This sermon was offered at St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Lake City, MN on October 25, 2015. The Gospel text is Mark 10:45-52. Note: I had permission from my friend to share her story.
Healing: We
are not healed in order to be glorified, but we are glorified in order to be
healed. When the healing is complete, the blindness of sin done away, then will
be the manifestation of the Son of God. -Richard Meux Benson, SSJE (1824-1915) Society of Saint John the Evangelist
I have a friend from seminary whose name is
Laura. The first time I saw her, I was
caught off-guard. She was talking loudly
to her companion while they traveled along the hallways of our small campus,
she in her motorized wheel chair.
Every so often I would be in the ladies room
and Laura would come in, with a companion.
I didn’t know her or her story, but she was always loud. She didn’t seem to have any filters, was
uninhibited and immodest and freely expressed her frustration with
accessibility on campus.
Laura is a dwarf. So is her younger sister. They are short, even by dwarf standards. When Laura was born, her parents did all the
things parents do, and they ensured she was immunized. Laura’s little body reacted poorly to those
immunizations and she contracted rheumatoid arthritis. Though she can get around on her feet, it
wears her out, so she uses a wheelchair when away from home. She’d be the first to tell you about her
depression, anxiety disorder, germ phobia, and how she requires assistance
doing some of the most basic things.
Laura’s sister has none of these needs.
My friend has mainstreamed as much as she can
in life, attending a local high school and she lived on her college campus and
now she is studying for her master’s degree.
She lives a life that requires her to advocate for herself, and while
she wants to be treated like most other people, she knows her limitations
require accommodations, like extra time to turn in a paper because typing is
difficult for her arthritic and small hands.
I love Laura!
I got to know her when we realized we live a mile apart and I could help
her save money by bringing her to campus when our schedules allowed. I would drive to her mom’s house where Laura
lives in the lower level, in a kind of suite, where she can have visitors and with
an adapted bathroom that accommodates her size.
She’d walk to my car while I would load her standard wheelchair and she
would climb up a stool to get into the car.
We’d talk all the way to school, and if it was for an evening class,
we’d swing into McDonald’s and she’d buy us dinner from the drive thru.
It was during these talks where I learned
about the complexities of living with a different ability. Laura isn’t against of the word “disabled,”
or even “handicapped,” but I see her more as “differently abled.” I find that a better language choice because
I believe Laura is a wonderful young woman and I don’t want to ever think of
her as less than anyone.
I mentioned that Laura is loud. She has learned to voice her needs in lots of
ways. When she was an undergraduate the
school she attended added a new building to campus. They did not include ramps to get into the
building. They did not have handicap access
buttons to open doors into the restrooms.
What they did have were a number of students who needed these
things. When Laura learned of this
non-compliant, and really, illegal, decision, she went to the powers that be to
voice her opinion. They told her they
could not adjust the plans to include accommodations because they were too
expensive, now that the construction had begun.
Laura hit the roof! She told them they had a number of students they
could have consulted to learn what their needs were so that appropriate plans
could have been designed.
When our seminary was installing new restrooms,
she went to the staff and told them what she needed. She said, “People understand that they need
to install buttons on the exterior doors to help people in wheelchairs enter a
building without assistance. What they don’t
think about is restrooms. Even though I
need assistance in the restroom, others don’t, but they cannot easily get into
a restroom when there isn’t an handicap button.” The seminary installed such access in the
newest restrooms in the facility. For
Laura, it is a small success. The accessible
restrooms are at one end of the building, with heavy doors in the hallway. I don’t remember if those doors have handicap
buttons or not, but if those doors are closed, it makes the accessible
restrooms nearly worthless for an independent, wheelchair bound individual.
In today’s Gospel we learn about the blind
man, Bartimaeus, who lived in a world of darkness. He relied on the help of others to do the
things necessary for daily living, but mostly, he, like others Jesus healed,
lived on a mat on the ground, begging.
I was thinking about his blindness and it
reminded me that many who are blind use other ways to understand the world
around them. I’m sure you have heard
this, too. Hearing is heightened. A sense of touch becomes more acute. The reliance on those senses that are not
hindered creates a new way of understanding the culture and world around us.
Bartimaeus lived in a time when his blindness
made him an outcast. We don’t know his
routine, or who helped him…if anyone did…but we know, through this story that
he was aware of what was happening around him.
So when Jesus came, he knew the significance. He had heard the stories of the miracles
Jesus had performed. He may have
understood the depth of those miracles more intimately because of his own need,
yes, but also because he deeply listened to the nuances of the stories he
heard. He could comprehend the depth of
the healing in ways a sighted person may not.
Then Jesus came walking past. Bartimaeus could nearly touch the excitement
in the crowds around Jesus. I imagine
Bartimaeus was a man who had learned that his voice was his greatest asset to
get the things he needed, and so he used it to call out. “Jesus, son of David! Here I am!
Do not pass me by!” And though he
was a beggar, Bartimaeus did not beg for coins or food. Instead, he begged for mercy. The people around him shushed him,
embarrassed by his outburst, silencing him.
I think of my friend, Laura, who used her
loud voice to advocate for access to a bathroom. She had been silenced in the past when her
college did not provide the necessary ADA access, but she would not let it
happen again.
Bartimaeus yelled again, louder. “Have mercy on me!” It was his persistence that caught the
attention of Jesus. When Jesus invited
Bartimaeus to come to him, Bartimaeus threw off his cloak and sprang up and
came to Jesus. He threw away the only
thing that was protecting him, possibly his only possession, to go to Jesus.
Laura has had to let go of her inhibitions to
allow others to care for her very personal needs. She is vulnerable to the ridicule and the
silencing of others, and yet, she has thrown off that protective bubble,
trusting that her voice will be heard—not only for herself, but for others.
Bartimaeus also let go of his inhibitions,
risking rejection in front of the crowd.
He went to Jesus because he was invited to do so. And Jesus asked him, “What do you need? What can I do for you?” Bartimaeus asked to be able to see
again. Jesus gave him that gift. He gave it without expectation. He did not ask for anything in return. Why? Because
Bartimaeus had already given everything he had when he threw off his
cloak. He came to Jesus, without
anything to weigh him down or distract him.
Bartimaeus was freely giving himself.
Jesus tells him to “Go.” But Bartimaeus instead followed Jesus into
Jerusalem.
Being silenced is no fun. It happens all the time and it can affect
self-esteem, heighten anxiety, and create victims: Victims of abuse, bullying, injustices and
inequality. It can create self-doubt,
trample self-worth and stunt the development of unique, God-given gifts. It can affect an individual and a group, a
community and a society.
Bartimaeus had enough of being silent. Laura has learned that silence only
perpetuates complacency toward creating equitable access. There are times when being silent is no
longer an option; a time when our voices demand to be heard because our dignity
has been compromised too often. A time
when we strip ourselves of our garments, emerging in our vulnerability, and cry
out, “Have mercy on me,” express our needs and follow the One who will supply
them.
Jesus made Bartimaeus well because Bartimaeus
had faith that Jesus would make him well.
It doesn’t always work like this.
That’s why this passage is hard for me.
It hurts me when people give up on God because God did not heal a loved
one the way they wanted. What I think
this passage is all about is being willing to let go of all that possesses us:
mind, body and soul; let go of all that distracts us from receiving the love of
God, so that we can hear Jesus invite us into His life without those
burdens. When we become vulnerable,
exposing the nakedness that has been hidden under our cloak, and we admit we
cannot live without Jesus, it is then we can experience the holy gift of
healing.