pain and heartache.

There are those in life who are battling with all their might an illness:  physical, spiritual, emotional, or mental.

There are those who find their lives uprooted by injustices; by violence; by hatred; by oppression.

There are those in Baltimore.

The are those in Nepal.

There are those in the LGBTQ community.

There are those in our own pews:  you and me.

Where does prayer begin? How does prayer begin when the world is so full of hurt?

Silence.

That’s where.

A fellow pastor recently posted this prayer and today, I’ve found myself praying it over

and over

and

over...

O God,

O Spirit,

O Christ,

Help me today to listen. Even more than usual. Even more than yesterday.

Help me to listen to voices usually silenced. Help me to listen to voices I put down. Help me to listen to those who have no voice. Help me to listen to those whose voices were taken from them. Help me to listen to those who disagree with me. Help me to listen to those who call me out. Help me to listen for hidden agendas and unknown biases. Help me to listen for my own privilege sneaking out of my own voice. And most of all, help me to listen for you. Help me to listen for you in the voices of my neighbors, my friends, and my enemies. Help me listen to the ways you are calling me to action. Help me to listen to the truth, hope and love in your everlasting voice.

Help me today to listen. Even more than usual. Even more than yesterday.

Amen.

Everyone has a voice. As God’s people, I always thought we were to be the voice for the voiceless.

I realize now this isn’t the case.

We are to listen for the voices of all people. We are to help them sing their song. We are to cultivate a community where all can be hear and their stories shared.

And then, listen to them. Whether they are familiar voices or voices that cause our pulse to quicken.

Listen to the people in your lives. Truly listen. Stop and listen.

Silently listen.

And you’ll soon discover, you’ve been praying the whole time….

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Solomon

Solomon

Before the daffodil petals disappear.

Before the bright colors of the tulips turn to green.

Before the maple trees burst into fits of green.

Before the whites and yellows, purples and pinks are gone take time to enjoy them.

Luke 12.27

²⁷Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

Take time to be still today. Take time to watch the robin hop from limb to limb. Take time to watch a squirrel struggle to get every bit of that bird seed from your feeder.

Thoreau said, and I think suggested, “Many a forenoon have I stolen away, preferring to spend thus the most valued part of the day; for I was rich, if not in money, in sunny hours and summer days, and spent them lavishly; nor do I regret that I did not waste more of them in the workshop or the teacher’s desk.”

Do what you need to do today.

Work a solid 8 hours. Accomplish all that is on your to do list. Go grocery shopping. Mow the lawn or weed the garden. Grade papers or bake goodies.

Whatever it is you need to do, do it and do it well.

Then, be still.

Take in the season of spring. Take a stroll around the block and notice the plants you haven’t before. Take a drive to the park and walk a trail.

Whatever it is you need to do, take time to do it and be still.

Be still.

Stop. Don’t argue. Don’t make excuses.

Be still.

Your spirit will thank you. The earth will too.

April Prayer

by Stuart Kestenbaum

Just before the green begins there is the hint of green

a blush of color, and the red buds thicken

the ends of the maple’s branches and everything

is poised before the start of a new world,

which is really the same world

just moving forward from bud

to flower to blossom to fruit

to harvest to sweet sleep, and the roots

await the next signal, every signal

every call a miracle and the switchboard

is lighting up and the operators are

standing by in the pledge drive we’ve

all been listening to: Go make the call.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Cease

cease to be a vocation

This year’s Holy Week hangover has extended into the 2nd full week of Easter. After taking the first week rather slowly at church, I’ve reentered into the pastorate full speed…and still a bit blurry.

A mentor of mine recently emailed a group of us young pastors an article encouraging us to take the necessary time to recover, regroup, and practice resurrection ourselves. Indeed, the holiest times of the church year - Advent, Christmas, Lent, Holy Week, and Easter - are often times of hurry and anxiety rather than reflection and prayer. We lose our way and forget what’s important when we place everyone else’s spiritual lives ahead of our own.

After a week that began with a bout with food poisoning during the early hours of Palm Sunday and ending with 6 services from Maundy Thursday through Easter Sunday worship, my body, my mind, and my spirit continues to limp into this season of light. Though I tried my best not to, during the last couple weeks of Lent I found myself putting everything on hold. This of course has lead to playing catch up and lots of frustration.

Last night during my session meeting I’ve decided I need to restructure, I need to reorganize, I need to resurrect the administrative piece of my profession. My thoughts were affirmed this morning when I read the following from Pope Francis in his memoirs titled, “Open Mind, Faithful Heart.”

“An abyss separates the priest from the religious functionary; they are qualitatively different. Sadly, however, the priest can be slowly transformed little by little, into a religious functionary. When that happens, the priesthood ceases to be a bridge, and the priest is no longer a pontifex, a builder of bridges; he ends up simply having a function to perform. He ceases to be a mediator and becomes simply an intermediary. No one chooses to be a priest; it is Jesus Christ who does the choosing.” 

Busyness can lead to anxiety which can lead to a job…and not a vocation. Ultimately, I have a choice:  I can pursue either an out of sync, overworked, long hour job or a balanced, boundary drawing, profession which includes regular recreation and rest. 

This is where I want to be. 

I imagine doing this will lead to the resurrection I preach about.

The article my mentor sent me summarizes the tension us clergy folk live in well, “Healthy ministry is grounded in finding your spiritual GPS, a spiritual center that enables you to discern the important from the unimportant, prioritize activities, balance action and contemplation, and relationships and work. Jesus regularly needed to check his spiritual GPS through times of contemplation and solitude.”

Pope Francis goes on to say a priest isn’t simply to speak about God’s presence. Rather, we must engage engage in a twofold movement of seeking to encounter God and receiving rest from God. 

Perhaps the remedy for my Holy Week Hangover isn’t catching up on all the emails I put off, but rather, it is accompanying Thoreau in the woods, away from the beep and buzz of a phone and the clicking and clacking of a keyboard and into that silent land where daydreams and creativity reside.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Sunny Celebration

Sunny Celebration

It was a glorious day.

No one could have picked a more perfect Sunday to celebrate the joy of Easter.

I remember hearing the birds sing during the Sunrise service.

The sun made her way over the horizon (read:  the jr. high) just as we said our final ‘Amen’ and greeted one another once more, “Christ has risen indeed!”

Our 40 days in the wilderness and our slow march during Holy Week turned into a bright hour of song and celebration as we celebrated the gift of resurrection during worship at 10am.

Sunday, was, well, pretty perfect.

Easter has come and gone now….

Or has it?

As many of you know, Easter isn’t but 1 Sunday. No, it is actually 50 days! Thus, for the next 6 or 7 weeks we will hear stories of the post-resurrected Jesus.

We do this to remind ourselves that we are in fact an Easter people!

The work isn’t done. Rather, now is the season and time for us to celebrate the life we receive from God’s grace. Now is the time to celebrate the sunny days and the joy of laughter. Now is the time to thank God for life—for today—for our friends and family—thank God for

YOU!

Creation isn’t done with ‘resurrection’ either. Trees are blooming; daffodils are opening; and grass is growing. Before you know it, the slow process of re-creation will have completely consumed our neighborhoods.

This work, this re-creation, is also happening in you.

Everyday God is shaping you into the person who God wants you to become. Believe it. Trust it. Embrace it. As an Easter people we are reminded that God has never given up on us and that not even death could keep God’s love for us down.

So friends, I encourage you to practice resurrection in the coming days. Celebrate the gift of a new day…this new season.

Easter has not passed us. Rather, it is just beginning.

Also, in honor of national poetry week, I want to share a poem by my favorite writer, Thomas Merton that has set my course for this Easter season.

Take thought, man, tonight. Take thought, man tonight when it is dark, when it is raining. Take thought of the game you have forgotten. You are the child of a great and peaceful race. You are the son of an unutterable fable. You were discovered on a mild mountain. You have come up out of the godlike ocean. You are holy, disarmed, signed with a chaste emblem. You are also marked with forgetfulness. Deep inside your breast you were the number of loss. Take thought, man, tonight. Do this. Do this. Recover your original name. This is the early legend that returns. This is the legend that begins again. Remember the ancient dances. (He has remembered the whole world at peace. He has remembered the world of villages, of maize, of emeralds, of quiet mothers. He has lifted up the world.)

May you during this Easter season, discover your original name.