On discipleship and being on the margins.
Ordinary Sunday 30: October 29, 2000.
John Davis, Vicar of St Peter's, Eastern Hill
And they called the blind man, saying to him, 'Take heart; rise, he is calling you'. Mk 10:49.
It is possible to attempt to clear away much detail and to come to some basic imperatives in the gospel. The Lord said when pressed that the whole of the law and the prophets could be reduced to a summary of two: love God and love neighbour. To many who were searching and asking, he simply said: 'Follow me'. To some he said, 'change your ways'. To another he said, 'get rid of your worldly goods'. To others: make good what you have stolen, or correct an injustice done. In order to move on, some people needed less baggage to carry. The way of discipleship was presented as a way to travel in this life; a way to travel from that which or where we presently are to something better.
Discipleship was and is a journey. The Way. That is both the road and the manner of moving along it. It is a description given to Christianity before it was called Christianity. Christians were called 'followers of the Way'. Jesus of course in St John's account had said the he himself was the way, the truth and the life. The way of discipleship was presented as the way to a life not only richer in the present but that was also eternal. In the Scriptures this is all summed up in a sense of call and response - 'he is calling you'.
The Scriptures are really two extended and interwoven stories. One is the story of God and the other is the story of the people of God. Church history very largely relates to the second. Our continuing prayer and worship and service is again a mixture of the two, at least in part a response to the call of one to the other.
Our lives and our awareness of those who have gone before us means that we know or know of very many people who would be able to be called followers of Jesus: people who have responded to that sense of call; disciples. Next Wednesday and Thursday on All Saints' and All Souls', we will be honouring them specifically. We come up against them all the time. The challenge is to remember and recognise that they, like us, are real flesh and blood. They were not so far removed from the realities and pressures of being a human person as to be of no use.
So we hear about disciples of that first generation - people like Peter or Thomas or Mary Magdalene - as challenged as any of us. Then there is someone like today's blind Bartimaeus, right on the edge. And we also hear of those who attempted to be followers of Jesus of Nazareth in every succeeding generation right up to the present.
We are not assured that they were perfect or that they understood everything absolutely clearly. In fact the more flawed or lively these people are seen to be, the more accessible they are as potential role models or encouragers for the rest of us. Most of us would probably be prepared to say that we are in some way or another attempting to respond to the fact of God, or at the very least the proposition of God, and thus to grow in the spiritual life. We do this in a context. The message is clear. God loves us and indeed all of the created order. We are loved for what we are and for what we might be. We are loved for how we love and how we might yet love. And we are in this together.
What is presented then when we are asked to consider Christian discipleship is not so much a situation happily arrived at or a state of static holy perfection, but rather a renewed life direction and approach; something characterised by refreshed and renewed attitudes to self, to God and to others. This discipleship is something that continues to travel, to grow and to move. A rich and fulfilling response then to the challenge to 'love God and love neighbour' and to follow, can take as many forms as there are people.
Bartimaeus is one more example of people on the edge getting access or indeed showing more insight and appreciation than those at the centre. This is a continuing theme. For those who would characterise Christianity as the religion of the comfortable and the complacent, this does not sit easily. There are so many gospel incidents that give preferential emphasis to those on the margins, to those whose way of life was in no way respectable that one begins to wonder about the social credentials of the Lord himself. God is the God of all.
It is not always that easy. There are parts of the Scriptures that are anything but inclusive. This last week for instance in the daily office readings from Ezra we had God's reported thorough going endorsement of the casting off of all wives and children that were not ethnically pure, after the return from the Exile. The misery that is covered over in a few short verses is devastating. This can be placed alongside the Law's demands that the needs of the stranger, the foreigner and the slave be always taken into account.
But the situation is clearer in the gospel narratives. And in the latter parts of the New Testament, God's grace is seen to burst out utterly from any geographical, ethnic or social class constraints. In the Lord's teachings, Samaritans, Syro-Phonecians, Romans and Greeks as well as the Children of Abraham are decisively presented as role models. And they were not all centurions or civic officials. Examples abound: the woman caught in the act of adultery or the woman at the well with five husbands; a corrupt tax collector, numerous beggars and not to mention those marginalised by illness or disability. All of these are given as examples of those more evidently in receipt of God's grace than those at the so-called centre.
There is a message here. It is at least two fold. God in Jesus Christ is seen again and again to exercise a preferential option for the poor, the disadvantaged and those actively discriminated against. He seems to be suggesting that in a human society governed by the principles of love, these needs would be better addressed than they are. This has of course been the motivation for centuries of Christian service and social action.
The other aspect is that, in the context of that sharpened awareness of what is essential that may come with any form of disadvantage or marginalisation, there are times when such a person sees the issues for what they are with a much greater clarity. In the gospels we see such people responding where the comfortably mainstream hold back. There is blessing and thanksgiving and grace and new life, even if much that is less than perfect remains and life is still hard.
I would not pretend that it is easy to put these principles into operation, as we attempt to be disciples of Jesus of Nazareth. Some of this is decidedly unpleasant and thankless. It is depressing and discouraging when good intentions are met with hostility or abuse of hospitality. No doubt the lepers and beggars and thieves of the first century shared some qualities with those of the 21st. In the scheme of things, where should we be placing the concerns about property, copper downpipes for instance, or safety or hygiene? These are difficult issues without slick answers.
But dealing with some aspects of marginality confronts us with them directly. Others on the margins confront us with different attitudes to what is right and wrong as we have received it. Sometimes our preconceived notions and ingrained attitudes will need overturning. There is ample precedent for the challenges and the confronting demands to be simply too much to take on board. Again, we need to pray for that good discernment which will help us to know where the appropriate Way lies.
For Bartimaeus in today's gospel, the Way was obvious. Though blind, he could discern and perceive. Once given his sight in the normal sense, he chose not to simply go on his own way, but to follow the way of a disciple. All the layers of meaning in that distinction we can only speculate upon. We hear of him no more. But there was no doubt that his previous situation had been grim. There would not have been many joys for a blind beggar in the first century.
Today's gospel is one of hope. I cannot remember what the definition was that spoke of the triumph of hope over experience. But discipleship of Christians is a bit like that. But no matter how many times we stumble or how unworthy or joyless we may feel that we are, there is the example and the practice of Jesus of Nazareth to bring us to our God and to bring our God to us. So again and again we are encouraged: we take heart.
And they called to the blind man, saying to him, "Take heart; arise, he is calling you". Mk 10:49
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