Blind and yet discerning

So I was preaching on Sunday – Irvin came back late on Saturday night from Phoenix, Arizona where he taught an Introduction to New Testament class to a group of lay leaders. I always take advantage of such circumstances to snatch up an opportunity to preach…

I chose a text from the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus heals Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, in the last verses of chapter 10 (10:46-52). This text shows us a man deprived of his sight but more aware of what is going on than anyone else around. This encounter is the counterpart of the meeting that opens the chapter 10: the dialogue between Jesus and the rich young man who refuses to follow him because he cannot part with his wealth.  

Bartimeaus calls Jesus “son of David”, a messianic title that no one else uses in the Gospel of Mark. He does not hesitate to throw his cloak aside so he can reach Jesus as fast as he can, in the midst of a crowd so without much hope of ever finding it again. His cloak – probably the only protection this beggar had against the cold Mid-Eastern nights… And when Jesus eventually told him “go”, Bartimeaus instead chose to follow the one who just saved him.

Indeed, Bartimeaus has a lot to teach us on perspicacity in the midst of darkness. I took it personally: I thought for an instant that I would not be able to read out loud the text of the Gospel, as the lines looked so small. Being unable to see when you are getting ready to explore a text about a blind man, this is true irony. This is time for me to stop hiding from the hard truth. I need glasses…

The lectionary has a good sense of humor

One of the biblical texts this morning, according to the lectionary, came from Exodus 17. Hebrews became thirsty in the desert and turned to Moses with anguish. Moses cried out to God. The answer came fast: strike the rock at Horeb and water will come out, ordered the Eternal. So it was.

I did not preach on Exodus this morning, yet those verses came to my mind when we found out at 9:00 AM that water was cut off at the church. No bathroom, no kitchen on the day where we were expecting adults and kids for a morning of bible study then worship followed by lunch.

The white building is our church.
Picture by Rev. Jett Brooks

Who to call? Who to reach on a Sunday morning? The answer was complex: the building belongs to the Puyallup tribe and sits on the tribal cemetery. Eventually, Irvin was able to reach someone at the casino, open every day, our neighbor on the other side of a huge parking lot, who was compassionate as well as knowledgeable and called the right persons. A few minutes before the service started at 11:00 AM, water came out.

The lunch that followed was a fundraiser for our Children ministry and it offered fry bread and Indian Tacos. We were delighted to have Tom and Bev, elders of our church join us. Bev has been through quite an ordeal with her diabetes and lost her two legs. Physicians thought several times she would not make it. But she was here with us, vibrant and humorous. Her family and husband care for her with love and dedication.

Is the Lord among us or not? This was the questions pondered by the Hebrews when they feared dying of thirst. (Exodus 17:7). For the past 10 years that we have been serving Church of the Indian fellowship, we witnessed the answer of this faithful community: the Lord is among us.

Working on my inner cocker spaniel

It is said that, after a while, puppies and their owners tend to look alike. This week, out of utter dedication, I made a decisive step toward canine condition, as I found out I had an ear inflammation. My physician prescribed antibiotic drops and recommended that I would tilt my head when applying them so that they would reach out the irritated area – the same advices our vet gave us in similar circumstances. Cockers spaniels often need ear drops…

So I spent a week surrounded with haze – sounds would reach me beyond a padded distance. It is also painful. Aleve does its work but at night, my ear still wakes me up. So I will confess it. I also used some stronger medicine leftover from the prescription made by my dentist earlier this month after he pulled out one of my premolars.

Which leads me to some vernacular translation. In France, when you get hurt, you cry “aïe” (pronounced “i”). I took me a little while to realize that in the US, you should utter “ouch”.

Another notable difference with France: how to get your medicine. In France, pharmacies are stores of their own, usually painted with green colors as it goes with its national ensign, a green cross. You bring your prescription and you don’t have to wait or come back: the pharmacist straightaway brings up and gives you the box of the medicine you need. No counting of pills.  The first time I needed a prescription when I started living in the US, I was puzzled by the statement “it will be ready in one hour”. How come picking up a box on a shelf required this amount of time???

My ear is now healing – to my relief. After improving my listening skills this summer during my internship at the hospital, not being able to simply hear properly was frustrating! And I now care for two sets of silky furry ears with a renewed compassion. 

Blueberry Thief!

We are very happy with our blueberry bush this year. Summer was rainy and cold so it bloomed late but with fortitude and its fruits came to maturity early this September. Even before harvest, I noticed that bunches of fruits would vanish, as if delicately picked while no leaves would be damaged. The mystery just got solved… No comment.