Your Heart Needs Your Attention Right Here
Mark 10:46-52
Lyndale UCC- July 28, 2024
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
Do you hear? Yes, we hear. Do you hear? Yes, we hear. Your heart needs your attention right here. Do you heal? Yes we heal. Do you heal? Yes, we heal. We’ve got all our medicine right here. Said, we’ve got all our medicine right here. Yes, we’ve got all our medicine right here.[1]
There’s a haunting story that one of my mentors, Mab Segrest shares in her book Born to Belonging. Mab is a white woman who has done a lot of racial justice work and the orientation of her life has always been toward healing and wholeness amidst the world’s injustices. She has a chapter in Born to Belonging that’s called the Souls of White Folks in which she’s trying to help those of us who are white come back into relationship with our hearts and souls. And in order to do that, she tells the story of what we are up against. The story Mab tells is about Mary Boykin Chesnut.
Mary Boykin Chesnut was married to a man who served in Confederate President Jefferson Davis’ cabinet and Mary was a passionate supporter of the Confederate cause. In her diaries, however, she articulates the psychological and spiritual impact of slavery on her. Her testimony dramatically illustrates that colonization has soul-crushing implications for all—including those who benefit in material ways. Upon witnessing a slave auction, Mary reports the “tragedy” she observes, writing:
“A mad woman taken from her husband and children. Of course she was mad, or she would not have given her grief words in that public place. Her keepers were along. What she said was rational enough, pathetic at times, at times heart-rending. It excited me so I quietly took opium. It enabled me to retain every particle of mind or sense or brains I have, so quiets my nerves that I can calmly reason and take rational views of things otherwise maddening.”[2]
In the midst of the brutality of chattel slavery, Chesnut chose not to respond with empathy for the woman who was being torn from her husband and children. She clearly understood and felt the horror of bearing witness to such agony, calling it “heart-rending.” But she chose the path of passive non-resistance and pays the price. She must practice addiction, using opium to crush her empathy and her passion for connection and “calming” her in ways that restore “reason” and “rational views.”
Your heart needs your attention right here.
This morning, as we gather for worship, I invite us to consider the state of our hearts… the state of our hearts.
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.
There is a lot to say about our text and I will share a number of things, but I want us to continue to consider it all through the lens of the state of our hearts. So, hold on to that…
But first, let me set some context for this story.
Our text for this morning is set on the way out of Jericho. Now, Jericho is the final stop on the pilgrimage road. Jewish pilgrims who are on their way to the Temple in Jerusalem only have fifteen more miles on their pilgrimage. In other words, they are almost to the center of political, economic and religious life. But there’s another piece about geography that the writer of the Gospel of Mark uses. Throughout the story of Jesus, Mark tells us that Jesus is “on the way.” And, in many ways, Mark’s gospel can be seen as Jesus and the disciples’ journey from the hinterlands, ministering amongst those who are marginalized, and journeying toward a confrontation with those in power. Each healing is a step closer to the final confrontation to which he is “on the way.” So, the geography of the story is important.
Second, the placement of this story in the arc of the gospel is also important. The story right before our reading for this morning has James and John, two brothers, saying to Jesus, “grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” And Jesus, clearly disappointed by them, flatly refuses. And he calls all the disciples over to him and says, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it cannot be like that with you. Anyone among you who aspires to greatness must serve the rest; whoever wants to rank first among you must serve the needs of all.”
Our story of Bartimaeus and Jesus follows this rebuke of James and John and it is the final healing in the gospel of Mark. The juxtaposition of Bartimaeus and James and John is pretty stark. And then, with both the rebuke of the brothers and the healing of Bartimaeus fresh in our minds, the next scene in Mark’s gospel is Jesus entering Jerusalem, his last step “on the way” toward his final confrontation. It is known as Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and it’s the text that we read for Palm Sunday every year.
This geographic context and the placement in the larger story are both important to help us get a better understanding of what the writer of Mark is trying to teach us.
As Jesus is on his journey “on the way,” who is he rebuking and who is he healing?
Bartimaeus is similar to many of those with whom Mark’s Jesus ministers. Bartimaeus is an outsider who doesn’t have friends to assist him. He is pushed to the margins of society. Yet he takes bold initiative and is commended by Jesus, “your faith has made you well.” Bartimaeus reminds us of the unnamed woman with the flow of blood and the many other outsiders in Mark’s gospel who are received or empowered by Jesus- the Gerasene demoniac, the Syrophoenician woman, the blind man at Bethsaida and the little children. These are the ones who receive Jesus’ attention, these are the ones whose agency Jesus responds to and heals.[3]
But like other stories of healing in Mark’s gospel, the story of Bartimaeus makes us reconsider who is sick and who actually needs healing.
Which brings me back to the state of our hearts.
This past Wednesday, the Sacred Reckonings Steering Committee met here at SpringHouse to do some strategic planning around our shared reparations work in white churches. And we talked about the fact that the orientation of Sacred Reckonings is that of Liberation for All and Open Heartedness. We also talked about just how difficult it is these days to move in our world with Open Heartedness, especially as we seek to engage both personal and systemic change.
I don’t know about you, but when I read about Project 2025 or watch a video with a politician being downright cruel, I find my heart hardening. Or, when I hear a story about another massacre in Gaza or Ukraine or Sudan, I find myself overwhelmed with compassion fatigue. I’m not in the place that Mary Boykin Chesnut was… I’m not taking opium, but I recognize how numbing out and engaging in addictive behavior is a response that many of us grapple with. Passive non-resistance to the forces of oppression and injustice is a kind of hard-heartedness that is very alluring…
What is the state of our hearts?
When Bartimaeus realizes that it is Jesus who is near him he yells and shouts “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And then the text tells us “Many sternly ordered him to be quiet.”
Who were these folx who were seeking to silence Bartimaeus? Were they the disciples who, just moments before, Jesus had rebuked and told them of the radical equity in God’s realm? Were they pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem? Whoever they were, they seemed to be suffering from same hard-heartedness that Mary Boykin Chesnut was.
The story goes on describing Bartimaeus, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.
Scholars have pointed out that unlike James and John who, in their heart-sickness, are longing after power, Bartimaeus throws off his cloak, his only means of income, to come to Jesus. The faith that Jesus tells him has made him well, is a clearness of heart. Bartimaeus understands that which will make him whole. And as further evidence of this, Bartimaeus, after receiving his sight, remains with Jesus “on the way.” He allows himself to stay open-hearted and commits to join the journey toward confronting the political, religious and economic systems that harden too many hearts.
I want to say just a word about disability and ableism. Clearly in this story, it is Bartimaeus’ marginalization, his isolation from community that is named as the problem. Jesus respects Bartimaeus’ agency and his desire to receive his sight but Bartimaeus’ blindness is not the problem. A community that would silence the marginalized and whose hearts long for power and prestige instead of humanity and equity, that is the sickness to be healed. Jesus is “on the way” to create God’s new order, an economy of open hearts.
To emphasize the point that Bartimaeus is not the one who needs to be healed, his crying out “Jesus, Son of David” is the first time in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus is named as in a lineage of rulers. But, clearly Bartimaeus sees and understands that Jesus’ embodiment of power is for soft-hearted liberation, not economies of hard-heartedness.
So what is the state of your heart right now? Can we take just a moment to put our hands on our hearts and breathe in? How is your heart right now?
The problem with protecting our hearts, especially in a country where hard-heartedness is often a kind of cultural heirloom, is that protecting our hearts too often leads to heart-sickness and hardening.
Your heart needs your attention right here.
Can we give our hearts the attention they need? Can we hear the challenge from Bartimaeus and the cautionary tale of Mary Boykin Chesnut?
And hearing these, can we cry out, “Jesus, soft-hearted liberator, have mercy on us?” And might we hear, “come, your faith has made you well?”
Amen.
[1] Song by Deirdre Smith
[2] Mary Boykin Chesnut in Mab Segrest, Born to Belonging: Writings on Spirit and Justice (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2002), 140.
[3] Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV- Year B, Brueggemann, Cousar, Gaventa and Newsome, Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993, pp. 564-565.
Mark 10:46-52
Lyndale UCC- July 28, 2024
Rev. Dr. Rebecca Voelkel
Do you hear? Yes, we hear. Do you hear? Yes, we hear. Your heart needs your attention right here. Do you heal? Yes we heal. Do you heal? Yes, we heal. We’ve got all our medicine right here. Said, we’ve got all our medicine right here. Yes, we’ve got all our medicine right here.[1]
There’s a haunting story that one of my mentors, Mab Segrest shares in her book Born to Belonging. Mab is a white woman who has done a lot of racial justice work and the orientation of her life has always been toward healing and wholeness amidst the world’s injustices. She has a chapter in Born to Belonging that’s called the Souls of White Folks in which she’s trying to help those of us who are white come back into relationship with our hearts and souls. And in order to do that, she tells the story of what we are up against. The story Mab tells is about Mary Boykin Chesnut.
Mary Boykin Chesnut was married to a man who served in Confederate President Jefferson Davis’ cabinet and Mary was a passionate supporter of the Confederate cause. In her diaries, however, she articulates the psychological and spiritual impact of slavery on her. Her testimony dramatically illustrates that colonization has soul-crushing implications for all—including those who benefit in material ways. Upon witnessing a slave auction, Mary reports the “tragedy” she observes, writing:
“A mad woman taken from her husband and children. Of course she was mad, or she would not have given her grief words in that public place. Her keepers were along. What she said was rational enough, pathetic at times, at times heart-rending. It excited me so I quietly took opium. It enabled me to retain every particle of mind or sense or brains I have, so quiets my nerves that I can calmly reason and take rational views of things otherwise maddening.”[2]
In the midst of the brutality of chattel slavery, Chesnut chose not to respond with empathy for the woman who was being torn from her husband and children. She clearly understood and felt the horror of bearing witness to such agony, calling it “heart-rending.” But she chose the path of passive non-resistance and pays the price. She must practice addiction, using opium to crush her empathy and her passion for connection and “calming” her in ways that restore “reason” and “rational views.”
Your heart needs your attention right here.
This morning, as we gather for worship, I invite us to consider the state of our hearts… the state of our hearts.
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.
There is a lot to say about our text and I will share a number of things, but I want us to continue to consider it all through the lens of the state of our hearts. So, hold on to that…
But first, let me set some context for this story.
Our text for this morning is set on the way out of Jericho. Now, Jericho is the final stop on the pilgrimage road. Jewish pilgrims who are on their way to the Temple in Jerusalem only have fifteen more miles on their pilgrimage. In other words, they are almost to the center of political, economic and religious life. But there’s another piece about geography that the writer of the Gospel of Mark uses. Throughout the story of Jesus, Mark tells us that Jesus is “on the way.” And, in many ways, Mark’s gospel can be seen as Jesus and the disciples’ journey from the hinterlands, ministering amongst those who are marginalized, and journeying toward a confrontation with those in power. Each healing is a step closer to the final confrontation to which he is “on the way.” So, the geography of the story is important.
Second, the placement of this story in the arc of the gospel is also important. The story right before our reading for this morning has James and John, two brothers, saying to Jesus, “grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” And Jesus, clearly disappointed by them, flatly refuses. And he calls all the disciples over to him and says, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it cannot be like that with you. Anyone among you who aspires to greatness must serve the rest; whoever wants to rank first among you must serve the needs of all.”
Our story of Bartimaeus and Jesus follows this rebuke of James and John and it is the final healing in the gospel of Mark. The juxtaposition of Bartimaeus and James and John is pretty stark. And then, with both the rebuke of the brothers and the healing of Bartimaeus fresh in our minds, the next scene in Mark’s gospel is Jesus entering Jerusalem, his last step “on the way” toward his final confrontation. It is known as Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and it’s the text that we read for Palm Sunday every year.
This geographic context and the placement in the larger story are both important to help us get a better understanding of what the writer of Mark is trying to teach us.
As Jesus is on his journey “on the way,” who is he rebuking and who is he healing?
Bartimaeus is similar to many of those with whom Mark’s Jesus ministers. Bartimaeus is an outsider who doesn’t have friends to assist him. He is pushed to the margins of society. Yet he takes bold initiative and is commended by Jesus, “your faith has made you well.” Bartimaeus reminds us of the unnamed woman with the flow of blood and the many other outsiders in Mark’s gospel who are received or empowered by Jesus- the Gerasene demoniac, the Syrophoenician woman, the blind man at Bethsaida and the little children. These are the ones who receive Jesus’ attention, these are the ones whose agency Jesus responds to and heals.[3]
But like other stories of healing in Mark’s gospel, the story of Bartimaeus makes us reconsider who is sick and who actually needs healing.
Which brings me back to the state of our hearts.
This past Wednesday, the Sacred Reckonings Steering Committee met here at SpringHouse to do some strategic planning around our shared reparations work in white churches. And we talked about the fact that the orientation of Sacred Reckonings is that of Liberation for All and Open Heartedness. We also talked about just how difficult it is these days to move in our world with Open Heartedness, especially as we seek to engage both personal and systemic change.
I don’t know about you, but when I read about Project 2025 or watch a video with a politician being downright cruel, I find my heart hardening. Or, when I hear a story about another massacre in Gaza or Ukraine or Sudan, I find myself overwhelmed with compassion fatigue. I’m not in the place that Mary Boykin Chesnut was… I’m not taking opium, but I recognize how numbing out and engaging in addictive behavior is a response that many of us grapple with. Passive non-resistance to the forces of oppression and injustice is a kind of hard-heartedness that is very alluring…
What is the state of our hearts?
When Bartimaeus realizes that it is Jesus who is near him he yells and shouts “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And then the text tells us “Many sternly ordered him to be quiet.”
Who were these folx who were seeking to silence Bartimaeus? Were they the disciples who, just moments before, Jesus had rebuked and told them of the radical equity in God’s realm? Were they pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem? Whoever they were, they seemed to be suffering from same hard-heartedness that Mary Boykin Chesnut was.
The story goes on describing Bartimaeus, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.
Scholars have pointed out that unlike James and John who, in their heart-sickness, are longing after power, Bartimaeus throws off his cloak, his only means of income, to come to Jesus. The faith that Jesus tells him has made him well, is a clearness of heart. Bartimaeus understands that which will make him whole. And as further evidence of this, Bartimaeus, after receiving his sight, remains with Jesus “on the way.” He allows himself to stay open-hearted and commits to join the journey toward confronting the political, religious and economic systems that harden too many hearts.
I want to say just a word about disability and ableism. Clearly in this story, it is Bartimaeus’ marginalization, his isolation from community that is named as the problem. Jesus respects Bartimaeus’ agency and his desire to receive his sight but Bartimaeus’ blindness is not the problem. A community that would silence the marginalized and whose hearts long for power and prestige instead of humanity and equity, that is the sickness to be healed. Jesus is “on the way” to create God’s new order, an economy of open hearts.
To emphasize the point that Bartimaeus is not the one who needs to be healed, his crying out “Jesus, Son of David” is the first time in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus is named as in a lineage of rulers. But, clearly Bartimaeus sees and understands that Jesus’ embodiment of power is for soft-hearted liberation, not economies of hard-heartedness.
So what is the state of your heart right now? Can we take just a moment to put our hands on our hearts and breathe in? How is your heart right now?
The problem with protecting our hearts, especially in a country where hard-heartedness is often a kind of cultural heirloom, is that protecting our hearts too often leads to heart-sickness and hardening.
Your heart needs your attention right here.
Can we give our hearts the attention they need? Can we hear the challenge from Bartimaeus and the cautionary tale of Mary Boykin Chesnut?
And hearing these, can we cry out, “Jesus, soft-hearted liberator, have mercy on us?” And might we hear, “come, your faith has made you well?”
Amen.
[1] Song by Deirdre Smith
[2] Mary Boykin Chesnut in Mab Segrest, Born to Belonging: Writings on Spirit and Justice (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2002), 140.
[3] Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV- Year B, Brueggemann, Cousar, Gaventa and Newsome, Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993, pp. 564-565.
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