Amazed and Afraid? Same.

This week’s sacred story comes from Mark 10:32-52 where Jesus asks different people “what do you want me to do for you?” and gets two very different responses. The disciples struggle to “get it", a blind man with an interesting name is given sight and shows us a thing or two about who and how God is. It brings up questions of our own.

Read the full story here.

When we gather for house church once a month and for Wednesday morning bread-baking and prayer, we read scripture and the first question we ask is: what stood out to you from the text?  What springs up from the page? What words or images are sticking to your sides and stirring in your soul? What lingers in your heart?

Two words from the very first verse keep ringing in my ears:  “amazed and afraid.” While they are still “along the way”- not where they were before but not yet where they are going, and actually not entirely understanding of where they are going…they are amazed and afraid.

Those walking with Jesus…toward this big powerful city with its impenetrable walls and impressive temples, the place where headlines are made, where Jesus keeps telling them this road leads – to suffering and death but also resurrection – they are amazed but also afraid.  Those who are traveling alongside Christ have seen him perform marvelous signs, heal impossible illness, lift up those that others push down, and care for the ones living in the corners of society that are abandoned in the name of majority rules...they are amazed and afraid. Finding yourself in the shadow of something that seemed far off or impossible often brings about this experience of both amazement and fear.

When we first dreamt of what kind of community could exist here, before +KINDRED even had a name, all it had was hope. But alongside that was the terrifying truth that a million things could get in the way of that hope being realized. I was both amazed and afraid. Moving to a new place or starting a new job can be thrilling and also daunting. The advancement of technology, medicine, and science is incredible and inspiring AND a bit nerve-wracking.  Being a parent is a constant experience in being both amazed and afraid. Hearing and experiencing from God that I am beloved – both liberated by and bound to this divine family of love - included and essential to the work of redemption for the world, which only offers with certainty a way of disruption and discomfort on the way to resurrection…well…it is amazing and terrifying.

This combination can sometimes bring out my most brave and generous self. It can also bring out my most misguided and manipulative habits.

James and John respond by approaching Jesus , saying, “hey, will you do us a favor?”  You know the kind where you try to get the person to say yes before they even know what it is? Because if they knew in advance you know they might not agree to it?

Jesus responds, “what is it you want me to do for you?” and now the cloak must come off and the cards must be placed on the table. They want to sit on Jesus’ right and left – what are considered the “best” seats in the house, the traditional places of power, those who have the greatest access and influence. But these spots also offer all the perks and prestige that such proximity provides - positions of honor and glory right up front for everyone to see how great they are.

Jesus clarifies once again how God defines glory and what those seats are really like in this very different kind of Kingdom that God is bringing. Jesus double checks if that’s what they are really asking for. They want seats, but Jesus wants them to see.  James and John cannot see that this impending road is not a star-studded destination, but a way of service and sacrifice Its wayposts are not coercion or control but caring and connection. They cannot see that Jesus has come not to lift up a few, but all, especially those unseen and silenced.

James and John are ambitious and it is not their ambition that Jesus has a problem with. But he redirects their ambition to match the Kingdom, as opposed to their own glory. They still don’t understand what this is all about.  They still can’t really wrap their minds around what it means. What they can’t see is the irony is that those seats of honor are already taken and they will belong to two criminals executed alongside Jesus on the cross, one on his right and one on his left. And yet, their journey together continues. Jesus doesn’t cast them out, but keeps them close to continue walking together.

Along the way, at a little pit stop in Jericho, there sits a blind man…a beggar..Bartimaeus – whose name can be literally translated to mean “son of the impure, the defiled” or “son of honor and value.” He is outside the main stream of travelers, sitting at the side, out of the corner of their eye, and he…he shouts for the Son of David, the rightful heir to a particular throne. In a land ruled by another, he shouts a treasonous hope for a new system, one marked by mercy.

As if to prove their lack of understanding, the followers of Jesus try to hush this man. Perhaps they are amazed at his audacity, demanding to be heard and seen, taking up precious time and energy they feel is better spent elsewhere. Perhaps they are thinking – healing is great and all but we simply don’t have the time because we’re on the way to righteousness…as if this is somehow outside of that.  Or…we’re very sorry that you’re struggling, but the application period for healing is closed - there’s a right and proper way to go about this you’ll need to meet our requirements. Or perhaps they are afraid because what he is saying is truly dangerous & seditious. They know the consequence to claiming the authority of anyone other than Caesar. Perhaps their efforts are a fearful sense of “be quiet or you’ll get us all killed.” But like many cries for justice that are told to quiet down, the result is only louder, more insistent, and more disruptive voices.

All this happens at a small stop along the way. I wonder…How often do we overlook the actually important moments of life in favor of what we think should be important? Those brief encounters before worship or in the kitchen afterward, the person we bump into at the grocery store or on the bus, the fast food clerk handing us our order or the busser asking us if we’re done with that plate. It seems that life often gets its greatest significance from the “pit stops” and sometimes the most inconvenient interruption can be transformative and life changing. And if now isn't a good time to seek healing and mercy, then when is?

Jesus stops and calls for connection.  Perhaps it is the very same people who were trying to minimize this man, who are now called to be a part of clearing a way for him, bringing him front and center. Their voices are changed from minimization to amplification, to hope and empowerment. It energizes and animates Bartimaeus, this son of both outsider and honor. The one described as blind can see exactly who Jesus is and understands what hope and mercy really mean.  Perhaps it is he who will show the others.

Jesus asks again, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus does not ask for glory, but mercy.  He asks not for power nor pity, but justice and liberation. He asks for vision in a way that is visionary, giving clearer sight to all those who are witnessing this thing. Jesus declares him healed, whole on account of faith, and tells him to go. Instead, he finds himself caught up in this way forward and follows. Now he has joined this group of travelers heading toward Jerusalem.

I wonder…What keeps us from seeing, from understanding who and how God is? What keeps us from seeing what God is doing in us and our communities to prepare us for death and resurrection?

What is trying to keep us silenced or hidden? Where do we need to have our sight restored?

In the next week or so, the official U. S. Census will begin arriving to most of us by mail. This short survey creates a picture of who counts in this country and informs how our systems, our resources and energy will be organized and accessed.  The information gathered is used to direct our collective programs (like SNAP and CHIP, education and political power). In theory these benefit those often left metaphorically and literally by the roadside, but ironically and tragically they are also often the most undercounted. People who are poor, immigrants, young people, people of color, and LGBTQ folks are the most undercounted populations in the census. There are plenty of seats of power who would prefer that certain voices be silent and poor people kept on the sidelines. There are crowds who want to pretend like you don’t exist. And so, standing up and shouting out to be heard and seen can make us both amazed and afraid, but it puts us in good company.

Perhaps being healed and whole is about our ability to be seen as much as it is our ability to see…not just with our eyes but with our hearts. Perhaps transformation comes not only at the end but along the way. Perhaps our hope comes through the assurance but also the challenge of understanding that those ways of life-giving life that inspire us to keep going… they don’t happen by magic.  They happen because people show up and get involved – showing up not to be seen and glorified but to serve and amplify. God uses people to change the conversation and pursue new ways of being, to call each other forward. Perhaps mercy is to be found not only among the stereotypically powerful, but in the small mercies each day – stopping to carry someone else’s plate or to linger a bit longer and hear that story that someone needs to share, picking up a pack of underwear at the store or sharing your stockpile of purell and toilet paper – SOMEBODY has to have that stuff.

None of this promises to remove the weight from the cup that Jesus drinks, the depth of those baptismal waters, the sharp edges of the rocks from the road, or the fear from our hearts. But perhaps resurrection means being afraid and doing it anyway. We aren’t called to be without fear, but to follow the one who has amazed us by what it is to be truly alive. Amen.