Sermon: Sunday, October 25, 2009 - Mark 10:46-52

Sermon: Sunday, October 25, 2009 - Mark10:46-52

I was born on a ranch near Colorado City, Texas, which is about 65 miles west of Abilene, and I grew up there. You’d never know it today, but in the 1950’s, it was a busy place where it was hard to find a parking place downtown, especially on a Saturday. And I was downtown on most Saturdays, because I wanted to be at the Palace Theater for the matinee, which always included cartoons and sometimes serials. Plus, the Palace was air conditioned one of the few buildings in town that boasted such a convenience in those days, so it was a great place to be. I would pay my 20 cents entrance fee and then spend my extra dime on candy – usually a giant butterfinger bar – and settle in for the afternoon.

I remember many things about that movie theater, like how gooey the floor was, but I particularly remember it because it was there that I saw my first horror picture. I went that day with Reggie Noble and Skipper Warren, and I think the movie was called “Attack of the Giant Scorpions.” Anyway, it scared me badly, especially when one of the scorpions, which had become giants because of atomic bomb tests (naturally), grabbed a lineman off a phone pole and stung him to death before my horrified eyes. I didn’t sleep for about a week.

I liked most things about downtown on a Saturday except the man who was always there between the movie theatre and the Ben Franklin store. He stood rattling coins in a tin cup, his half-closed eyes showing filmy whiteness that gave me the creeps. He was not quite as scary as the giant scorpions, but he unnerved me, and I hurried on by him, always having the irrational fear that he was going to reach out and grab me.

Then, one Saturday, the blind man was gone. I never saw him again.

At the time I didn’t know the story about Bartimaeus the blind man cured by Jesus. If I had, perhaps I would have had a little more understanding of the blind man on the sidewalk in Colorado City. Maybe I could have regarded him with compassion instead of fear.

Jericho was also a busy place; a good place for a blind beggar. The crowds went back and forth, and Bartimaeus sat in his usual place, begging for coins, just as he had done for many years. No doubt he was pretty much invisible to those who passed by every day. He was part of the landscape, not even worth noticing. Perhaps those who did stop and drop him a coin thought that it was money wasted, because, after all, nothing would ever change.

I don’t know how Bartimaeus felt. Perhaps he, too, thought that nothing would ever change, or perhaps there was still some unspoken hope inside him.

When the noisy crowd came down the road, Bartimaeus knew that Jesus was in the midst of it. No doubt he had heard stories about the healing rabbi who was creating such a sensation. Perhaps he heard people around him talking and speculating about Jesus.

And suddenly that wisp of a hope blooms inside Bartimaeus, and he begins to shout and scream and make a scene. People around him tell him to be quiet, but he won’t be silent, because he knows that more than anything in the world he wants to see, and this – however slim – is his one chance. He doesn’t act in the humble manner appropriate for a beggar. He wants the attention of this man whom he gives the Messianic title Son of David.

And like so many of the healing stories and parables about Jesus this one, too, is filled with irony. Jesus has been trying to make the disciples, his closest followers and truest believers, understand who he is, but they just don’t get it. Last week in the readings from Scripture, after Jesus had spent his time telling the disciples that he came not to be served but to serve and not to be king but to suffer and die, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, come to him and ask to sit it his right hand and his left hand. They just don’t get it.

But Bartimaeus gets it. Here down the road comes the real deal, and this blind man sees him when those all around him cannot see who he really is.

I’ll bet that after his healing, Bartimaeus never took his vision for granted. I’ll bet he saw every face and every leaf on every tree, and I’ll bet he was never blind to blind beggars as the crowds had been to him.

This story always makes me think about how little I really see. I don’t see the poor along the city streets; there is too much of interest that catches my eye instead. I don’t see the people around me for who they really are; I just see them for who I think they are. I don’t even see the beauty of the world around me, because I am usually in a hurry, or late, or worried about something that ultimately is of no consequence. And most seriously of all, I don’t see Jesus, who is always in my sight in the guise of friends and strangers and all of creation.

I do think about that blind man in Colorado City who patrolled that portion of the pavement between the Palace Theater and the Ben Franklin store, counting the parking meters as he went to know where he was. I particularly think about him as I have now developed macular degeneration and am experiencing gradually diminishing sight. My prayer is that as my vision gets worse, my ability to see Jesus Christ my Savior in his many guises will become clearer.

Article - Traditional Anglicans want to join Roman Catholic Church

Traditional Anglicans want to join Catholic Church
By Nicole Winfield and Rohan Sullivan Associated Press
Mar 9, 2009 - 5:26:47 PM

Dispute over ordination of women, other liberal trends caused Anglican split almost 20 years ago

VATICAN CITY — The Vatican is considering welcoming into the Roman Catholic Church a group of traditional Anglicans who broke away from the global Anglican Communion nearly two decades ago over women’s ordination and other issues, officials say.

Vatican officials stress that no decision has been made and no announcement is imminent. Still, Anglicans across the spectrum of belief are closely watching for any signs of movement.

Absorbing the breakaway Traditional Anglican Communion would be a small but notable victory for Pope Benedict XVI, who has made unifying Christians a goal of his papacy.

At the same time, any invitation by the Vatican is likely to upset leaders of the 77 million-member Anglican Communion and would hurt the Vatican’s decades-long efforts to strengthen ties with that fellowship of churches. Anglicans split with Rome in 1534 when English King Henry VIII was refused a marriage annulment.

The Traditional Anglican Communion formed in 1990 as an association of orthodox Anglicans concerned about what they considered the liberal tilt in Anglican churches, including the ordination of women. Members of the group are generally Anglo-Catholic, emphasizing continuity with Catholic tradition and the importance of the sacraments. The fellowship says it has spread to 41 countries and has 400,000 members, although only about half are regular churchgoers.

The traditional group aims to unify the Anglican and Catholic churches, according to Archbishop John Hepworth of Australia, who is the leader, or primate, of the Traditional Anglican Communion. They have accepted the ministry of the pope, but also want to maintain their Anglican traditions — one of several potential impediments to unification.

“We seek a communal and ecclesial way of being Anglican Catholics in communion with the Holy See,” the group wrote, in a letter Hepworth presented two years ago to the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.

The head of that Vatican office, Cardinal William Levada, wrote Hepworth in July 2008, saying he was giving “serious attention” to the Traditional Anglicans’ proposal. But he noted that the situation within the broader Anglican Communion, with which the Vatican has an official dialogue, had “become markedly more complex.” The Anglican Communion is on the brink of schism because of internal rifts over how it should interpret what the Bible says about gay relationships and other issues.

Hepworth has called the letter a sign of “warmth and encouragement,” and the traditional Anglicans posted the note on their Web site. But Monsignor Marc Langham, who is in charge of Anglican relations at the Vatican’s Pontifical Council for Christian Unity, said that Levada’s letter was a “standard Vatican holding letter” and suggested interpreting it with caution.

“It’s very easy to turn expectation and hope into hard fact,” Langham said in a recent phone interview.

The Vatican spokesman, the Rev. Federico Lombardi, confirmed that the traditional Anglican group and the Vatican have been in contact for some time and would continue to talk.

“Their request has been taken into consideration,” he said. But he dismissed as “absolutely unfounded” reports in the Australian media that a decision on welcoming the Traditional Anglicans was near.

Benedict’s recent efforts to bring together Christians has hit many obstacles.

In January, he lifted the excommunications of four bishops of the traditionalist Society of St. Pius X, which broke from Rome because of its opposition to the liberalizing reforms of the Second Vatican Council. That decision sparked a public outcry since one of the four bishops denied that 6 million Jews were killed during the Holocaust.

Separately, progress between the Vatican and the Anglican Communion has stalled because of the same issues that have fractured the fellowship itself: women priests and bishops, the ordination of bishops in same-sex relationships and the recognition of same-sex unions.

The Traditional Anglican Communion opposes those trends as well.

Still, Langham, of the Vatican, said it was “unlikely” that there would be a mass conversion of traditional Anglicans into the Catholic Church.

“Conversion is an individual process,” he said. “In our congregation, we would have trouble with that concept.”

As an example of the many outstanding unresolved issues, he noted that Hepworth, a bishop, has been married. “There are various problems with this, not least the tradition of married bishops is alien to the Latin rite,” he said.

Yet, the Vatican has made no secret of its willingness to welcome into its fold Anglicans who want to convert, even married Anglican priests. After the Church of England voted to ordain women in 1992, several hundred Anglican priests defected to Catholicism.

“Rome will continue talking, it’s not going to turn anybody away,” noted Simon Barrow, co-director of the British-based religion think tank Ekklesia. “But on the other hand it’s going to be extremely cautious about a group of people who want to enter but with reservations.”

Associated Press Writer Rohan Sullivan reported from Sydney, Australia.

On the Net: Traditional Anglican Coalition newspaper: www.themessenger.com.au