The most recent gathering of FaithJustice & Fellowship took place on 10/28/09. Our fellowship started with a delicious soup, courtesy of friend and CFJ "adjunct staff member", Stephanie Harris (and her friend Tom). We then moved into the Chapel for Evening Prayer with our prayer leader, Martha Dudich. Our prayer started with this introduction and reading:
"Listen to the Word of God from the gospel of Matthew.
The lamp of the body is the eye; if therefore your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is distorted, your whole body will be full of darkness. . . . Why do you look at the speck in the eye of your neighbor, but do not notice the plank that is in your own? Or how can you say to your neighbor, “Let me take that speck out of your eye,” when all the time there is a plank in your own? Do not be a hypocrite. First take the plank from your own eye. Then you will see clearly enough to remove the speck from your neighbor. . . . The prophecy of Isaiah is being fulfilled, which says The heart of this people has become dull, and with their ears they scarcely hear, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn to me. But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear."
Martha then offered the following reflection:
"OK, so sometimes I don’t need to look at a calendar or a headline to connect God’s story with my story. Yes, last week it was helpful to consider what was going on in the world and how that shapes the way I operate in the world. This week I pretty much just had to be awake. And that can be a lot harder than it sounds. Whether it’s work or relationships or faith, too many times we can “phone it in” – not so much indifferent as unconscious – and yet we still manage to get things done, still manage to hold onto our friends, still qualify as daughters and sons of God. Just think of the last time you got to your destination and really couldn’t remember the drive. Dangerous on so many levels. Therefore I tend to keep my operating principles simple, particularly when it comes to the spiritual journey: STAY AWAKE and STAY OUT OF THE WAY (and because there will undoubtedly be a few detours, BRING A BOOK AND A SNACK.)
Last weekend I attended a play at McCarter Theater. Actually it was in the smaller Berlind Theater, where there really isn’t a bad seat in the house. Good thing, as I was in the last row. What caught my attention was in the first row. Eight seats across, all of them filled, as was the entire theater. And everyone in the front row was blind. I thought well, maybe it’s about the energies transmitted from the actors from such close proximity. Of course this play only had 2 characters, both women over 100 years old, who rarely moved from a pair of arm chairs center stage. So here was arguably the best view, for those who couldn’t appear to benefit from it.
This Sunday we heard the gospel account of Jesus and Bartimaeus, a blind beggar. Having relayed my experience at the theater several times in the intervening days, I immediately smiled at the coincidence and wondered how the homilist would unpack the story. Alas, he had other topics to discuss, which then compelled me to look at the scriptures again and make my own connections. But not before I brought several other people to mind. Susan, one of my housemates in college, a marvelous soprano, still singing with the Santa Fe Opera Company, who had lost her sight as a premature infant in need of an oxygen tent. Other college friends, Dan and Dave – twin brothers, identical from their virtuosity as organists, composers and poets, to their wicked laughter and sparkling brown, blind eyes. My dear friend Eric, a singer and songwriter, father of five 16-year-olds, whose advancing ALS confines his body to a wheelchair, his breath to a machine. I have witnessed and sadly participated in those moments when the white cane, the wheelchair, even sweet Molly the guide dog have become barriers – preventing connections, inducing awkward conversations – objects that stand in for the person we do not see. When I’m awake and out of the way, I can see tenacity and wit, beauty and bravery, joy and risk and wisdom and imagination: the strong foundation of ordinary lives that has helped support extraordinary circumstances. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked Bartimaeus. Wasn’t it obvious? The man was blind – why would Jesus even have to ask? Of course he wanted his sight back. What else would he want?
But Jesus doesn’t assume that. Yes, the man had a disability, but he was still a force to be reckoned with, capable of defying anxious friends, who just wanted him to sit down and shut up already. Capable of “springing up,” tossing his cloak aside and making his way toward the healer. Try “springing up” with your eyes closed sometime; moving around in darkness is a scary business for most of us.
So yes, he was blind and a beggar. But he still had a life in his community, and he still had spirit and initiative. He could have wanted to talk to Jesus about any number of things. Jesus interacted with the whole person, not just the handicap.
None of us can be fully understood in terms of only one of our attributes. We are all more than even our most visible weakness, just as we are all less than the sum of our strengths. And our fellowship with one another is as whole people, not as walking maladies. When I am awake and out of the way, I recognize that Bartimaeus hints at a life of the mind and spirit we know nothing about. He already knows who Jesus is. “My teacher,” he calls Jesus, whom – presumably – he has never met, as if he were already part of his band. He’s a seasoned traveler on the path to fulfillment while many of us have relegated him to begging at the side of the road.
"What did you go out to see?" Jesus asked the crowds in another gospel narrative, in reference to a popular desert pilgrimage to John the Baptist. They expected a monarch, but God sent a monk. Jesus’ disciples had to be taught how to see. They saw a prostitute groveling at Jesus’ feet; Jesus saw a servant preparing his body for burial. They saw threatening alien forces teaching in Jesus’ name; Jesus saw more hands for the harvest. Jesus saw a woman giving two coins, illustrating the mysterious generosity of Kingdom economics; the disciples would not have seen anything at all if Jesus had not pointed her out.
What do you want me to do for you? Jesus asks me, asks you. Perhaps our answer echoes Bartimaeus: “My teacher, I want to regain my sight.” We need to learn to see the unexpected and unlearn our compulsion to see the expectable, reducing people and possibilities to our limited view. I go to the theater. You call a friend. We come to this place. What do we go out to see? Are we awake and out of the way to all that our loving God will reveal?"
After prayer, we gathered for coffee and conversation!
"Listen to the Word of God from the gospel of Matthew.
The lamp of the body is the eye; if therefore your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is distorted, your whole body will be full of darkness. . . . Why do you look at the speck in the eye of your neighbor, but do not notice the plank that is in your own? Or how can you say to your neighbor, “Let me take that speck out of your eye,” when all the time there is a plank in your own? Do not be a hypocrite. First take the plank from your own eye. Then you will see clearly enough to remove the speck from your neighbor. . . . The prophecy of Isaiah is being fulfilled, which says The heart of this people has become dull, and with their ears they scarcely hear, and they have closed their eyes. Otherwise they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts and turn to me. But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear."
Martha then offered the following reflection:
"OK, so sometimes I don’t need to look at a calendar or a headline to connect God’s story with my story. Yes, last week it was helpful to consider what was going on in the world and how that shapes the way I operate in the world. This week I pretty much just had to be awake. And that can be a lot harder than it sounds. Whether it’s work or relationships or faith, too many times we can “phone it in” – not so much indifferent as unconscious – and yet we still manage to get things done, still manage to hold onto our friends, still qualify as daughters and sons of God. Just think of the last time you got to your destination and really couldn’t remember the drive. Dangerous on so many levels. Therefore I tend to keep my operating principles simple, particularly when it comes to the spiritual journey: STAY AWAKE and STAY OUT OF THE WAY (and because there will undoubtedly be a few detours, BRING A BOOK AND A SNACK.)
Last weekend I attended a play at McCarter Theater. Actually it was in the smaller Berlind Theater, where there really isn’t a bad seat in the house. Good thing, as I was in the last row. What caught my attention was in the first row. Eight seats across, all of them filled, as was the entire theater. And everyone in the front row was blind. I thought well, maybe it’s about the energies transmitted from the actors from such close proximity. Of course this play only had 2 characters, both women over 100 years old, who rarely moved from a pair of arm chairs center stage. So here was arguably the best view, for those who couldn’t appear to benefit from it.
This Sunday we heard the gospel account of Jesus and Bartimaeus, a blind beggar. Having relayed my experience at the theater several times in the intervening days, I immediately smiled at the coincidence and wondered how the homilist would unpack the story. Alas, he had other topics to discuss, which then compelled me to look at the scriptures again and make my own connections. But not before I brought several other people to mind. Susan, one of my housemates in college, a marvelous soprano, still singing with the Santa Fe Opera Company, who had lost her sight as a premature infant in need of an oxygen tent. Other college friends, Dan and Dave – twin brothers, identical from their virtuosity as organists, composers and poets, to their wicked laughter and sparkling brown, blind eyes. My dear friend Eric, a singer and songwriter, father of five 16-year-olds, whose advancing ALS confines his body to a wheelchair, his breath to a machine. I have witnessed and sadly participated in those moments when the white cane, the wheelchair, even sweet Molly the guide dog have become barriers – preventing connections, inducing awkward conversations – objects that stand in for the person we do not see. When I’m awake and out of the way, I can see tenacity and wit, beauty and bravery, joy and risk and wisdom and imagination: the strong foundation of ordinary lives that has helped support extraordinary circumstances. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked Bartimaeus. Wasn’t it obvious? The man was blind – why would Jesus even have to ask? Of course he wanted his sight back. What else would he want?
But Jesus doesn’t assume that. Yes, the man had a disability, but he was still a force to be reckoned with, capable of defying anxious friends, who just wanted him to sit down and shut up already. Capable of “springing up,” tossing his cloak aside and making his way toward the healer. Try “springing up” with your eyes closed sometime; moving around in darkness is a scary business for most of us.
So yes, he was blind and a beggar. But he still had a life in his community, and he still had spirit and initiative. He could have wanted to talk to Jesus about any number of things. Jesus interacted with the whole person, not just the handicap.
None of us can be fully understood in terms of only one of our attributes. We are all more than even our most visible weakness, just as we are all less than the sum of our strengths. And our fellowship with one another is as whole people, not as walking maladies. When I am awake and out of the way, I recognize that Bartimaeus hints at a life of the mind and spirit we know nothing about. He already knows who Jesus is. “My teacher,” he calls Jesus, whom – presumably – he has never met, as if he were already part of his band. He’s a seasoned traveler on the path to fulfillment while many of us have relegated him to begging at the side of the road.
"What did you go out to see?" Jesus asked the crowds in another gospel narrative, in reference to a popular desert pilgrimage to John the Baptist. They expected a monarch, but God sent a monk. Jesus’ disciples had to be taught how to see. They saw a prostitute groveling at Jesus’ feet; Jesus saw a servant preparing his body for burial. They saw threatening alien forces teaching in Jesus’ name; Jesus saw more hands for the harvest. Jesus saw a woman giving two coins, illustrating the mysterious generosity of Kingdom economics; the disciples would not have seen anything at all if Jesus had not pointed her out.
What do you want me to do for you? Jesus asks me, asks you. Perhaps our answer echoes Bartimaeus: “My teacher, I want to regain my sight.” We need to learn to see the unexpected and unlearn our compulsion to see the expectable, reducing people and possibilities to our limited view. I go to the theater. You call a friend. We come to this place. What do we go out to see? Are we awake and out of the way to all that our loving God will reveal?"
After prayer, we gathered for coffee and conversation!
Please consider joining us next week, Wednesday, November 4th in our effort to build a community of faith and justice. We welcome you and your friends. Dinner is at 6:30 PM, prayer at 7:15 PM.
If you'd like to be on the weekly email, please contact us at mail@faithjustice.org. Simply include your name and email address and you'll be all set. Hope to see you soon!
If you'd like to be on the weekly email, please contact us at mail@faithjustice.org. Simply include your name and email address and you'll be all set. Hope to see you soon!
