Blindly Following 10/24/21
Blindly Following
Ps 126; Mark 10:46-52
Ps 126
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb. May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
Mark 10:46-52
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.
Prayer – Living and loving God, you reached out to us in love through your Son, Christ Jesus, who lived a life of reaching out to those who are sick and hurting, blind and on the margins. We shout out for you to give us relief from our ills and misfortunes, hoping for your healing, begging for your soothing balm. Boldly we ask for one more gift – the gift of grace to follow you, to have our gaze wrenched off of our needs and moved towards the needs of others. Grant us the grace to follow even if it is blindly – amen.
Helen Keller may have been the most famous blind person who ever lived. If not her, then perhaps Ray Charles or Stevie Wonder could lay claim to that infamous honor. Helen Keller lived a life of bravery and inspiration in her deafness and blindness there is no doubt. She once wrote a story in a magazine entitled, Three Days to See.” In that article she outlined what things she would like to see if she were granted just three days of sight. It was a powerful, thought provoking article. On the first day she said she wanted to see friends particularly the face of Anne Sullivan who was her teacher for so long. She talked about looking into the eyes of her friends but mostly into the eyes of her three dogs, Scottie, Darkie and Helga. Day two she would spend seeing God’s creation, watching the ‘thrilling miracle by which night is transformed into day, being awed by the scenes of nature and beauty that we frequently don’t notice in the busyness of our lives. She talked of going to museums to see human history for the first time, taking in the artistic masterpieces her eyes have never seen. The third day she would spend in her home of New York watching the busy city and the workday of the present. She concluded her powerful article in The Atlantic Monthly with these words, “I who am blind can give one hint to those who see – Use your eyes as if tomorrow you were stricken blind.”
Anybody who has lived in a big city, or even driven down most highways, has likely been faced with beggars – people holding signs like “Homeless, Hungry” and “Anything Will Help.” Maybe we feel compassion and stop to give them some money or food. Maybe we feel anxious and avoid eye contact as we drive by. Chances are, however we respond in that moment, we share one thing in common – a sense of helplessness. Even if we give a few dollars, we know that it falls short of offering true empowerment and hope. We know money buys a bit of food, the comfort of fresh socks, or maybe the solace of one liquor bottle. Soon, it will run out and the person will be in the exact same situation tomorrow.
Furthermore, it seems we share this in common with the beggar him or herself. He or she seems willing to maintain his or her place in society, getting a bit of comfort here or there, without any real hope of getting ahead of the tremendous need that comes with the rising sun each day. Maybe ‘willing’ isn’t the right word; perhaps trying to make peace with their circumstances in life might make more sense. Either way, it feels hopeless in so many ways. There doesn’t seem to be a way out of the reality of poverty and hopelessness and so many beggars just try to find a way to cope.
As bad as blindness is in the 21st century, however, it was much worse in Jesus’ day. Today a blind person at least has the hope of living a useful life with proper training. But in first century Palestine blindness meant that you would be subjected to abject poverty. You would be reduced to begging for a living. You lived at the mercy and the generosity of others. This is life, sitting in the dark, hoping, praying that enough support will be received from neighbors and strangers to live another week.
Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. If there is anything he doesn’t need now it is an interruption. His earthly ministry is coming to a close; he is giving his disciples their last lessons along the way. He is walking with a large crowd. He is on the Jericho Road, a tough road, 23 miles long to Jerusalem, climbing some 4000 feet to the city, and back then this road was known as dangerous because of the thieves and robbers who ambushed travelers along the way.
At the main gate into Jericho, where the crowds gathered in expectation of the great deeds of Jesus, the blind man Bartimaeus sat in his customary place, begging cup in hand. He wasn’t born there. He’d been assigned to that spot by the powers that be, or perhaps by public consensus. In their eyes, that was where he belonged, on the outskirts of the city, not in a prominent place where it would be easy to beg for help, but on the margins where he wouldn’t interrupt everyday life too much. It was here where helpless Bartimaeus’ interrupted and intersected Jesus’ way.
What would it be like to sit by the roadside on the edge of town, hearing but not seeing, begging for a living? Perhaps he was tossed a coin now and then. Yet, did people really see him sitting there or was he little more than a fixture along the side of the road, a poor creature to be pitied by some with feelings, but never to be invited along, never to be included, or given anything of value.
I suppose people knew Bartimaeus was there – he was always there, like so many others, the lame, the lepers, the afflicted – the ‘less-than’s.’ And nothing could be done. People knew he was there. He was a pain and an embarrassment to their town – especially when they had visiting dignitaries, like Jesus and the disciples. They would have to pass him on the way into or out of Jericho and Bartimaeus had no shame. He would rattle his cup and call out, “Alms, alms! Have mercy on me, a blind beggar!” Yes, he was an embarrassment to the town, and people would try to shut him up when the VIP’s hit town.
So it was on the day that Jesus came to Jericho. Bartimaeus had somehow heard about Jesus – he was blind not deaf! And when he heard the excited crowd approaching, he called out loud and clear to Jesus; “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And the people of Jericho and in the crowd were embarrassed and didn’t want Jesus to be offended. Jesus was the most special guest who had come along the way in a while and they didn’t want anything to upset the status quo. So they ‘shushed’ Bartimaeus along the way.
But Bartimaeus was persistent! His cries became louder and louder. Did he think he might have a chance to be seen by Jesus? Did he hope beyond hope that Jesus might heal his sight, giving him vision for the first time in his life? Such thoughts surely spurred him on, and Bartimaeus, the lowly blind beggar, called out even louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” I can imagine you could hear the crowd try even harder to quiet the embarrassment on the edge of town, ‘shut him up, would you! Now!’
Jesus changed all that when he stopped – despite the protests of those who thought Bartimaeus didn’t deserve Jesus’ attention, those who thought there were far more deserving people around, Jesus stopped and called for this blind man to be brought to him. Jesus said to the sightless man, “What do you want me to do for you?” I can imagine that Bartimaeus had heard that question a 1000 times before – from his brother, his mother, the kind stranger. His answer had always been ‘could you spare me a coin,’ ‘could you lead me to the well,’ ‘could you pass the bread,’ ‘could you lead me home.’ For a man living cross-legged in the street begging, who might have chosen a snarky reply – ‘I want to see the sorry folks who have thrown a stone and taken a shekel from my cup, the fellows who insult me all day, everyday . . . but he didn’t.’ Instead, Bartimaeus, simply said, I want to see. And Jesus said, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately, Bartimaeus could see and surprise of surprises, Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the way.
For me part of the tension, part of the learning from this passage comes in the manner that the community blindly follows the status quo of making sure the blind, lame, lepers, less-than’s are kept at arm’s distance from the rest of the community. Blindly following custom to make sure that the marginalized are kept on the margins touches a place deep in my soul, a place of compassion and if I’m honest, a place of guilt. Why is it that we are so ready to pass the beggar at the top of the exit ramp coming off of the Interstate? Why is it that we scoff at the prostitutes who are we willing to degrade themselves in order to have a few bucks for food and more than likely the next dose of pain-killers? For as long as I can remember every town in America has the ‘right side of town and across the tracks side of town.’ Avoiding those on the wrong side of the tracks or those on the margins seems to be a blind followed letter of communal living – why is that so?
In contrast, we have Bartimaeus, a blind less-than who has been delegated to the margins of town; an embarrassment and pain for all who see him as well as those who are blind to his predicament. There were those who blindly followed Jesus because he brought healing and fed thousands on occasions. There were those who were Jesus-groupies who blindly followed just to see the excitement and scandal he raised along the way. When Jesus proclaimed Bartimaeus’ faith and healing, Bart was free at last! Free to do what he wanted. Free to see, free to go wherever his sight led him, free to follow every beautiful sight, the trees, the flowers, the meadows, the sea, a pretty woman! He was free at last to go anywhere, even inside the gates of Jericho where he could join the status quo. But Bartimaeus chose to follow, perhaps blindly, Jesus, because now Bartimaeus was no longer sightless, he could see.
There is a striking contrast between the crowd and the blind beggar in these scenes. There is a word of judgment and a word of healing grace! And either word can speak to us – or both words can. Far too often we blindly follow the crowd and perhaps we know what it is like to be blind. Bartimaeus was one who followed, among the other hurting, oppressed, victimized, suffering, hungry ones, and became a disciple. Jesus said it was his faith which made him well, his ability to see, even when he didn’t see, what Jesus was really all about.
William Willimon tells the story of meeting a man who had come up the hard way. Yet through a loving mother, encouraging teachers, and a great scholarship at the university, he now was lifted out of poverty and established in an affluent neighborhood as a very successful attorney. A group from Willimon’s church had asked him to take care of an indigent young man who had run into trouble with the law.
When the once poor, now rich lawyer told Willimon he would not take the young man’s case, he said, “I’ve thought that I ought to go back and do something for those who are less fortunate. But I’ve worked hard to get where I am, I’m so glad to be out of the ghetto and all the poverty there, that I just think it’s time for me to live a little and to enjoy the fruits of my success.”
Willimon says he can understand the man and he can understand why all those whose lives had once been so debilitated by various illnesses of various kinds, now healed, thought that it was high time to do a little living, to look after themselves, to enjoy the fruits of their good health. Willimon says he can understand how they left others to bear the burdens of discipleship, others could blindly follow Jesus.
The story of the healing, and the response of Bartimaeus invites us to ask, What do I want from Jesus? We look at Jesus, and too many of us see him as a solution to all our problems, freedom from our aches and cares, a magic wand waved over our lives to fix whatever ails us and set us up for a hope-full future. Is Jesus our Lord or our Santa Claus? Are we his faithful followers or only his pestering people? Perhaps the most insightful, faithful questions we could ask is, “Jesus what do you want from me?”The most important words in his story are not, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ It’s the words, “And immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.” May it be so for you and for me – thanks be to God – amen.