Silencing of Bartimaeus

Sermon Oct 25 2015 from Heather Rodenborg on Vimeo.

Below is my sermon text based upon Mark 10:46-52

Mark 10:46-52

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. When he 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, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do ou 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 he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

There is a lot going on in this scripture this morning. You have Bartimaeus who is blind and the only source of income he has is from begging. You have Jesus who is gaining followers and clout because of his teachings and the miracles that he is performing. You have the disciples who have been following Jesus. And then you have the crowd, the many, who are following Jesus.

            Bartimaeus heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth who was approaching and passing by. We aren’t told what it was that he had heard about him, but it was enough for him to shout out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” We can only assume that Bartimaeus had heard the stories of Jesus, he had heard about the miracles that he was performing throughout the land, and had faith that this was that Jesus. He couldn’t see him, he didn’t know what he looked like, but he heard that it was him and had faith in Jesus. I can only imagine what he was probably feeling and thinking, but it was probably something to the effect of, “This is my chance. This could be the man I heard about. This could be the one who has healed others. This is my moment to meet him, to talk to him. I have to do something!” And Bartimaeus did something, he shouted out to Jesus, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

            When Bartimaeus shouted out to Jesus; however, he upset the homeostasis of the crowd. Then the “many,” whomever they were, they didn’t just tell Bartimaeus to be quiet but they “sternly” ordered him to be quiet. Did they do this because he was blind? Did they do this because he was an outcast? Did they do this because he was a beggar living on the margins of society? I would guess it was because of all of these. They wanted to silence Bartimaeus. They didn’t want him interrupting Jesus, they wanted him to be quiet and remain in his place.

            Why? Because this is what we do. We keep silent, and we urge others to the same. We keep silent because it would require taking a risk. We risk rejection, we risk confrontation. Every day we engage in conversations in which we weigh the risks of what we say or what we ask. I’ve sat with families in the ICU in which family members have disagreed regarding the plan of care for their family members. Some have disagreed and/or had questions about the extent of treatment they should allow to take place. Others have been afraid to ask the doctor questions because they don’t understand the treatment. And others have wondered, silently, whether they were doing the right thing for their family member. They have remained silent because of the fear of rejection and/or risk that they take in asking questions; engaging in conversation. In this, they are allowing their fear to silence them. We can’t let our fear win. We can’t let our fear silence us.

We also can’t be those in the scripture who were trying to silence Bartimaeus. When we force others to remain quiet because it could cause us to become uncomfortable, we silence their voice, and we reject them and their experience. Those that were trying to silence Bartimaeus that day, were rejecting him and his experience. This type of rejection continues to take place today in our society. I’ve seen the voices of those without homes being silenced, voices of young people of color who are being silenced, and the voices of women being silenced.

I can’t tell you the number of veterans who I have spoken with who have felt like their voices were being silenced. My father-in-law, for example, fought in Vietnam. Many veterans, such as himself, had their voices silenced by the public when they came back. They didn’t feel supported because they fought in a war in which our country lost. People didn’t want to listen to their experiences.

Take a moment and think about the ways we silence one another, even when we don’t intend it. In group therapy, for example, I know a few counselors who don’t allow kleenexes to be passed to the person who is crying. The reason for this is simple. By giving a person who is crying kleenexes, we are telling them to clean up their tears. Tears make people uncomfortable, but it’s a normal human reaction to pain and suffering. In letting tears falls, we honor the tears and honor the person.

But it’s not just limited to tears, look at the way our society handles grief. When you lose a family member, you are lucky to even receive one week off for bereavement. After that week, your employer expects you to come back to work and not be grieving anymore. Your grief is being silenced. And even in that, we don’t speak about it because we often silence ourselves.

The way in which we solve silencing ourselves and others is realizing our worthiness. But realizing our worthiness isn’t always easy. The greatest challenge for most of us is believing that we are worthy right now. We can’t believe this because we set unrealistic goals for ourselves. We believe we will be worthy once we have lost 15 pounds. We will be worthy once we become and stay sober. We will be worth once we get that dream job. We will be worthy once we are able to hold our marriage together. Or,we will be worthy once our parents finally approve. This is not the way in which God works. This isn’t the way in which God measures our worthiness.

We are worthy because God loves us unconditionally. Bartimaeus knew his worthiness, he knew he was loved by God, and he didn’t let those around him that day silence him. He had faith and courage that day to call out to Jesus. And in his calling out to Jesus and overcoming fear and silencing, he made everyone around him a little bit better and the world a little bit braver. And he allowed Jesus to use him for something bigger and better then he would have ever imagined.

Be a Bartimaeus, overcome whatever fears maybe silencing you. Overcome anyone who maybe silencing you. End the silencing of others. In doing so, you will become a little bit better and make the world a little bit braver.

Amen.

God Heard

Sermon October 18 2015 from Heather Rodenborg on Vimeo.

Devotional for Chapel on 10/18/15.

Hebrews 5:1-10

Every high priest chosen from among mortals is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people. And one does not presume to take this honor, but takes it only when called by God, just as Aaron was. So also Christ did not glorify himself in becoming a high priest, but was appointed by the one who said to him, “You are my Son, today I have begotten you”; as he says also in another place, “You are a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek.” In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, having been designated by God a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek.”

When you pray, do you ever feel like no one is listening? Have you ever sat pray feeling like your words were just drifting off unheard? Here in the hospital, prayers are said daily. There are prayers for healing to take place for someone who is ill, prayers for comfort for families who have lost a family member, prayers of thanksgiving for those celebrating a new life, and sometimes just prayers to make it through the day. I have heard people question whether or not their prayers have been heard, or even wonder why they aren’t being answered. Are our prayers just empty words floating off into the world unheard?

I remember at a young age going to church and being taught that we need to pray each day to God. In our prayers, I was told that I needed to ask for forgiveness. In asking for forgiveness from God then I could ask God for the things that I needed. The church taught this was biblical because Jesus said in Matthew 7:7, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” And if the bible says that all we have to do is ask and we will receive, well then my prayers will be heard and answered, right? I don’t know about you, but I have a lot of prayers that feel like they have gone unheard and unanswered. I remember in high school the more simple prayers, “God help me pass this test,” or “God help me get an A in math.” That didn’t always happen. Then when I was 20, I remember sitting next to my dad in the hospital. I remember praying over and over for God to heal him, praying for God to bring him back to us from his accident. When my dad died, I felt like God didn’t hear me. I felt like God was ignoring my prayers. I questioned God about this. Why God didn’t you hear me and answer my prayers for my dad, he was a good man. He went to church, he loved his neighbors, he did everything right. Where my prayers not heard?

Jesus did everything right. Jesus was both fully human and fully divine. We read in the bible the stories of him walking with the people, healing them, teaching them, and loving them. Jesus was a man without sin; yet even his prayers went unanswered. We read about him in the garden on the night of his arrest, “God not my will but yours be done.” Jesus didn’t want to die on the cross. Jesus even cried out on the cross, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me.” Where Jesus’ prayers not heard?

 These questions of whether or not we are heard, or if Jesus was heard, are found in our scripture this morning. More precisely in Hebrews 5:7, “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.” It doesn’t say that Jesus’ prayers were answered; it says that he was heard. God heard Jesus’ loud cries. God heard Jesus’ tears. Jesus’ prayers didn’t go unheard; God heard every single one of them.

  Reading that God heard Jesus prayers gives me hope. Yes, his prayers weren’t answered, but God isn’t a genie who grants wishes. God is our creator who hears the cries and prayers of all of us. In God’s hearing, God acknowledges our existence. Our cries, our prayers, bring voice to the pain we are suffering through. They bring voice to the struggles that we are trying to overcome. They bring voice to the grief that is weighing heavy on our hearts.

As a chaplain, I’ve learned to listen to both the said and unsaid. There have been many times when I have asked someone “How are you today,” to those in my presence and received the response of, “I’m doing good.” This is a common polite interaction that many of us do multiple times daily with friends, family, and co-workers. However, I’ve learned to read people and listen for the unsaid. The other day when I posed this to friend, she responded with a polite, “Doing good.” I could tell she didn’t look good, she looked tired. I said to her, “I don’t know if I believe that because you look tired to me.” In acknowledging the unsaid, she broke down. She shared with me everything that was going on her life. When she was done, she thanked me for listening. The only thing that I could do for her in that moment was to listen. I couldn’t solve her suffering. I couldn’t even provide her with any ideas on how to manage everything. All I could do was listen and tell her that I would be holding her in prayer. In listening to her, I acknowledged her pain and suffering that she was going through. That is what God does with us.

God listens to everything we lift up, whether is be in joy or sorrow. God acknowledges our cries, our pain, and our suffering just as God did with Jesus. It’s okay to cry out in pain and anger to God, and it’s okay to unload all our worries and fears to God. God can handle it all, and God will hear it all. God says to us, “Speak my beloved child, for I am listening.”

Amen

Letting Go

One of the great privileges of my job is getting to be present at the end of life. I have been a part of and been a witness to over 100 deaths. At all there are tears shed, sometimes in joy over a life long lived, sometimes in pain over a life cut short. Each of these moments are sacred. Each of these moments are holy.

The other day I was present at a death that I will never forget. This patient had no family, there was no one in the room, no one to call to hold a hand, and no one to shed a tear when a last breath was taken. No one, except for me. As this person's heart rate started to drop, I held a frail hand, looked into this person eyes, and said to them that it was okay to let go. It that moment, time stood still, God was present, a last breath was taken, and a soul was set free. In that moment, the vail between this world and the next was lowered.

I share this because sometimes I think that we get so caught up in the world around us that we forget that we are all the same. I didn't know this person, I didn't know their story, and they didn't know me. However, we were connected. We were connected in our joint humanity. We filled our lungs with the same air, we filled the same room with our presence, and we were created by the same Creator. I let go, in that moment, who I was in order to be present with this person. I let go of my judgement, I let go of my to do list, I let go my personal space to share in that moment.

It's so easy to get caught up in the things of this world that we forget that we are part of something so much bigger. We are part of something bigger then our jobs, our money, our possessions, our identity, our sexuality, and our titles. We are part of creation, we are the created and the creating. We are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God. We are made perfectly and loved perfectly by our Creator. Who we are, every single one of us, is connected.

Stop what you are doing right now and look around you. Look at the people around you, look at them closely. What do you notice? What do you see? They too are made in the image of God, just like you. They too are breathing the same air that you are breathing. They too are probably struggling with something right now just like you. Their humanity, is connected with your humanity. They are loved by their Creator, just like you are loved by your Creator.

Rejoice in it! Celebrate it! Let everything go, and dance in it.
We only get one life, so be present in it.