24 October, 2021 – Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 25
The Rev. Dr. Richard Burden
Sermon preached by The Rev. Dr. Richard Burden
Below is a DRAFT text of the homily. It may vary considerably from the recorded version. Please excuse typos and grammatical errors, and do not cite without permission.
“What do you want me to do for you?”
Can you imagine Jesus asking you that question?
Can you imagine how you would respond?
For me, the bravest thing I can imagine saying is “let me see.”
Now it’s dangerous using a metaphor that diminishes the lived reality of people with disabilities…so I want to say up front that I am not talking about physical blindness…I don’t think Mark is talking about physical blindness. The healing stories in the gospels are never strictly literal…they are always more metaphorical.
And since that is the case, what might “seeing” mean here, and why do I think it’s a courageous thing to ask for?
I can see—with help—but I am limited in what I can see…we all are…There are parts of the world…there are parts of our lives…there are parts of myself that I am not able to see…literally and metaphorically.
Have you heard of Johari’s Window? It sounds mystical, doesn’t it? But it’s not…It’s a psychological tool developed by two guys named Joe and Harry (that’s why it’s called Johari’s window—seriously…look it up)* that describes what I’m talking about.
Like all good psychology tools it has four quadrants, and the vertical axis divides Self from Others; and the horizontal axis divides what is known from what is unknown.
So in the top left corner there are things that are know to me and known to others. So, I am white, middle-aged, present as a male, I wear glasses, I have short, light brown hair with gray streaks, green eyes, etc. Dressed like this it might be clear that I’m a priest…all the things that I know and anyone who meets me would know immediately as well.
In the bottom left corner are things that are known to me but unknown, or hidden from others—initially. Things like: whether I’m married or not, whether I have kids or not, whether my parents are still alive, where I grew up, etc. Also the books and tv shows and movies I like, the fact that I like to throw pop culture references into sermons, but also what I’m afraid of, what I hope for, what I expect out of myself and others, etc.Things that I know about myself, that other’s don’t. Some of these things can easily move into the top corner, as we get to know each other better, but some of them are going to stay known to me and unknown to you—that’s called having healthy boundaries.
In the top right are things that are known to you, but unknown to me…what is sometimes called a “blind-spot.” The choir knows what’s going on back here, but I don’t. We all have them. This is where poker “tells” appear…and where emotional reactions that I’m trying to suppress might show up…for example you might know (but I might be unaware) that “I repeat myself when under stress, I repeat myself when under stress,” or that I use humor to defuse uncomfortable situations. My spouse often knows that I’m getting angry long before I do. This is also where all of those implicit biases show up…where micro-aggressions happen. This is men talking over women; white people moving away from or tensing up around a person of color; straight people denying the reality of LGBT+ struggles. It’s why the work we’re trying to do around racial justice and reconciliation is so hard…because it asks us (mostly white people) to become more conscious of our blindspots…to open our eyes to see things about ourselves that others see, but that we have a really hard time seeing.
The last section is the bottom right is “the unknown” the area that is unknown to everyone else, and unknown to even you. It’s the cave on Dagobah, it’s the Cloud of Unknowing, or the Dark Night of the Soul. This is where deep fears—but also spiritual gifts—are hidden. It’s often where the soul, the true self, lies hidden waiting to emerge.
And so I think asking Jesus to “let me see” is incredibly brave, because it’s actually asking him to let me see…all of it. Everything. The known, the bindspots…and the unknown. Can you imagine asking him to let you see all of it?
What would that mean for us? To see like Bartimaeus…to see the way Job learns to see? To see the fullness of ourselves…in all our power, all of our grandeur, all of our brilliance…and in all of our petty meanness, our selfish, self-protectiveness. To see not only more of what we can see, but to also see how others see us…how we are seen…how God sees us. To see our entire history whole and unvarnished, to see the choices our ancestors made, and the paths they refused to see. To see the progress we have made…and the damage we have wrought…on ourselves…on each other…on the environment. To see more clearly the choices we have yet to make. The crosses we have still to take up, the cup we still have to drink, the road we still have to walk.
Bartimaeus is maybe the most courageous person in the whole of scripture. “Let me see,” he says…and with sight restored he follows Jesus on the way.
May we have the courage to ask for the vision to do the same.
Amen.
* It was developed by Joseph Lutz, and Harrington Ingham