Sunday's sermon - the shouty one.

October 24, 2021
22nd Sunday after Pentecost

Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 126
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 10:46-52

Please pray with me,
May the words of my mouth and the mediations of all of our hearts be acceptable and suitable in your sight, O God, our rock, our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.  

In the book, A Prayer for Owen Meany, when the narrator is talking about his friend Owen, who is small for his size, and grew up in and around the granite mines in New Hampshire, he talks about his voice, which was strained…and every time Owen speaks in the book, his dialogue is always in all capital letters, it seems like he is always shouting….
When my grandmother, Omi, sent emails, it seemed like caps lock was always on….I felt like she was always shouting at me.  

HI JEN!
HOW ARE YOU?
I MISS YOU!

I LOVE YOU!

LOVE, OMI

There’s something about shouting that is sometimes jarring, like in the voice of Owen Meany or an email from your grandmother, but sometimes it's cathartic…and sometimes necessary.  

Yes…it’s the shouting, the crying out, that speaks to me today.  

For him to shout out to Jesus as he passes by….
For others to try to silence him, so much so that he shouts again….

Today’s story is in essence a simple one.  
But the layers of depth draw us in, in a way that I believe Jesus wants us to be drawn in.  

In the middle of many passages from Mark where the disciples are trying to understand Jesus presence and mission…and where they fit into it as well…we have this seemingly simple story of a blind man.  

Bartimaeus hears that Jesus is passing by so he shouts out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many around him sternly tell him to be quiet….but it doesn’t work.  
After they attempt to silence him, he shouts out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”  

Jesus stops.  

And says call him here.  

Bartimaeus throws off his cloak…a small detail, but huge in importance…this cloak was his sleeping mat, his cover at night, a place during the day to receive the coins that would have been tossed in his direction to help him survive…it was the one possession that helped him with shelter, food, comfort….it was all that he had.  and in that moment of being called by Jesus he throws it off…oh if only the rich man we heard about weeks ago could have seen that…

And then Jesus asks the same question he has asked of his disciples…what do you want me to do for you….?  
What do you want me to do for you?  

I mean, those looking in at this situation would think, duh! he’s blind, he wants to be able to see!  

But Jesus, after hearing the man cry out, looks at him and asks, what do you want me to do for you?  

Let’s stop right here.  

And let’s put ourselves into this story…right now.  

How many of us…feel like we are sitting on the sidelines….or feel like we are not being heard so we shout out to Jesus…seriously….shout out to Jesus…and say, have mercy on me!  And not just say, we shout it out….have mercy on me!  

Because this is where I am this week.

I’m feeling it, friends.  

I’m feeling, what seems to be the weight of the world, and I think it’s beginning to show.  

Last week two people commented about how tired I looked…. 
I’m not sharing this for sympathy or even help, but to get it out there.   

That I’m at the point of shouting out to Jesus, HAVE MERCY ON ME! 

So that Jesus stops…
Acknowledges me…
And asks me, Pastor Jen, what is it you want me to do for you?  

Because the reality of being asked that question…I don’t even know what I would ask…
Is that strange?  Is that weird?  
I don’t want to be saved from this situation, or swept up from it, just seen, acknowledged and heard.  

Because as I hear the cries of the people in this place,
as we lament this pandemic,
a year plus of loss and grief,
the wonder of the future of the church in this place,
the recent deaths and funerals,
the desire to return to the familiar that we miss so deeply…yet the familiar in a new way.  

I want to ask all of you….what is it you want me to do?  
But I’m afraid to…
Because I’m afraid I cannot meet the needs.
I’m afraid you will want things…need things…have needs…that I am not able to meet, help, solve, cure, or fix.

I’m afraid I will not be able to be the pastor you want me to be or need me to be in this place.  

Maybe that’s why I’m truly afraid to ask this question, because my own inadequacies, short fallings, will be revealed…and you won’t want to see them, or I won’t want to see them….oh, it just gets messy….

So I shy away from opening up the door to vulnerability and welcoming you into this space with me….

But today’s gospel shakes me out of that space false security, or false safety, and pushes and pulls me into the space of Christ in community.  And the reality that we are all longing to be seen and heard as we cry out for mercy. and that only when we are able to do that do we truly find ourselves in a place and position to be seen and heard by Jesus…and maybe even healed of these infirmities.  

Today’s gospel calls me to say to you…
What is it you want me to do?  

Today’s gospel calls me to say to you….
What is to you want me to do?  

And as I ask that of you, I’m reminded, by Jesus, that I’m here to be present and to listen.  
I’m not here to answer all the questions, solve all the problems, complete all the tasks…but to create the space for you to say what it is you need…from your pastor…from this community of faith…from Jesus, right now.  

As scary as it is for me to ask this question….what is it you want me to do?, I ask it in the safety of this community, knowing that as I throw off my own cloak of protection and comfort, I am welcomed into a place of support, love, grace, forgiveness and love (worth mentioning twice)…that the cloak of Jesus, that replaces my own is far more comforting and healing then any covering I could try to wrap myself in.  

So, today, wrapped in the cloak of love and grace of Jesus…I ask you, 

What is it you want me to do?  

What is it you want of this community of faith?  

And most importantly, What is it you want Jesus to do for you?  
 
And now may the peace, which surpasses all understanding keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, and let all God’s people shout, AMEN.