Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Corners & Mercy

Yesterday, James and Cole and I viewed Rob Bell's DVD "Corner," based on the instruction in Deuteronomy that we are to leave "corners" of our vineyards, wheat fields or whatever--corners of our bounty--for those who are poor or strangers in our midst. We followed that with a most interesting discussion of about "charity," "welfare," the working poor, people who abuse the system, and so forth.

Today I notice that Bishop Jake has posted his sermon from last Sunday on his sermon blog, and it strikes me as a relevant follow-up to our discussion. Here is an excerpt:

Hearing Bartimaeus 

sermon by Bishop Jake at Grace Church, Monroe, Sunday, 10/28/12

I love movies.  All sorts of movies.  I love babies.  All sorts of babies.  But my heart sinks when I see parents bringing a baby into a movie theater that I’ve settled into.  A crying infant will break the spell of the movie experience and focus all my attention on a baby in distress.
Even with booming special effects or a swelling musical score, the baby’s cry will force everything else into the background of my awareness.  It’s not that I get angry at the parents or resent the little one for being hungry or scared or messy.  I just can’t help responding to a sobbing papoose.
It’s difficult for anyone to ignore crying babies.  Our brains respond to wailing infants before we have a chance to think about it.  A recent study from Oxford University demonstrated just that.
Mary Cassatt's "Mother Jean Nursing Her Baby"

The study involved thirty childless adults who had no special experience in caring for children.  The researchers played recordings of babies and adults crying, as well as sounds of animals in distress.
Brain scans revealed that each of the participants responded to the sounds, but only the baby’s sobs produced activity in the brain’s emotional centers.  The response time, by the way, was 100 milliseconds.
Our emotions motivate us to act.  When babies cry, we feel an urge to do something about it.  They need help and they are powerless to help themselves.  We are hardwired to come to their rescue with milk or formula or a pacifier or a fresh diaper.
Of course I don’t do this in a movie theater because the parents are right there.  Usually one of them grabs a diaper bag or scurries out of the theater for a few minutes.  But my blood pressure goes up precisely because some primitive part of me is straining to make it all better for a helpless baby.
We are hardwired for compassion toward babies.  By contrast, we have learned to tune out cries for help from others.  Television, radio, the internet, and newspapers inundate us with stories of human suffering.  People are devastated by war and natural disaster, and famine pushes millions to starvation.  In our daily rounds we encounter the poor, the homeless, the illiterate, the mentally ill, and the addicted.
To borrow a phrase from William James, if we didn’t filter out these cries for help we would be lost in a buzzing, booming confusion of misery.  There are too many cries for help competing for our attention, and we have too little time and too few resources to deal with even a small percentage of these cries.  And so, to focus on what we need to do for ourselves and for the small circle of friends and family who depend upon us, we learn to filter out the cries.
And yet Jesus teaches us to be merciful: to hear with our hearts the cries for help around us and to respond with the same help that Jesus has already given us.  We have received mercy so that we can show mercy.  A vital congregation is known for its works of mercy.
Jesus’ healing of blind Bartimaeus teaches us some helpful things about being a merciful congregation.  That story invites us to explore three questions:
What is mercy?
What are the works of mercy?
What effect do works of mercy have on the believing community?
for the remainder of the sermon, click here
 

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