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October 31, 2021

On Friday night I saw the Broadway musical “Jagged Little Pill,” which is based on Alanis Morrisette’s 1995 album of the same name.  Many of you know that one of our music scholar alums, Adi, has a key role in the musical. It was wonderful to see him bring his character to life so beautifully.  At the heart of the show is the Healey family. The mother, Mary Jane, works hard to present the family’s life as perfect.  The annual Christmas letter, her Instagram feed, her interactions with other moms – they’re all designed to highlight their family’s success, like son Chris’ recent admission to Harvard.  But all of the bright and shiny pictures hide the true story, which is much more complicated.  It includes Mary Jane’s own addiction to opioids, which become the jagged little pills of the show’s title.  We learn more as the musical unfolds about why Mary Jane has turned to drugs, but to avoid spoilers, I’ll simply say that Mary Jane’s story happens far more often than we realize.

It’s a pointed reminder that we don’t just wear masks on Halloween.  Most of us have some kind of mask that we present to the world, especially when what’s going on inside feels too painful to admit.  We don’t want others to see that pain, whether it’s been inflicted upon us or is of our own making.  We’d prefer to be seen as having it together, being on top of everything.  We’d rather people envy us than pity us.

On this Reformation Sunday we remember how desperately people worried about their souls in Martin Luther’s time.  The people then had their own worries about whether they were measuring up.  Were they good enough to achieve eternal life?  The church of the time tried to sell them salvation in the form of something called indulgences.  Pay a certain price, and you could be guaranteed freedom from the fiery pits of hell.  Pay a little more, and you could liberate your dead relatives too.

What troubled Luther most about this approach was that the church was selling people something that they had already received for free.  He’d studied the Bible carefully; he was a professor of the Bible and had taught it for years.  His reading of the book of Romans, including the passage we heard a few minutes ago, convinced him that it is not about earning, deserving, or buying our way to salvation.  It is faith alone that sets us free from the punishment we would otherwise deserve – faith in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” we hear in Romans.  All.  Every last one of us.  So if it’s about deserving a reward, then we’re all in trouble.  But that verse continues: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by God’s grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.”

Justified – made right and whole – by God’s grace as a gift.  There is no striving, scrambling, buying, earning, selling, bargaining, or negotiating necessary.  The saving love of God requires nothing from us other than to trust that it is with us.

This is what Jesus is talking about in the gospel when he says, “You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”  Jesus is not talking about some abstract truth, something so conceptual that it has no real meaning.  Nor is he talking about an individualistic kind of truth that we mean when we say that someone is “speaking their truth.”  Later in the Gospel of John Jesus will say “I am the way and the truth and the life.”  Jesus himself is the truth. It’s his way of saying, “I have come to set you free from having to measure up.  I love you no matter what, and I want you to live with the freedom to love and care for others – not because you have to, but because you can’t help it.”

There’s a dramatic moment just a few verses before today’s gospel.  A woman has been caught in adultery, and the religious leaders bring her to Jesus.  There are people all around, so it feels like a deliberate attempt to shame the woman and to trap Jesus into saying something that will get him in trouble.  They remind Jesus that the law says the woman must be stoned to death.  They want to know what Jesus says they should do.

Jesus does something strange in that moment.  He bends down and writes something on the ground.  We don’t know exactly what he writes.  I’ve sometimes wondered if he was stalling while he figured out what to say.  But I also wonder what words he might have written there in the dirt.  Grace…truth…freedom.

Eventually Jesus stands up and says to the religious leaders and to everyone gathered there: “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”  One by one the people go away until it’s just Jesus and the woman.  Jesus says to her: “Woman, where are they?  Has no one condemned you?”  She replies, “No one, sir.”  He says: “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”

The people who had gathered, stones in hand, ready to punish this woman – they knew the truth.  The truth that we are all captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.  That’s why it’s so easy to get caught up in judgment – because it turns us away from the harm we have done and fixates on the sin of others.  In that moment Jesus reminds them that we all stand in need of that mercy that only God can give.

What if we really lived into the freedom that Jesus promises?  What if we could set aside our judgments – of ourselves and of each other – and replace those judgments with the assurance that God is with us?  When we rest in the promises of God’s forgiveness and love, it makes us more forgiving and loving – which is something that world needs so much right now.  We need hands that reach out in mercy more than fingers that point in judgment.

Jesus promises that each and every time we celebrate Holy Communion, he is here with us.  He is in the bread and wine, under the bread and wine, with the bread and wine so that we can be sure he is truly present.

In First Communion class we’ve talked about how receiving the love of Jesus is a gift.  It does not depend on what we’ve done that week.  We don’t have to have gotten good grades or scored a goal or been the best version of ourselves in order to receive the sacrament.  We don’t have to wear a mask or pretend that everything is OK.  We simply come forward and receive this gift of grace just as we are.

And then, having received such a gift, we go out carrying Jesus in us.  We pray that the presence of Jesus will give us eyes of compassion with which to see ourselves and others, hearts to love the world, and hands to serve those in need.

We pray this prayer from Martin Luther:

Dearest God and Lord,
strengthen and uphold us
in your pure, precious Word
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
and help us to show and live our thanks
with our fruits of faith
to your praise and thanks[i]

S.D.G. – The Rev. Dr. Christa M. Compton, Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, Chatham, NJ

[i] Martin Luther, translated for A Collection of Prayers from Die Gebete Luthers#195 as found here: https://acollectionofprayers.com/tag/martin-luther/page/2/


October 24, 2021

Jacques Lusseyran was a blind resistance fighter in World War II who wrote about his experiences in a memoir titled And There Was Light.  I learned about him when reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book Learning to Walk in the Dark.[i]  An accident during childhood left Jacques blind at a time when blind people were extremely marginalized.  Doctors urged his parents to send him to a residential school for the blind in Paris, but they chose to keep him at the local public school so that he could learn to function in a seeing world.  His mother learned Braille along with him.  The school principal ordered a special desk for him that would hold his extra equipment.  Most of all Jacques’ parents did not pity him. They did not call him “unfortunate” or bemoan what had happened.  Instead they urged him to cultivate his attention to the world.  Jacques’ father told him: “Always tell us when you discover something.”

Jacques developed an exceptional ability to “see” the world without seeing it.  He could tell the difference among different trees by their sounds, for example.  That sounds impossible at first, but why wouldn’t the leaves of an oak tree sound different from the needles of a pine tree, especially as the wind moves through them?  The oak leaves and the pine needles would feel quite different under your feet.  But you have to notice those differences.  Jacques did notice.

When Jacques was captured by the Nazis in January of 1944 and sent to Buchenwald, at first his anger disoriented him, making him run into walls and trip over furniture.  But he soon realized that no matter what the Nazis tried to do to him, they could not diminish the light within him.  He held on to that light no matter what.

Jacques Lusseyran once wrote that “The seeing do not believe in the blind,” which might be the reason that so many biblical stories show blind people who desperately want to be healed.  In the biblical stories other people often exclude them or pity them or dismiss them.  Reflecting an ancient way of thinking, the Bible often associates physical blindness with spiritual blindness, as if people who can’t literally see also are unable to see God.  That way of thinking even shows up in the beloved hymn “Amazing Grace”: “I once was lost, but now am found/was blind but now I see.”  Being blind equals being lost.  Being able to see again is to be found.

In today’s gospel Bartimaeus pays a price for being a blind person in the ancient world.  He sits beside the road, dependent on what people will give him. The text calls him a blind beggar. He’s outside the city limits, outside of society, outside the realm of economic comfort.

But, like Jacques Lusseyran centuries later, Bartimaeus sees many things quite clearly.  He might see in a different way.  But he sees with purpose and with faith.

Bartimaeus sees that Jesus is the messiah.  Even though Jesus is nothing like what people thought the messiah would be.  Jesus not a military conqueror or a mighty king – at least not in the way people had hoped. And even Jesus’ closest followers haven’t been able to wrap their minds around the kind of messiah that Jesus is.  But somehow Bartimaeus understands that Jesus is the promised one, the anointed one, the one who has come to wield power in unexpected ways.  When Bartimaeus first cries out to Jesus, he says, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”  Son of David.  The title given to the messiah.  A messiah who could be expected to listen and respond when a person cries out for mercy.

How is that you see Jesus?  What would you call him if he were standing in front of you?

Bartimaeus sees that Jesus is the messiah.  Bartimaeus also sees what it takes to follow Jesus.  When the other people finally stop trying to silence him, do you notice what Bartimaeus does?  He throws off his cloak, springs up, and comes to Jesus.  He throws off his cloak.  One of the most valuable possessions in the ancient world, especially to someone who has to beg in order to eat.  The cloak represents warmth at night and dignity during the day and shelter along the way.  But Bartimaeus is willing to leave it behind to go meet Jesus.

In this way Bartimaeus sees more clearly than the wealthy man we heard about a couple of Sundays ago.  You remember him.  The one who wanted so badly to inherit eternal life but was distraught when Jesus told him to sell his possessions.  That man walked away from Jesus altogether.

Bartimaeus has only his cloak, but he shrugs that off before approaching Jesus with his request.

What is your cloak?  What are you willing to leave behind or let go of in order to follow Jesus?

Bartimaeus also sees that it’s better to ask for healing than for status.  Notice that Jesus asks Bartimaeus the same question that Jesus asked his disciples James and John in last week’s gospel.  Jesus asks: “What do you want me to do for you?”  It’s such an open question.  So many possible answers.

Bartimaeus sees more clearly than James or John, who wanted Jesus to give them positions of glory seated on Jesus’ right hand and his left.  Bartimaeus doesn’t ask for power or riches or revenge on the people who have excluded him.  He simply says this: “My teacher, let me see again.”

What would be your answer to that question?  What would you say if Jesus were standing in front of you asking: “What do you want me to do for you?”

When Jesus responds, Bartimaeus doesn’t just regain his sight.  He regains his sight and follows Jesus on the way.  Never mind that the way Jesus is headed is toward Jerusalem, where a cross awaits him.  I suspect Bartimaeus had some sense that what was coming was going to be difficult.  Bartimaeus hadn’t spent his entire life on the margins of society without learning how to recognize danger as it approaches.  And yet he follows Jesus anyway.

The way of Jesus does not lead to safety. It does not lead to wealth or glamor or importance. The way of Jesus does lead to community.  A community where it is OK to speak out loud what you need, what you long for.  A community where status and possessions are not important.  A community where people lead with humility and service.  A community where people seek to see each other – truly see each other – and the gifts that every person can offer.

Perhaps what today’s gospel calls us to do is to see differently.  To trust that in the midst of uncertainty, we can attend to the world and to other people with the same love that we have received from Jesus.  In this way we no longer have to fear the darkness but can know it as a gift.

In the words of Wendell Berry: “To know the dark, go dark.  Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings.”[ii]  Amen.

S.D.G. – The Rev. Dr. Christa M. Compton, Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, Chatham, NJ

[i] See Learning to Walk in the Dark, starting on page 102.

[ii] Ibid., p. 92

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Join the fun this summer as we experience the ride of a lifetime with God!

Rafters will explore how to serve God and God’s mission for their lives. Rolling River Rampage VBS is for children who will be 4 years old by October 1, 2018 with the oldest completing Grade 5 in June.

Monday through Thursday, July 16-19, 9:30 am – 12:15 pm

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