Mark 10:46-52

Bethel 10/26/03

The Reverend Marc Sherrod

We all know about the 3Rs of grade school: reading, writing, and ‘rithmetic, “taught to the tune of a hickory stick,” as the old song goes. We hear in the news about three other Rs in the corporate world – realignment, reorganization, restructuring -- words that often are actually euphemisms for downsizing. And, in the church, we have our 3Rs as well - repentance, renewal, and . . . what’s a good third one, do you think?

Re. It is a very supple prefix, with virtually unlimited potential uses. My Latin dictionary says that it means, “again,” “back,” or “anew.” Thus “v-e-r-s” in Latin means to go toward, but put a “re” in front of it and you get “reverse.” L-i-g-o“ means to bind together, or to bind up, as in ligaments that connect the bones in our bodies, but put a “re” in front and you get “religion,” which gives a whole new meaning to being bound together. Or, take the root “naissance,” which means to be born, and put “re” in front and you get the word Renaissance, one of the biggest words of all to anyone who reads history. Make a game of it at home sometime! You Scrabble experts know that there are lots and lots of “re” words.

One more. For the church’s third “re,” try the word “formation,” which we probably associate with the alignment of offensive players on the football team, and suddenly, after adding the “re” you have reformation, which is about as good as the Church, at least a Protestant Church, can get to a third R on a day like today. You probably didn’t know that the slogan of our church, in Latin, goes: Ecclesia semper reformata et reformanda, secundum verbum dei. I should ask all the pupils and former pupils of Mrs. Crossnough to stand up and translate that together! It means, the “Church, reformed, is always being reformed, according to the Word of God,” which, if nothing else, implies that there is always a process of self-examination and change and RE if we are to be true to God’s Word.

Of course, if I say “reformation” then I am obligated to say “Luther,” not an “re” word, but we Presbyterians, who don’t place our “re” at the very first of our name, since we hide it behind our “p,” we should at least pay a little lip service to this giant of reform, renewal, and renovation. We usually do that by singing “A Mighty Fortress is Our God,” great words that Luther set to the tune of a popular song sung in the pubs of his day. Or, we celebrate the time the young Roman Catholic priest nailed his 95 theses or arguments for reform of medieval Catholicism to the door of the Castle Church of Wittenburg in Germany on October 31, 1517. Or, we quote that famous line of protest he uttered in 1521 in his second appearance before the Imperial Diet at Worms, “To Go Against One’s Conscience is Neither Safe Nor Right -- Here I Stand, I cannot Do Otherwise.”

Luther, a great theologian, a great scholar, a great preacher! He called the church to get back to the basics of reading scripture, relying on grace and faith alone, not an exclusive reliance on the mediation of the priests and the ministrations of the Church. Even the most skeptical of atheists must reckon with Luther if only to understand history itself as history has unfolded since the 16^th century.

What we don’t usually celebrate about Luther is one of the 3Rs of the church I first mentioned – repentance. He wrote a treatise in 1543 On the Jews and their Lies in which he said that Christians should take vengeance on the Jews for killing Christ and other innocent Christians over the centuries, an argument later used by no less of a personification of evil than Adolf Hitler to justify the Holocaust. On another occasion, Luther, whose stature in the political arena was great, also approved and helped to justify the massacre of 8000 peasants. Blind spots. But then, all our heroes, no less than all of us, are a mixed bag. If history has any lessons to teach us, it must be that no one is as good as it might seem.

On the other hand, another lesson is that it is the troublemakers, despite their blind spots, who frequently become the prophets, like Martin Luther or the other Luther, Martin Luther King, Jr. whose greatest sermon, the “I have a Dream” speech just marked its 40^th anniversary, the greatest speech in American history. But even King had his blind spots. And historians can tell you all about them.

But these are the rhythms of the third R -- reformation. The troublemakers become heroes. The new wine of change can no longer be contained in the old wine skins. The radical new ways eventually become beloved traditions. I can assure you that the founders of this congregation would be appalled at the changes that have happened here over the last two hundred years. Like the ordination of women; like a racially inclusive denomination; like elected elders who are not always elderly; like using any confession of faith other than the Westminster Confession; and the list goes on and on. But thanks be to God! We are always moving from blindness to sightedness, from worn-out traditions to bold reform, from the old to something brand new. And so it was in the time of Jesus, as well.

No troublemaker and not even a prophet, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus was returning to his usual spot for begging in the day in question in our text. Back to the roadside, hoping pilgrims on the way to Jerusalem might have a little mercy and give him some alms. Back to silent sounds and dusty feet shuffling. Back to his worn cloak and a worn life and worn out eyes.

We don’t know a lot about Bartimaeus, this son of Timaeus, but chances are, those who saw him interpreted his blindness as evidence of God’s judgment. Whether he, indeed, felt judged, we don’t know either, but we do know that he wants mercy, and mercy is what he gets, although in a way he did not expect. Perhaps that is the best we, too, can hope for when it comes to our own blind spots. Mercy.

“Healing stories,” as the Lutheran pastor Mary Anderson writes, “never seem to be simply a reversal of physical misfortune. A paralyzed man stands and walks. A man stretches out a withered hand to Jesus and sees it become useful again. A girl who was pronounced dead awakens. . . The connections between seeing and believing are so strong in the Gospel accounts that these miracles worked through Jesus almost always seem more growing in faith than taking off dark glasses. Though Bartimaeus was blind to many things, [in the end] he clearly saw who Jesus was” (Christian Century, 10/19/03, 20).

Physical sight is not required for discipleship, but restoration, another good “re” word, is. Blind Bartimaeus returns to the roadside, and in his returning, his sight is restored. He even got more than he bargained for. He got redemption.

But really, how did he, or for that matter, how do any of us, overcome our blind spots so that we can find our way to the kind of redemption Jesus offers? Luther and the whole Sixteenth Century Protestant Reformation stood on the conviction that it is grace alone that saves, that ultimately, none of our works can get the job done, which is why Luther wanted to omit the letter of James from the New Testament canon with its bold assertion that “faith without works is dead.”

But how do we follow? How do we overcome our blindness? What gift of faith has been entrusted to us? Bartimaeus, the text says, after receiving his sight, immediately began to follow Jesus on the road, no doubt with those words “your faith has made you well” still echoing in his ears if not in his eyes. It would be nice if following were so simple and easy, would it not? just step out onto the road and put one foot in front of the other. Then, make your way to Jerusalem.

Optometrists tell us there is a disease called “presbyopia,” that is, literally, old eyes. It comes from the Greek root “presby,” which means elder, since Presbyterians govern themselves by rule of elders. Whether the eyes of faith are more prone to blind spots and to wearing out the older you get, I am inclined to doubt, but the truth of the matter is that blind spots, at whatever age, do prevent us from seeing Jesus for who he really is.

What corners of the church, of society, of the nation need serious reformation in this 21^st century? Will a reformer arise among us? Should one arise, what will we do to him or her? What do we allow to go unchallenged today that will one day cause our grandchildren to shake their heads at how blind we were to the gospel?

This week, I was the subject of an interview by a daughter whose assignment was to find out “what it was like when you were a kid?” One memory I shared was the memory of wanting to invite my best friend, I think I was about 10 years old, who happened to be African-American, to Vacation Bible School, and being told that wasn’t such a good idea. That was about the time court-ordered integration came to South Carolina.

Or the memory I didn’t share with her, also from South Carolina, of visiting with a friend, this time a white boy two or three years older than I who lived across the street, this was in 1964, and his proudly showing off the pocket knives and other weapons his father had bought for him so that he could show the blacks, although he didn’t use that word, who was boss when they came to his school.

Blind spots. Even today, it is hard to believe that church-going people could be so blind. I am told there were some blind people, believe it or not, even here at Bethel.

I predict that in a future generation or two, church people will look back and realize that one of our major blind spots today was the whole issue of homosexuality when interpreted in the light of the ethic of Jesus. Not to say it will no longer be a divisive issue, because it will continue to divide, but my reading of history is that Presbyterians will eventually go the way of the Episcopalians, both in giving the right of ordination to gays and in eventually experiencing a church split. It won’t be as momentous as the split in the church Luther started almost 500 years ago, but the issue is not one that is going to go gently away. And whatever side of the aisle you sit on concerning that issue, you know that both sides, as in any church split, will continue to accuse the other side of being the blind ones.

Of course, the major battles over racial equality are now, thankfully in the past; and the real battle in the future over issues of sexuality and ordination, I believe, still lies somewhere out there in the perhaps distant future.

Which does leave us in the present, and perhaps wondering what the RE word, “reformation,” has to do with us, if anything.

This is not something you should have noticed, but there were only two “re” words that appeared in the list of ministry initiatives that you received as a part of Bethel’s visioning process. Remodel the kitchen was one and reinvent the church library was the other. For whatever reason, RE words that pack some theological punch, words like repentance, renewal, or even reformation are not there. It is easy enough to be critical in retrospect, but I think it is true that the absence of words like those, more than anything else, may speak to our own blind spots.

But I am not discouraged. In fact I take great hope that, just in the past week, one blind spot has already been corrected. In case you hadn’t observed, Bethel’s stairwells, aesthetically, leave much to be desired. But with the installation of a new light fixture in one of them, we all can now see, as we’re climbing up, what’s in front of us, in new ways. In fact, now we can even read that Bible verse, which we learn, was quilted into that hanging fabric in 1993, commemorating the 175^th anniversary of this congregation.

What blind spot can we now see?

“Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.”

Yes, Presbyterians do hide our “RE” behind our “P.” Yes, we do have blind spots. But thanks be to God, we also have learned how to put one foot in front of the other and, like a beggar, formerly blind, make our way towards Jerusalem.