Today our community gathers, driving in from our separate homes, finding connection in knowing we are each doing the same thing – much as churches around the world are connected when they gather on the same day, read the same scriptures, celebrate the same sacraments, or sing the same hymns. It’s a source of encouragement. May we each find encouragement in the light of God, which knows no corner of creation it cannot reach.

God’s light reaches even the tragedies, which surround us every day. At funerals, the clergy confess: “In the midst of life, we are in death.” We cannot avoid if we want to; we are not in control; we are not in charge. It’s a truth we cannot ignore, much as we try. A story comes to mind that was shared with me by a fellow hospital chaplain for a cancer unit. She recalled meeting regularly with a patient whose prognosis was poor. The woman, who was successful in her career, married, raising a young family, was convinced she would overcome this illness just like she had managed every challenge before, by working hard.

The chaplain recalled how each week, as the patient came in for treatment, they would talk, until in one conversation after several months when the patient finally admitted, in exasperation, that she didn’t know what to do anymore. She listed all of her hard work: She ate salmon and spinach, and she exercised and meditated, and she cut out bad habits, and she was doing everything right, but she still wasn’t getting better. And it was in that moment, that the chaplain had to open her eyes, and tell her the truth that she was avoiding: No amount of will power and good habits would secure her health. She was dying.

It was then that the patient’s eyes seemed to be opened, and she understood the truth, and, because she was seeing things in a new light for the first time, she started to cry. The chaplain told us she stayed with her, and after the patient’s eyes had been washed in tears for a time, she began to see the remainder of her life in a new way – not as a challenge for her to overcome, but as a final blessing for her simply to receive and make the most of. The chaplain made every effort to see the patient for the rest of the treatment, and in time she attended the funeral as well.

No amount of will power and good habits would secure our health. How firmly do we hold onto our blindness to that truth! Naturally, we do not want to open our eyes and see things for how they are. We do not want our comforting obliviousness to be challenged by seeing things in the light, because then we lose our comfort, a kind of self-soothing which we can manufacture on our own. I think it’s because we don’t believe we could find consolation otherwise. 

In this country, we have a firm belief that we are too far away from places of calamity. When we fight wars, they are in another hemisphere; we live where trouble can’t reach us, as if we dwelt in some utopia, or blessed Elysium on this earth. But there is no safe haven. There is no amount of will power that can shield cavalier risk takers from harm. There is no action to be taken to ensure we all end up safe and sound. Life is filled with risk. You know this, too.

But still I look around, and I wonder what’s around the corner. What will happen ten years from now, one year from now, or even just what will happen in ten days’ time? It is into those unknown places that I want to see but can’t. And the frustration grows within me, because I want to be able to plan for it, to prepare for it, whatever it is. I want to meet the challenge ahead of me as I’ve met all the other “dangers, toils, and snares” before.   

Do you feel that frustration, too? Do you feel bound and constrained by conditions you cannot control for yourself? We are not on our own. You can find common cause with the writers and the readers of the scriptures who have come before us. The promise of the 23^rd Psalm is that the Lord is with us. God’s rod and staff of protection and guidance are a comfort to us. Even in the darkest valley, in God’s company we are freed from fear. Instead, it will be God’s goodness and mercy which will surely follow us all the days of our lives.

Do you see things that way? I ask because it’s hard for me. It’s hard for me to look around with fresh eyes and notice the blessings of the season, the yellow leaves falling from the sky, the breeze and gusts of autumn, the precious light and long shadows in the afternoon. I’m crabby and grumpy; I’m distracted by whatever tasks I want to complete. And because of the uncertainty whether I have a cold or allergies, because of the worries I have about our community members (their health or their isolation), the unknown sparks anxiety in me. It’s hard for me to see God’s goodness and mercy when I struggle and fail to calm the constant chatter in my mind. I almost feel blind to God’s grace.  

Light, darkness, sight, and blindness are a persistent theme in the Gospels. The light of all people came into the world in Jesus Christ (John1:4). The dark of the world could not understand the light of God (v. 5). A man stricken with blindness was healed and could see again (Mark 10:46-52).

Without sight, the man’s condition was deemed a disability by the people around him. Faced with some unexplained beyond their control, people resorted to looking for someone to despise. Unwilling to make accommodations, the man’s neighbors turned his blindness into a source of poverty and alienation for him. (Perhaps they even comforted themselves with the vague thought that he probably did something to deserve it. He was being punished by God for some unspeakable sin. He might even be a bad influence if anyone grew too close to him and got to know him.) They were, by their actions, demonstrating their own blindness to the Spirit of God at work in the world. They were utterly unaware of just how good and powerful and healing God was and could be.

I’d venture we make many things into tragedies because we can’t conceive of helping people in need. The disciples were no better than the man’s neighbors. Faced with the tragedy that befell Bartimaeus, the Gospel records the disciples did not respond in faithfulness, promptly healing the man and bringing about wholeness in him. Instead, they were eager to quiet him, to tell him to get to the side, out of the way. Maybe they were unsure their lord could do anything about it. Maybe they felt there were more important things Jesus would want to focus on. Maybe they had in mind some things of their own they wanted to see addressed by their teacher.

But Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And, Jesus questions the man: “What do you want me to do for you?” Do you remember he said the same thing to the sons of Zebedee, James and John, who in last Sunday’s reading of the Gospel declared: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” In contrast to their hubris, their pride, their fragile egos, the blind man asks plainly: “Let me see again.” And Jesus sends him on his way, commending the man. His own faith made him well.

The man was healed and could see. It was a miracle. The other miracle would be if the disciples could begin to see and believe as well. The miracle would be for us to believe that God can heal us, all of us, of our grumpiness, our blindness to the beauty and grace of this world. The miracle would be for us to be free from our own calculating self-interest, free from asking: “What’s in it for me?” The miracle will come when we are all finally released from our inability to understand the strength and awesome power of sacrificial love. My prayer is that we all would be able to understand the logic of sacrifice and selflessness, sooner than any of us can imagine.

But, to be more focused in our time together, I ask: what about you? Do you count yourself a Christian, as someone who looks for God at work in the world? Even in the midst of suffering, do you have eyes to see the Divine all around you, breathing new life into you, keeping you grounded in your being and connected to the love of others? Do you see the goodness and mercy which never fail to come from God? Are you a follower of Christ along the way?

Or, do you tend to complain and bear ill will, following your first instinct to cast aside as evil, sinful, and forsaken, the ones mired in tragedy, the ones whose misery is responsible for causing you discomfort, the ones you might want subconsciously to blame for reminding you that you are not in control of your own safety and security, your own circumstances, or even your own health? “There, too, but for the grace of God, go you,” as it were. Do you suspect that at times you might be an obstacle to Christ’s healing work in the world?

No matter what we are – followers or obstacles on the way – Christ heals us all of our blindness to God’s goodness and mercy. God makes things new again and again. Our spirits are renewed every time we ask God: “Let me live again, let me believe again, let me see the world as you see it, again.” May the Spirit help us to look around with fresh eyes. May we all behold the light of the world in our midst. And may we reveal and reflect that light in our own thoughts, words, and deeds, today and always.

Amen.