Stronger Than Death (Ruth)

 I have the latest copy of the Bloomington-Normal Area Official Visitor Guide. Right here at the front, there’s a “BN Bucket List.” How many of these bucket list items have you done?

Before I moved to Illinois, I received a copy of last year’s Visitor Guide, which the search committee sent to me. It was fun to look through that magazine as I counted down the days until we moved here.

I have some other visitor guides here… And this past summer, before I went with Ginger and Ethan to West Virginia for a short vacation, I read through one published by the West Virginia Department of Tourism; on the front cover it had the words, “almost heaven.”

In addition to visitor guide magazines, one can also get a preview of a place by looking online. 

I didn’t get a magazine when I went to Washington, D.C. two months ago, and I’ve never had one for Chicago, but I did find it helpful to follow several social media accounts that highlighted things to do in those cities. I still follow the Chicago ones, since Chicago’s just up the road…

Unfortunately, there is no visitor guide or social media account for a place that I will be traveling to one day, a place that we all will be traveling to one day…

I’m talking about heaven.

It would be nice if there was a visitor guide for heaven, though, wouldn’t it? Or a social media account you could follow? Something that shows you what the accommodations are like, what there is to see, who you’ll get to see? (Oh, there’s some people I want to see in heaven!) Something that lets you know that the sunsets are incredible, and that angelic choirs perform free concerts every Saturday at 7?

Wouldn’t that be nice? 

Now, some would say that heaven does have a version of a visitor guide, and that is the Bible. Well, OK. Metaphorically speaking, one could say that.

But the Bible really says very little about life after we die. It’s all very vague.

And many of the scriptures that we interpret as applying to life after death really are about things in this world. 

But there are glimpses. Hints. 

It’s not a high-quality magazine filled with beautiful color photographs. But it is just enough, I suppose, to give me faith, and hope, and confidence in that future that awaits us all.

The glimpse of heaven that I find most helpful is in the 8th chapter of Romans. In my imaginary visitor’s bureau magazine, Romans 8 gets a full, two-page spread. 

Because there, it says that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

That is the assurance to me—to us—that God’s love is stronger than anything—stronger even than death—and that we will dwell in God’s love forever, even after we die.

I wish I had a more detailed picture of what exactly that will look like, but it is enough for me to know that we will dwell in God’s love forever.

I see that same assurance in the story of Naomi and Ruth.

The love that Naomi and Ruth have for each other is deep and strong and incredible. It is the love that inspired Ruth to say to Naomi, “Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” 

These beautiful words have been used by a number of couples as part of their wedding vows, even though the context in the book of Ruth is that of a daughter-in-law expressing her loyalty and devotion to her mother-in-law.

But for me, the fact that this is an expression of love between a daughter-in-law and her mother-in-law is what makes this scene so powerful, and such a significant glimpse into the love that remains steadfast even after death.

Hear me out.

Naomi and Ruth’s love for one another came about because of a man who is now dead: Mahlon, the son of Naomi, and the husband of Ruth. Their love for each other was because of him. Their love for each other came about through him. He was what connected them to each other. He was what made them part of the same family.

They probably wouldn’t have even known each other without him. They only knew each other because he—the son of Naomi—married Ruth. He was the one who brought them together.

So, when he died…

When he and his brother died, Naomi set aside whatever emotions she was feeling, and told her two daughters-in-law—Ruth and Orpah—that they were no longer bound to her, that they were free to return to their own homes. Mahlon and Chilion, the ones who brought them all together, the ones through whom they were related, were now dead. So why should Ruth and Orpah stay with her?

Yet, even though Mahlon and Chilion were dead, the love Ruth and Orpah had for Naomi remained, and they refused to leave her.

After some more persuading, Orpah did finally agree to leave, but Ruth would not. Could not. “Don’t make me,” she said. 

Her love for Naomi and her loyalty to her would not allow her to leave. It stayed just as strong, and steadfast.

Probably some of you—maybe many of you—have experienced a love like that. You became a part of a family because of a marriage connection that you or someone else made. Then, through death, or perhaps divorce or some other circumstance, that connection was severed… the one through whom that connection was made was no longer in the picture; and yet, the love lingered, persisted, remained steadfast.

What a beautiful and holy thing! What a testament to the power of love, that it survived even the death of the one who provided the original connection on which that love was based! 

And the older I get, the more I realize how important it is to have love like that. That love takes many forms, but today I’m mostly talking about the love that we receive from those generations before us: our parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, dear friends and mentors who have guided us along the way. 

The saints who we celebrate today.

And maybe their love wasn’t perfect, but no human love is. But, if we’re blessed, their love was good. 

And sometimes, “good” is even better than “perfect.” 

Again, it might have been your parents, but it might also have been someone else for you, whose love guided you, nurtured you, and was a reflection of God’s own love for you, that made the difference. 

And it is my hope that there are folks in this room today who continue to provide that same love for you, the love that was passed down to them, which they now share with you.

And our job, of course, is to pass that love that we have received on to others, sharing it, especially with those who are a part of the generations that come after us.

Living is hard, and in some ways, it seems to be getting even harder. But love will get us through. 

Especially a love like this: a love that transcends generations, a love that goes back not just one or two generations, but all the way back through all of human history, back to when God first created humanity, first breathed that breath that gave life to dust and bones. 

It was love that did that.

And all of scripture is a testimony to God’s love for humanity.

Perhaps when we die, we get to experience that love in an even greater way than is possible for us to experience in this life. It’s like, now, the love we have, the love we receive, the love we share, it is in a state of growing, developing, becoming; but when we die, it will finally be complete; whole; fully realized.

I don’t know how you could convey that in a glossy visitor magazine. Maybe that’s why there is no such magazine for heaven. 

But thank God we get to experience that love just as Ruth and Naomi and so many others have experienced it. Thank God that it is a love that does not come to an end when a person dies, but continues growing, expanding and embracing, with each generation that comes. 

In fact, the genealogies that begin the Advent stories in Matthew and Luke: aren’t they a testament to God’s love that continues from one generation to the next? The story of Christ, starting with his birth, is the story of a God who loved humanity so much, that God became one of us, dwelt among us, in human form. But the genealogies remind us that the story of God’s love really began much, much earlier than that.

And it will continue. God’s love will continue. It’s the most important message that the church has for the world: God’s love is real, and God’s love is for you, and nothing—not even death—will separate you from that love. 

Knowing that is a great comfort to me when I think back to those I have loved and who have loved me, who are no longer with me today. 

And knowing that is a great comfort to me when I become anxious about my own death.

It’s even a comfort to me when I become anxious about the election. No matter what happens, God’s love is strong, and God’s love is steadfast. No matter what happens in the darkest part of night, God’s love is renewed every morning. 

And as the story of Ruth and Naomi shows, it is a love that continues even after death. It was their love for Mahlon that brought them together, but even after Mahlon died, the love that grew out of that relationship through marriage remained steadfast. 

Nothing beats that. Because nothing is more powerful than love.

Wanting to See (Mark 10:46-52)

 Where I used to live—in Long Beach, California—at the side of a freeway offramp a few blocks from my house, right across the street from Home Depot… there was usually a homeless person, standing with a sign, asking for help. The spot they chose was right where all the drivers exiting the freeway had to stop and wait for the red light to turn green.

Most drivers did their best to ignore the person on the side of the road. Most drivers would pretend that person wasn’t there. They’d suddenly become very interested in something on their dashboard, or on the seat next to them—anything to avoid having to look at that homeless person, to see their face, to look into their eyes.

…And that’s exactly how I imagine things were for Bartimaeus.

In our Bible story today, Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, is sitting by the side of the road, waiting for someone to notice him. 

Most people make a point of not noticing him. Bartimaeus makes people uncomfortable: his eyes that are open but which do not see, staring at nothing.

But it isn’t just his blindness. In the first century, anyone who is blind, or deaf, or lame, or afflicted with any sort of incurable disease, makes people uncomfortable. 

Some wonder how it is that they are born with all their senses and abilities, while others are not. How easily it could have been them, and could still be them, if some accident or misfortune should befall them… They don’t like to think about that…

Others figure that any person so afflicted must have done something to anger God. That thought, at least, puts some distance between them and the person on the side of the road. It justifies their preference to pass by quickly, and turn their thoughts to something else.

Bartimaeus knows all this. He knows what people think. He knows that he makes them uncomfortable. He knows that they try to pass as quickly as they can. 

He can feel the vibrations of their footsteps, which quicken as they approach, then relax a bit once they have passed.

That’s OK. He doesn’t need everyone to stop by and notice him. But it would be nice if one or two would pause long enough to drop a coin in his cup before they hurried away.

On this day, he can hear a large crowd coming out from Jericho. As the crowd approaches, he can feel the vibrations of many feet coming from the ground. 

It’s harder for a large crowd to hurry by as it passes, because they’re all bunched together, and everyone has someone else in front of them, limiting how fast they can go. They’re all backed up… just like the cars at the red light on that freeway offramp.

Maybe that will help someone notice him, and put something in his cup. Maybe more than one “someone.”

But something else creates an even greater excitement in Bartimaeus. He hears people in the crowd mentioning the name: Jesus of Nazareth. Over and over, he hears that name, and Bartimaeus realizes:

Jesus is passing by! The one who has the power to heal! The one who has the power to restore broken people to wholeness!

If only he can get Jesus to notice him!

But how? Bartimaeus is sure that Jesus is surrounded by people, which will make it hard for Jesus to see anything or anyone beyond those traveling with him. 

And even if Jesus does see Bartimaeus, would Jesus acknowledge him? Or would he, like everyone else, ignore him, and just keep right on going?

Bartimaeus starts shouting: “Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!” (Say that with me!)

Some in the crowd try to silence Bartimaeus. “Hey, pipe down. Jesus has more important things to think about than you. He’s on his way to Jerusalem, to claim his glory, to claim his throne! So stop bothering him!”

But Bartimaeus yells even louder: “JESUS, SON OF DAVID!” (That’s a royal title, by the way. If Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, to claim his glory, to claim his throne, what better way to address him? On the other hand, it is dangerous to use a royal title when addressing anyone other than Caesar or one of the rulers under Caesar. That kind of talk can get one killed. Calling Jesus “Son of David” in such a public setting is risky!)

But Bartimaeus is not dissuaded. He yells again, at the top of his lungs: “JESUS! SON OF DAVID! HAVE MERCY ON ME!”

Jesus stops. The entire procession stops. Everything comes to a standstill. All the voices are silent. The ground is still, no longer vibrating from all the footsteps.

Bartimaeus tries to swallow, but his mouth has gone dry.

Jesus says, “Bring him here.”

Suddenly, Bartimaeus feels several sets of hands grabbing him, lifting him up; and several voices say to him: “Take heart! Get up! He’s calling YOU!”

Bartimaeus gets up and throws down his cloak. The cloak is a symbol of his status as a beggar; since Jesus has taken notice of him, Bartimaeus is certain he won’t be needing that anymore. That’s how strong his faith is.

 Guided by the crowd, he approaches Jesus. He hears Jesus say to him: “What do you want me to do for you?”

Upon hearing the question, Bartimaeus feels his knees go weak. He almost falls back to the ground. 

Never, in his life, has anyone taken such notice of him, in such a positive, sincere way, asking him what they could do for him. Most people didn’t care about him. Even the ones who put coins in his cup; they never asked him what he wanted, they never looked him in the eye. They all just wanted to get on with whatever more important thing they were doing.

Not Jesus. Jesus’ question is sincere. Jesus notices Bartimaeus. Jesus feels compassion for Bartimaeus. Jesus addresses Bartimaeus as a holy, beloved, child of God. And Jesus waits for Bartimaeus to answer.

Bartimaeus says, “Teacher! Let me see again!”

Jesus says to him, “Go; your faith has made you well. Your faith has healed you. Your faith has restored you to wholeness. Your faith has saved you.”

Instantly, Bartimaeus can see. 

And, having been noticed by Jesus, having experienced Jesus’ love and kindness and compassion, Bartimaeus then follows Jesus on the way; and that phrase—on the way—refers to the new life, the new way of living, that all those who worship Jesus are called to follow.

Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way.

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When Jesus notices Bartimaeus, and stops to talk to Bartimaeus, and heals Bartimaeus, he doesn’t just give Bartimaeus the ability to see; he also gives Bartimaeus the ability to be seen. 

Many in the crowd that follows Jesus have never really seen Bartimaeus before. Even those who have passed by him before—even those who have passed by him many times, who perhaps see him on a daily basis—have never really seen him before. 

They always turn their faces away, passing by quickly on the other side of the road, doing all they can to not see Bartimaeus. They were blind to him… but now Jesus has opened their eyes, and now they see and notice Bartimaeus.

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Stories like this one are a challenge for me. Because I, like many others, am tempted to avert my gaze, to look away, and not notice those in need, especially when they appear before me when I’m not expecting it. I suppose if my attention were drawn to them only at times that were convenient for me, that would be OK. But that’s not how these things always happen. 

It is not convenient for Jesus to stop and notice Bartimaeus, to talk with Bartimaeus, to hear Bartimaeus’ request, and to respond. Jesus is, after all, on his way to Jerusalem, where he is about to have the most important week of his life—the most important week in the life of any human who ever lived. 

If anyone has a good reason to keep going, to not stop and notice some person on the side of the road, it’s Jesus. 

Yet Jesus does stop. Jesus does notice. Jesus does take the time to help Bartimaeus see, and to help the crowd see Bartimaeus.

So, as we follow Jesus in our lives, I think one of the most important things we can do—one of the most important things that God calls us to do—is to stop and notice those who are sitting on the side of the road.

Who are the ones sitting on the side of the road? Who is it that is ignored by society? 

Who is it that we try not to notice?

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When I was a college student, attending Disciples-related Chapman University, I spent every Friday afternoon helping to prepare food to feed the homeless. I’d walk a couple of blocks from campus to the home of a woman in her late 80s named Mary McAnena, who, with help from volunteers, prepared hot meals every weekday in her house for the 100 or so homeless people who gathered in the park nearby.

To some, Mary was a hero, or a saint; to others, she was a nuisance.

It started one day when Mary McAnena was walking home from church. She saw a young woman sitting on the ground, eating pork and beans out of a can with her hands. 

I don’t know how I would have reacted. But Mary stopped and noticed that person, and offered her some food. And when Mary noticed others who were hungry and homeless, she began feeding them, too, and before long, she was fixing meals in her house every weekday, and transporting the food to the park a few blocks away to feed the growing crowd.

The city council, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to notice the homeless in their city. The council said that Mary was only encouraging them. They tried to get Mary to stop, but Mary refused.

Eventually a compromise was reached: instead of preparing the food in her home and taking it to the park, the city gave Mary space on city property in an industrial area a half mile away.

There, Mary’s kitchen, which was now developing into its own nonprofit organization, placed a mobile kitchen it had acquired, and continued feeding the homeless.

But the harassment from the city continued, even after Mary passed away at the age of 100. Mary’s Kitchen was eventually forced to shut down. The city again chose to ignore those sitting and begging on the side of the road.

But the volunteers running Mary’s Kitchen didn’t let that stop them. Two years ago they found a new location, a few miles away in the nearby city of Anaheim, just a few blocks from Disneyland. And the kitchen continues to operate today.

The story of Mary’s Kitchen, and the story of Bartimaeus, have a lot in common. Both stories involve noticing people who usually go unnoticed in society. Both involve people of faith going against the rest of society, and noticing those vulnerable persons on the side of the road. And both involve resistance from government leaders.

Because, remember, Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, the center of Roman and religious government. And in the story, Bartimaeus dares to call Jesus “Son of David,” a very political term. 

We cannot hear this story, and ignore the politics involved. 

And as Election Day gets closer, I cannot help but think about how the candidates we’re asked to vote for do—or do not—notice and give attention to the vulnerable people of our society; those who sit by the side of the road, who would like to join the procession, the march of society, but are unable to do so without assistance. 

Which of our potential leaders will help us as a society stop and notice those who need our attention? Which of our potential leaders will help us show compassion to them, and offer them restoration and healing? Which of our potential leaders will open our eyes to the needs of the people around us, removing our blindness, and helping us to see?

The Bible talks an awful lot about showing justice to the poor, and hospitality to immigrants, and compassion to all sorts of vulnerable people… Will we notice them? Will we allow Jesus to open our eyes, so that we truly see them?

Because only when our eyes are truly open, and we see and notice those around us, will we then be prepared to follow Jesus on the way.