Look Again

Sermon by Pr. Craig Mueller + Reformation Sunday, Lectionary 30 + Sunday, October 27, 2024

Following cataract surgery, patients talk about seeing more vibrant colors or different hues than before. After her cataract surgery, Ernest’s mom said, “Ernest, the microwave numbers are blue”!

We know what a difference glasses or contacts can be to help us see more clearly. And recall the optometrist asking us look at two slides and say, “is it better like this, or this?” Sometimes I think the whole thing is kind of fun, but other times it can feel stressful. Especially when I can’t tell the difference!

It's one thing to see. It’s another thing to see. 

I’m intrigued with a book with the title: Look Again: The Power of Noticing What Was Always There. Now that sounds like spirituality to me. But one of the authors is a neuroscience professor. How many of us lose the sparkle of life, and stop noticing all the good things around us, and even get accustomed to some of the not-so-good things? Why is it that the first day of vacation is the best and then each day we get more used to it, and it loses its sparkle? What is exciting on Monday can get boring on Friday.

We get acclimated to great jobs—or relationships—or works of art—or churches. And we stop seeing them anymore. It’s called habituation. Our brains focus on the new and the unexpected. So we stop noticing what was always there. For example, we live on the 11th floor of a high-rise, with a view of the lake a half mile away. There are certainly more striking views higher up. But when guests come over, they comment on the amazing view. Something I got used to after many years.

When we leave our normal surroundings or predictable routines, and then come back, we see with new eyes.

In our gospel, Bartimaeus isn’t seeing anything. And he doesn’t have much going for him. He is a beggar, with no possessions. And he’s blind, unable to see the sparkling world around him. And his disability stigmatizes him in the community.

But Bartimaeus isn’t going to let life pass him by. He refuses to be habituated—your new word of the day—by his dismal circumstances. He makes a scene. He shouts to get Jesus’ attention. The disciples tell him to shut up. But that makes Bartimaeus yell all the louder: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Here we have another poor, insignificant person who gets it, who sees. Jesus tells him: “your faith has made you well.” Two weeks ago, the rich man was consumed with his abundant possessions. Last week James and John were focused on prestige and position.

Jesus asks Bart the same question he asked James and John last week: “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus wants just one thing: “My teacher, let me see again.”

Jesus declares to him: “your faith has made you well.” Bartimaeus regains his sight. The world sparkles again. And he follows Jesus on the way. In Mark, “on the way” is code for the path of the cross and resurrection.

It’s humbling for us to admit that we have so much yet don’t often see what we have. It’s humbling to admit that whether we have contacts, glasses, recent cataract surgery, or 20/20 vision, that we can’t see. The truth of who we are. The grace in front of our eyes. The deeper realities of life.

Look again! We habituate and get used to the daily news of endless killings and the humanitarian crisis in Gaza. What will it take, in the midst of endless violence, for those on both sides to truly see each other as siblings, created in the image of God?

For Lutherans, the Reformation is the theological gem that propelled a reforming movement in the Church. A movement that teaches us look again, to see with new eyes. To see the world sparkle with divine grace and mercy. 

Like Bartimaeus’ healing, Christ sets us free. Free to see our neighbors with new eyes. For centuries, Roman Catholics were the “other.” Now we turn to greater unity with those of other religions or none. Or these days, those on the other side of the red-blue divide. Perhaps a good reason to be decked in red today! Look again. Red. Holy Spirit. Reform. Change. Passion. Vibrancy. Sparkle.

And in these days when we are overwhelmed with election coverage or anxiety about the world, there is an invitation to see more than only politics in our field of vision.

Some of you know that I am a huge Stephen Sondheim fan. One of his musicals, Sunday in the Park with George, is about art and artists. And I mentioned this at the funeral of Richard Bough, one of our community, who was an artist, and who died three years ago.

The musical is inspired by a painting—one you’ve probably seen—that resides at the Art Institute of Chicago: “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte” by George Seurat.

Sunday in the Park with George is a fictional tale of Seurat’s life and the creation of the painting. The artist struggles to be relevant and heard. An underlying question is “what is your art worth,” but underneath is a more fundamental question: “what are you worth?” In one of the final songs, “Move On,” Dot—George’s lover and muse—

appears in a vision to give him guidance. Here are a few of the lyrics:

Look at what you want
Not at where you are
Not at what you'll be
Look at all the things you've done for me

Opened up my eyes
Taught me how to see
Notice every tree

Look again! Teach me how to see. Notice every tree. It’s one of the reasons I come to worship. And that I value spiritual practices. We are lifelong learners. Habituation—there’s that word again—is going to happen over and over. So my prayer is never ending as well. Open my eyes. Teach me how to see. Notice every tree.

Lutherans are proud of their theological Reformation heritage. Grace is everything for us! We gather as the people of God. around good news—around word and table, gifted by community and music and silence. To learn how to see with new eyes. Not only the sparkle of autumn colors but the cross and the suffering in our world.

Look again! It’s one thing to see. It’s another thing to see. To see with new eyes.