Job 42:1-6, 10-17, Mark 10: 46-52

Last week Peter began the first of a two-part reflection on the theme of “gifts”. As he mentioned then this theme was chosen as a result of a Church board retreat that was held at Trapper’s Lake in September. The question posed at the retreat – “where do we want to grow as a community” became a conversation about what gifts are present in this community, and how we can encourage people to name, explore, and offer their gifts in ways that are creative and life giving. Peter’s meditation last week used the theme of gifts as a lens to look at the scripture passages, and a few of the key messages that emerged were:

• We have all spirit given gifts;
• They are the “gifts of God for the people of God”; that is, it is our responsibility to offer them for the “kindom of God”;
• He also whet our curiosity by holding up a resource that he has become quite excited about – it is designed to help congregations determine their mission on the basis of the gifts present in the community. And he will share more about that in the weeks to come.

Continuing to use the lens of gifts to approach today’s scriptures, let’s continue our learning journey.

As Marg stated today’s reading from the book of Job comes from its last chapter where Job comes to a new understanding of the God he thought he knew. “Before I knew you by hearsay,” he says, “but now I have seen your face.” Recall that in last week’s reading Job, in his confusion, anger and misery, had demanded answers of God. God didn’t answer Job’s questions but replied with many questions of God’s own: Questions like:

“Where were you when the foundation of the earth was laid? Whose breath is it that brings about the wind? Who is it that shuts in the sea with doors and walks in the recesses of the deep? Who has cut a channel for the torrents of rain, to satisfy the desolate land, and make the ground put forth grass.” After the litany of God’s questions, Job’s response is, in effect, to acknowledge that he, Job – had been talking about things that he didn’t understand. God’s ways … are not his ways; God’s thoughts are higher than his thoughts. He sees his place – his good place – that he is a creature; God is the creator. Our gifts of intellect and rationale thinking are gifts indeed, but they will not let us know God completely. One of the gifts of these books is that it reminds us that, in the end, it is God who explains us, not we who explain God. In the end Job’s fortunes were restored, he is allowed to see his children’s children for four generations, and he died, “old and full of days”. The story is complete.

In Mark, our gospel reading, we are in the middle of a series of stories describing the movements of Jesus in his ministry of teaching and healing. In the preceding two chapters he has been traveling throughout Galilee, and Capernaum, Judea and Jordan and in today’s reading he and the disciples on their way to Jerusalem are passing through Jericho. Word of his presence has gone out, and everyone is anxious to hear a word from or catch a glimpse of him. While this crowd jostles along on the road out of Jericho, a call is heard from the edge of the commotion – “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me”. The locals look for its source – oh it’s just that blind beggar, Bartimaeus. Perhaps out of irritation or embarrassment, they try to hush him. Or, more likely, they scolded him to be quiet because of the way in which he addressed Jesus. By calling Jesus “Son of David”, Bartimaeus was, in effect, naming him the Son of God – which would have been a politically dangerous thing to do. The folks in the crowd don’t want trouble. But Bartimaeus will not be shushed. He calls again, “Son of David, have mercy on me.” Above the din, Jesus hears his call and he stops. The text says, “He stood still”. This is actually worth noting in the book of Mark as this gospel, the shortest of the four, depicts Jesus as being almost constantly active. A favourite word in Mark is the Greek word meaning “immediately” or “at once” which (my bible’s intro to Mark tells me) occurs forty times in 16 chapters. But here, it all just stops – “Jesus stood still” - and then he said ‘Call him here’”. And so they call to the blind man, saying – “take heart, he is calling you”. Bartimaeus throws off his cloak, jumps up and goes to Jesus, who simply asks him: “what do you want me to do?” We might be surprised that Jesus – looking at this man’s unfocussed eyes, his obvious poverty - doesn’t assume that he knows what the man wants. B says, “Teacher let me see again”. Jesus says, “Go, your faith has made you well.” And immediately, (there it is!) Bartimaeus regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way.

“What did Jesus mean, “your faith has made you well?” I think that another way we can hear this is, “What is needed for your own healing is already within you.” Was Bartimaeus aware of this gift? He seemed to be looking for a need to be filled, but Jesus names his gift and in the presence of Jesus, Bartimaeus’ faith meets his need. Is this true for us too? Imagine: It is the gift within you – one that you may not know you had – or didn’t know what it could do – the gift within you will give you new vision. Imagine: The gifts within us will give us a new vision.

Last week, as Peter reflected that the gifts we are given are to be used in service, he highlighted a line from our communion liturgy. The phrase with which we are invited to God’s table is “The gifts of God, for the people of God”. This struck me because in my preparation for today, another line of our communion liturgy had been on my mind: “as often as you do this, remember me.”

The word, “remember” – as we all know means to call back to mind, the opposite we would say is ‘to forget’. But there’s another opposite – to dismember – to break apart. So another way to understand the word remember is the action of bringing individual pieces of something together – to re-member it. In communion as we partake of the one bread, we are reminded that we are “one body” - the body of Christ with our various gifts.

I dwell on this image – that we are Christ – because I think we can only be this as we join our gifts to the gifts of others. Like the parts of the body that each have important functions, but can’t be very useful in isolation - the parts must be brought together. When our gifts are enjoined, then this new body will discover and release more of the gifts within the body – we will have new understandings of ourselves and what we can do to bring about healing and to share hope. Like Bartimaeus, the naming and release of our gifts, as they encounter the Christ, will give us new vision.

It’s an exciting prospect. Within our church community Peter and others are committed to guide us in a process to identify and employ a creative process to see how they may be connected. But it’s a risky prospect too. And the story of Bartimaeus addresses the reality of the risk as well. In talking about this story with a friend last week, she pointed out a detail in the story that I had missed. She said, “Oh, I love that story – that part about the cloak.” What about that cloak? After Bartimaeus is told that Jesus has called for him, he throws off his cloak and jumps up to go to Jesus. A cloak for a first century Palestinian beggar would have been no small thing. There was no social safety net for people like him – he would have to beg to keep body and soul together and it’s not likely that he could collect enough to reliably keep a roof over his head. His cloak would likely be all he had to protect himself from the elements as each night he would have to seek out some wind-sheltered space at the end of the day. This cloak – this security - he throws off when he moved toward Jesus. Now it may have just been his exuberance – or this is a deliberate gesture in response to his sensing of a deep truth. In moving toward Jesus, he can let go – and take a risk.

 Joining our gifts to one another – so that we can be more fully Christ - will also carry risks. For each one that risk will represent something a little different. For some of us there may be security in the habit of believing of ourselves that we have no gift – nothing special to offer, because then there is no reason to risk. Maybe the risk lies in naming the gift to others – putting it out there – because we’ve been taught not to make too much of ourselves. For others there may seem to be risk at the place when we have to decide to work things out with others – that messy place of decisions, and having less control. There’s also a risk of getting ‘used up’ – spent. There’s also a risk placing our gift into the hand of the one who, in the first place, placed the gift within us. When this is the fear it may serve us to re-read Job and be reminded of the Lord of sea and sky, wind and rain – the God of all time, our time and this creation. This God seeks to guide us to play our part in the music that brings healing and wholeness to the things within our reach. And when we are tempted to hold back because of the risk that too much will depend upon us, let us remember that moment in this passage in Mark – when, upon hearing the call of need, that Jesus stood still. Feel the serene calm in that moment. In the face of needs we too may be able to hold some of this serenity when we will know that the answer does not lie within us alone – the response to need will be shared – the gifts required to meet the need will be creatively joined and nurtured by the Spirit. And just as was true for Bartimaeus, there is a gift within what presents itself as a need - waiting to be released. Having faith that all this is so, we too will be able to encounter need and manage to keep our centre point “still” knowing that God will provide. Your gifts are a part of what is required – but not the only part. In partnership with the gifts of others, we can respond as Christ.

We are not alone. Thanks be to God.