In our gospel reading for today, Jesus encounters a blind beggar named Bartimaeus. At one time, Bartimaeus could see clearly, and he was likely a useful member of society, but lately, his eyesight had been taken from him, and he was reduced to begging by the roadside. Bartimaeus shouts out to Jesus for restoration, ignoring the crowds who are ordering him to be quiet. And Jesus calls him over, and restores his sight, so that Bartimaeus can follow Jesus to Jerusalem...
On June 15, 1520, Pope Leo X issued the papal bull Exsurge Domine, attempting to censure 41 different ideas from the writings of the German monk, professor, and priest, Martin Luther. Over the preceding three years, Luther had written extensively about doctrines which were blind spots for the church – from the church's understanding of justification to the practice of selling indulgences. In a bid to restore the church to Scriptural truth, Luther shouted out in the most effective way possible for his time – the written word, delivered via the newly developed printing press. And we sit in a building that bears Luther's name this morning, grateful for his insight, because he KEPT shouting, even though the pope and his forces ordered Luther to be quiet....
Having never experienced blindness, it's hard for me to say what it felt like for Bartimaeus in our gospel reading. But it is noteworthy that instead of calling to Jesus for HELP, he calls out “Son of David, have MERCY on me.” Perhaps he saw his blindness as a form of punishment from God - a harsh bringing-back-down to earth, that left him useless to society and reduced to relying on charity. Perhaps the people around him saw his blindness as a form of punishment from God that he obviously deserved, and that's why they told him to shut up. If Bartimaeus had been comfortable with his affliction and his uselessness, perhaps this peer pressure would have been enough to keep Bartimaeus quiet. But instead, Bartimaeus was desperate, and he cried out even more loudly, until he got the attention of Jesus.
Back in 2002, the year I entered seminary, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada seemed to be a useful member of society. We boasted 182 thousand members across the country in over 500 congregations. We could afford to hold a national convention every two years, to which every congregation in the country could send representation. We had missionaries in foreign countries, and we were even selected to host the Tenth Lutheran World Federation Assembly in Winnipeg in 2003. That was then.
Today, the ELCIC is a shell of what it used to be. Although the ELCIC stopped publishing accurate membership numbers to its own website in 2015, it has posted an estimate of 93 thousand, but this is a number that likely reflects membership prior to the pandemic. The number that the ELCIC provided to the Lutheran World Federation for 2023 was just over 40 thousand – a drop of 78% in twenty-one years, four people out of five have gone missing. As someone who has watched this taking place, and has seen it on the inside, at least at the level of synod council, I KNOW it feels horrible to feel THAT useless – to feel like every synod or national discussion we have is just an agreement on how to rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. It feels horrible to be reduced to begging – begging the congregations to send in more at a time when they bring in less, begging the congregations to accept much smaller national conventions every three years to save costs, begging with special appeals to remember the church when planning the will for your estate. The concept that this crashing back to earth is a punishment from God, has crossed my mind on many, many occasions. How did we get to be...so blind?
It's tempting to get comfortable with being this useless! It's tempting to say, “as long as the church is still around to bury me, it's ok if isn't around for my grand-kids, cause they won't participate anyway.” It's tempting to claim that the shrinking of the church is somehow God's will, that we are making up in quality what we are losing in quantity. It's tempting to listen to the voices of peer pressure and political authority and culture – voices telling us to be quiet – and just sit back down on the side of the road with our tin cup – and dream of the days gone by when we could see clearly. It's tempting....because it's much easier than what we SHOULD be doing – shouting to get Jesus' attention. Shouting for Jesus to restore us....