Cat Goodrich
Faith Presbyterian Church, Baltimore, MD
October 27, 2024

Eyes Wide Open
Mark 10:46-52

When I was in about fourth grade, the world was taken with a new visual phenomenon: Magic Eye images.

You may have seen your first one in a poster frame at the mall, with a soft pretzel or a fresh squeezed lemonade in your hand, a group of strangers crowded around close, squinting.  Or, if you’re like me, maybe it was at a scholastic book fair, a group of classmates leaning over the desk, saying things like: look through the picture!  Let your eyes unfocus!  With someone periodically exclaiming: ohhhh!  I see it!  A sailboat!

Magic Eye posters were a fad that swept the country in the early 90’s – a popular version of a “random dot stereogram, a visual trick that shows how humans can achieve the sensation” of seeing something in 3-D, “by looking at a pair of 2D images filled with randomized, black-and-white dots…”. By shifting where an image is placed relative to its background, the inventor of these images figured out how to “trick the brain into seeing depth and create the illusion” of seeing a flat image as 3-D.[1]

Developed by a couple of graphic designers, Magic Eye images hide a 3-D image behind repeating columns of brightly colored static.  When your eyes unfocus, the hidden image suddenly appears.  Many of you can remember that “aha” moment of suddenly seeing the car or the airplane behind the static.  In a design article about the Magic Eye craze, one journalist wrote, there is “something entrancing about staring at the hypercolored static, searching for something you can’t see but know is there. As satisfying as it is to best a trick, there’s a perverse pleasure in trying, and failing, to bring something hidden into view.”[2]

I have a confession: I could never see the hidden image.  Try as I might, my brain could not unscramble the static, and the 3-D image never appeared. Magic eyes left me cross eyed and headachey, frustrated that I couldn’t see the cool picture that everyone else saw.

It was an early lesson in the truth that sometimes, we can’t see the world the way others see it.  Our brains operate differently; what is obvious and evident to you may not be so clear to me, and vice-versa.  We need each other to help us see what our eyes, our brains overlook, or that which social location or experience hides from us.  The story of Bartimaeus is a good example of this.

We’ve been journeying with Jesus through Mark’s gospel over the past six weeks or so.  Along the way, Jesus has been teaching his disciples what discipleship looks like: humility, service, healing, and care.  As he travels through the Galilean countryside to Jerusalem, Jesus challenges social norms that prioritize some while shutting others out.  Women, children, people who are sick, those who are poor – the people the world forgets are the ones Jesus brings into the center.  “The first shall be last in the kingdom of God,” he says.  Three times, he predicts that his counter-cultural message will provoke the authorities, that he will be killed and in three days, rise again.

But his disciples don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them.  Try as they might, they just can’t see it.  James and John think discipleship will lead to political power if Jesus is the messiah, and they ask him to sit at his left and his right.  The rich man thinks adherence to the 10 commandments will be his ticket to the kingdom.  But Christ challenges all of them to embrace humility instead.  To walk the way of the cross.

So Mark shows us one more time what it means to be a disciple of Jesus.  Mark wants us to notice the irony, that the blind man can see Jesus clearly, can see who he is – calling out, Jesus, son of David! – naming Christ the Messiah, when those closest to Jesus don’t understand what that means.  Bartimaeus believes Jesus will heal him, so he persists in crying out, even though the crowds shush him, and try to silence him.

In Biblical times, a blind man would have had no means of livelihood, no place in polite society.  He would have been destitute, an outsider among outsiders.  His cloak would have been spread in front of him to catch the coins tossed by pilgrims on their way out of Jericho, heading towards Jerusalem as Jesus was.

Remember the story of the rich man, who was challenged by Jesus to sell everything, give the proceeds to the poor, and follow him?  The man wouldn’t, or couldn’t do it – he went away grieving, the story goes, because he had many possessions.  When Jesus calls out to Bartimaeus, the blind beggar is willing to jump up, leaving his cloak – likely the only garment he owns – behind in the dust of the road, to follow Jesus on the way.

For Mark, followers of Jesus must be bold, persistent, courageous, and humble.  We must be able to see the world around us clearly, even when others refuse to open their eyes to reality.  We must be like Bartimaeus — willing to leave everything behind in our haste to follow where Christ is leading.

My first year here, Kate Foster and McKenna Lewellen took me on a tour of the city, a tour that they often led for groups visiting the Center.  We went down to the inner harbor, over to East Baltimore near Hopkins hospital – which I now know is where the old Faith church building is.  We went to West Baltimore, and saw the old entertainment district along Pennsylvania Avenue, and the rows of vacant rowhouses of that showed the painful impact of disinvestment.  As we crossed neighborhoods, they pointed out how roads changed names as we moved from one part of town to another.  How affluence gave way to poverty in the span of just a few blocks.  And I began to see how red lines drawn on a map years ago persist in the life of the city today, dividing neighborhoods, sequestering wealth, abandoning neighborhood schools, and creating what Lawrence Brown named the Black butterfly.

It was as if the static of chance, the static that says this is just the way it is, the way the city grew, the way we who have choice continue to choose where and how we live and work – faded away, and the image of the racist policies that led to such disparity came into sharp relief.

I wonder if once you see those magic eye images, you can always see them – or if you have to go through the process every time to be able to grasp the image.  If it still takes some time, to be reminded of what’s there.

I wonder for how long Bartimaeus treasured his newfound sight – if every morning he awoke, blinking in the first light of dawn, praising God for opening his eyes to see the beauty and the bright truth of the world around him – the precious faces of his family, the smiles and crinkling eyes of his closest friends.

Our task as people of faith is to look past the static that blinds us to the truth of the world as it is.  And to follow Jesus as Bartimaeus did – once our eyes are opened – by seeking to challenge the forces of exclusion and oppression.  By building communities of care.  By holding on to the bright, shimmering truth when we glimpse it – a world suffused with the grace and goodness of God is to be treasured.

I know that watching or reading the news over the next few weeks is going to be challenging.  The last few weeks of this divisive, difficult election cycle are not going to be pretty.

Parker Palmer observes that “it takes no special talent to see what’s ugly, numbing, depressing, and death dealing in our world.  Staying aware of what’s good, true, and beautiful demands that we open our eyes, minds, and hearts, and keep them open.  …With eyes wide open, we can begin to see beauty in the most surprising places, not only in nature, but in human nature.  That’s what will give us the inspiration, strength, and courage to resist all that’s wrong and work for what’s right… Keep your eyes open, and keep hope alive.”[3]

May it be so.

[1] Stinson, Liz, “The Hidden History of Magic Eye, the Optical Illusion that Briefly Took Over the World,” July 1, 2022, Aiga Eye on Design, https://eyeondesign.aiga.org/the-hidden-history-of-magic-eye-the-optical-illusion-that-briefly-took-over-the-world/

[2] Ibid.

[3] Palmer, Parker J. Facebook post reflecting on Mary Oliver’s poem “Mindful.” January 29, 2019, https://www.facebook.com/share/p/emBosMPmatsKdTi4/

Cat Goodrich
Faith Presbyterian Church, Baltimore, MD
October 13, 2024

Faith is an Action Verb
Mark 10:17-31

Black Mountain Presbyterian Church is a thriving congregation that sits right outside of the town center of Black Mountain – a vibrant main drag, with local galleries, shops, and restaurants, that was once home to the radical Black Mountain School.  The church sits far enough away from the Swannanoa River and its tributary, Flat Rock Creek, that it escaped the worst of the flooding two weeks ago.  But along with the rest of the town, they lost power and water, had no cell service, and were suddenly cast into tragedy and uncertainty when Helene swept in.

As the floodwaters receded and it became clear that many neighbors had lost their homes, and many,

many more were stranded by broken roads and failed infrastructure, the church sprang into action.  It emptied its fridges and began cooking hot meals outside under tents, feeding the folks who were camped out in cars along the road in Black Mountain.  As soon as supplies began to be trucked in, the church became a distribution point, setting up a triage area to receive and share food and other essential items.

Today, two weeks later, they are overflowing with donations.  The spacious narthex has become a food pantry, stacked to the ceiling with canned goods, lined with shelves brimming with soups and instant meals.  Hallways are piled high with cleaning supplies, gloves and buckets and bleach – all you’d need to clear the muck and mud out of a flooded house.  Their open fellowship hall has tables filled with diapers, medicine, and more.  Volunteers from as far away as Louisiana are helping sort, organize, and distribute things to the people who need them.  They’ve received so many contributions, they’re using a big hall in nearby Montreat as overflow storage.  And still, a team is outside – cooking and serving hot meals to their waterlogged neighbors.  The congregation has turned into a hub for community needs.

When Jesus says, all who follow me will have plenty of brothers and sisters and mothers in this life and in the life to come, I can’t help but think about that church, and the story of how they have sprung into action to care for their community in the wake of this tragedy.  Because what does family do if it doesn’t feed you, help shelter you, make sure you have what you need to get through?  Pastor Mary Katherine Robinson observed – “It’s bringing strangers together and making them friends, and that’s beautiful to watch.”[1]

“Good teacher,” the man asks: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Many of us have pondered this question at one point or another.  How can we be sure we are saved?  How do we get to heaven is a question commonly asked in our culture, or as I’m more likely to phrase it – how can we find our way into the reign of God?

These aren’t everyday, lighthearted questions.  These are questions that might weigh heavy on our souls, the ones that keep us up in the middle of the night.  The worry over getting it right drove the rich man to fall on his knees at Jesus’s feet, so concerned was he about salvation.  Still, they aren’t questions that we as Presbyterians spend a lot of time talking about.  And here’s why: as my friend and colleague Shannon Webster liked to say – quoting, I think, his old theology professor, “we believe God loves us not because we are good, but because God is good.”

And we remember this each week as we confess our faults and failures together in our prayer of confession.  We name collective shortcomings big and small, and have time to reflect in silence on our personal ones.  And each week, with a splash of baptismal waters, we are assured – there is nothing we can do and nothing we can fail to do that will separate us from God’s love.  Salvation is to be found not in anything that we do, but rather by the grace and love of God made known in Christ and community.

Still: Jesus tells the man: Sell what you have, give the money to the poor, and follow me, Jesus’s response to this man is typical.  Enigmatic.  Challenging.  It’s so upsetting the man leaves, upset, grieving.  The only time in the gospel stories when Christ invites someone to follow and is turned down!

Jesus turns the man’s concern about himself – what must I do to inherit eternal life – outwards, into concern for others.  Jesus shifts the focus – from personal piety to community service and generosity.  And shifts the time frame – from what might happen one day, in a far off eternity to how the man responds to immediate needs, here and now.  Maybe the teacher is teaching us that service is an outward expression of inner convictions – care for others and concern for people who are poor is a demonstration of discipleship.  What if it is our generosity and care for one another that saves us?

The core of Jesus’ teaching to this rich man is that wealth is an impediment to grace.  Our stuff gets in the way of our ability to be disciples.  It insulates us from reliance on God and one another.

I wonder how we hear this truth as American Christians.  Evangelical scholar Ron Sider calls us Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger.  Plenty of interpreters have tried to explain this story away, but I believe we need to hear it now more than ever.  Because of our social location.  Because of our shared wealth.  Because we have enough, and when we have enough, God calls us to generosity.

There is a Japanese theologian named Kosuke Koyama who says that though we live in a fast-paced world, God is a slow God.  God moves, Koyama says, at three miles per hour – the speed that Jesus moved as he walked and talked through Galilee.   He writes: “The work of God goes on in the depth of our life, whether we notice or not, whether we are currently hit by storm or not, at three miles an hour. It is the speed we walk and therefore it is the speed the love of God walks.”[2]  The work of God in the world is unlikely to be at a pace of our own choosing.  IT seldom happens quickly.  But the Spirit is still at work.

We come together in this place week after week to hear and be reminded of the love of God, and the call of our loving God to give and care generously.  To look beyond ourselves and see the needs around us, and to discern together what good we can do.  Not because our salvation depends on it – God’s got that covered already – but because Faith is an action verb.  It is something that we do together.  Because we trust God is at work, albeit slowly, we lend our hands and hearts to the task of loving our neighbors, of advocating for change.  We give generously, trusting that God will use what we offer.  And trusting that our community, this community, will support us when needs arise.

I’m grateful for the wisdom of the deacons in creating the DEAR fund – a resource available to members and friends of this church who have emergency needs.  Medical bills, car repairs, rental assistance, help recovering after a fire – the DEAR fund has helped bridge the gap for folks in need in our Faith family.

Yesterday, our kitchen and fellowship hall were filled with folks chopping, sauteeing, prepping casseroles and gift bags for folks who are in homebound, or otherwise in need of a little help and care.

I am grateful for the care and example of Black Mountain Presbyterian Church.  But you know what?  I am also grateful for the care and example of this family of Faith.

[1] Robinson, Mary Katherine, qtd. By Carter, Darla in “Black Mountain Presbyterian Church and Volunteers bringing ‘beautiful spirit’ to feeding and supporting the community,” Presbyterian News Service, 10/8/24, https://www.presbyterianmission.org/story/black-mountain-presbyterian-church-and-volunteers-bringing-beautiful-spirit-to-feeding-and-supporting-the-community/?utm_content=311293034&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook&hss_channel=fbp-22627435207

[2] Kosuke Koyama, “Three Mile an Hour God,” in Three Mile an Hour God: Biblical Reflections (Orbis, 1979), 6-7. Found on External Word blog, Nicholas Lash, Theological quotes, 9/20/13, https://externalword.blog/2013/09/20/kosuke-koyama-on-the-speed-of-god/