I still am.
Needless to say, Saturday night saw me redoing my sermon for Sunday's supply (subbing at a local church) to talk about it, because how could I not? It is far from the best sermon in the world, and it's much longer than I would normally preach, but... again... I couldn't do otherwise.
And now I need to post this, though I still wish it were better said. I still need to learn to "use my words" better - no doubt that will always be the case - but at least speaking up is a start. Next on my to-do list: figuring out what action must grow out of this.
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Proper 25B
October 28, 2018
USE YOUR WORDS!
Mark 10:46-52
Have you ever been told to shut up? I have… More than once.
And I don’t just mean the times I got put in the corner for talking in gym class in grade school.
I don’t like to be told to shut up. I don’t like feeling as though people want me to shut up, though they are too polite to say so. I don’t like being told to shut up indirectly, either, or to find myself wondering if I am wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak.
All of us, I suspect, have had times where we felt silenced. Maybe at school, maybe at work, maybe at home. Maybe even at church. One would hope not, but, strangely enough, the church is filled with people who need Jesus. Badly. That means us.
Turns out we have a lot in common with Bartimaeus.
Bartimaeus is sitting at the side of the road. He’s probably very familiar with the sounds and senses of that place – the dust, the noise, the footsteps... Many passers-by from Jericho would have known him, too. You know, the blind beggar who always sits in the same spot by the road, hoping for the best… Reminds me of the astonishingly cheerful man who regularly sits near the exit of the Boston Common Parking Garage, calling to those of us who walk by.
So picture the scene, Bartimaeus sitting wrapped in his cloak on the side of the road, a throng passing by, following Jesus, everyone probably talking as they set out on their journey from Jericho…
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!”
Bartimaeus is determined. He has heard what Jesus has done, and he knows Jesus can give him the one thing he most needs. Think of it… If you were Bartimaeus, what would be that one need that would lend urgency to your call, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” We all have a deep need for Jesus’ healing power in our lives.
I suspect every one of us also knows what it is like to have people sternly order us to be quiet in one way or another. And we have also had moments where we are more like those in the crowd trying to hush troublesome, disruptive voices around us – or within ourselves.
Bartimaeus refuses to be silenced. He just will. Not. Shut. Up. He is going to call out to Jesus until he is heard. And heard he is. And that makes him a good model for us. Now, I know good Episcopalians don’t do a lot of shouting, much less shouting to the Lord, much less in church – but there you have it. And Bartimaeus is operating in good biblical tradition. You may have noticed that the Psalms are full not only of praise, but also of lament and anger and questioning, of requests for healing, and of calling out evil. Just like the prophets.
Do we dare do so ourselves?
We’ve seen recently both the cost and the power of speaking up and speaking out. It comes at a price. But we’ve also seen in the #metoo movement that speaking up and sharing what you thought could never be shared empowers not only the one sharing, but also those who are encouraged by that example and freed to speak of their own stories. I remember reading a comment from a woman who said her mother-in-law shared her story of assault for the first time at 85. Eighty five. Decades of silence. Not speaking up also comes at a cost. Speaking up itself can be part of the healing process.
When Bartimaeus is heard – noticed, listened to – called – his words don’t fall into the air – they effect a change. Already. Just being noticed and heard must have been strengthening.
Mark says, “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.”
Both our voices and our silences are more powerful than we imagine, and therefore the words we choose are powerful as well. How are we speaking up, either for ourselves or for others? What is the effect of our voice? It will have one. What is the effect of our silence? That, too, has an effect. This is all the more true now that the internet has given a voice to anyone with access. Which voices are the loudest?
Yesterday we were all appalled by the news of the eleven people killed in the synagogue as they were celebrating the naming of a new baby. The murderer, who shouted “All Jews must die!” had spent a lot of time on websites promoting Nazi views. The same was true of the young man who killed most of the prayer group at the church in Charleston. They listened to and participated in discussions the like of which would turn your stomach. Yesterday’s atrocity did not come out of thin air, but was encouraged by others. Some of them even wrote approvingly following yesterday’s news. This is a different set of voices -- voices that must not be allowed to spew hatred more loudly than the rest of us call out a different vision. Hate speech must not have the last word. Truth and justice and mercy must be proclaimed more loudly than conspiracy theories. We need to call out for mercy for others as well as for ourselves. We need healing so badly as a nation, and as a world. Unfortunately, we as individuals, and historically, as a church, have a dubious track record. In the past few years, anti-Semitic incidents have been on a sharp increase. I’d heard of it from a friend at the Duxbury Interfaith Council, but I didn’t know until yesterday that they had increased over 50%. Though Jews make up only 2% of the US population, they are the targets of 50% of the religious hate crimes. Most of these are committed by people who call themselves Christians – and somehow have completely missed the fact that Jesus was Jewish. As were all the apostles. You all, if we are going to call ourselves disciples of Jesus, we cannot allow his family to be targeted and stand silently by while listening to voices of hate.
It’s worth praying with this gospel passage this week. We can find ourselves in all the characters at different moments. When are we crying out for Jesus, for healing and life? When are we using our voices to silence others as the members of the crowd around Bartimaeus did? Do we have the courage to listen to voices, to stories that make us uncomfortable? At what moment are we like those in the crowd who helped Bartimaeus get to Jesus when Jesus called out to him? Whose voices are we amplifying? To whom are we saying, “speak up”?
My youngest sister is a physics teacher with quite a sense of humor. She teases her students – and herself – by saying, “Use your WORDS.” It’s funny…most of the time… and it’s also something we take a lifetime to learn. Words kill and words bring to life. We have the opportunity – in fact, we have the mandate – to participate in Jesus’ ministry of healing. This growing antisemitism is something we all need to cry out about - and work towards healing this hatred and all like it.
So, in a nutshell, we need to remind ourselves from time to time to USE OUR WORDS and to use them well.
Speak up. Dare to speak up for yourself, to tell your own stories – and to speak up for others. Let others speak up, too, instead of hushing uncomfortable, even disruptive voices. Move aside as you need to, as the crowd finally did for Bartimaeus, or, better yet, amplify the voices of those in need who cry out for healing. Listen carefully, taking voices seriously. At the same time, consider whether the voices you spend time listening to are bringing healing or sowing hatred. The Lord has given us a voice and a mind and a heart to use in the ministry to which we are called. Finally, pray. Prayer is powerful. Lift up your voice to the Lord. Like Bartimaeus, call out for mercy to the Son of David for yourself and on behalf of others and of our world. And then praise God for the healing power that will have the final word through God’s gift of himself in the person of Jesus Christ. Amen.
