Readings
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 126
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 10:46-52
Over the last few weeks, we have had a theme of blindness and recovery of sight in what we have read from the Gospel of Mark. Whether it is Jesus literally healing the blind, or the inability of the disciples to see the truth of Jesus’ mission, or the crowds that follow Jesus failing to recognize the preferred place of the poor and the ill, again and again we see a Jesus who calls those he encounters to the truth of who he is and to the wholeness and light that he brings.
Today’s Gospel story is no exception. This morning, we encounter a man by the name of Bartimaeus. He is described as a blind beggar, meaning that for whatever reason he has no family to care for him and is homeless begging by the side of the road. Hearing that Jesus is coming he cries out to him for mercy. The crowd that follows is scandalized by his behavior and tries to shush him, but Jesus having heard Bartimaeus tells them to call him over. Bartimaeus throws off his cloak and hurries over to Jesus. Jesus asks him what he wants and Bartimaeus says “My teacher, let me see again.” To which Jesus tells him that his faith has made him well, and we hear that Bartimaeus’ sight is restored and he follows Jesus on his way.
Like most miracle stories we can easily dumb down this story to simply being about the miraculous restoration of Bartimaeus’ sight. We can simply make it about the power of Jesus as the Son of God. And don’t get me wrong. Jesus is the Son of God and there is something miraculous about the healing of Bartimaeus, but we would do well to be attentive to all the elements of this story and not just focus on what is obvious.
First off, let’s look at Bartimaeus’ name. It literally means “son of honor.” This is ironic since Bartimaeus is in a humble and desperate situation. He is blind, he is without family or home, and he is reduced to begging. But while the crowd around him, and perhaps us, see Bartimaeus as among the last and the least, Jesus sees something/someone else.
You see that while Bartimaeus might be physically blind he is not blind to who Jesus is. He calls out to Jesus as “Son of David” recognizing him as the Messiah. And then subsequently when before Jesus, he calls him “my teacher” recognizing Jesus as a source of Godly wisdom. It is a man of faith that comes before Jesus and, as Jesus himself says, it is his faith that makes him well.
Faith and sight are at the heart of this story. It is faith that restores the sight of the blind and it is misplaced faith that creates blindness in the crowd when confronted with Bartimaeus.
We can easily judge the crowd following Jesus for their unkind behavior towards Bartimaeus, but we might do well to remember that, in Jesus’ time, illness was deemed a sign of sin in the life of the afflicted or in their forebears. Buying into the religious and cultural norms of the day it is easy to see how someone who recognizes Jesus as a man connected to God might want to push away the defiled or unacceptable.
How often do we do such behaviors even when well-intended? How often do we presume the narrative of the homeless beggar or the person with substance abuse disorder? It is easy to buy into the cultural boundaries we grow up with and to presume when and where it is appropriate for someone to be present or to be acknowledged.
But such thinking, even when we are intentionally people of faith, can create blindness. Why? Because, like the crowd that followed Jesus, we put our faith not in the mystery of Christ, but in the certainty of what we know.
In contrast, Bartimaeus’ faith is shown profoundly in his willingness to throw off his cloak. His one source of warmth and comfort. He abandons all that he has in order to encounter Jesus. He willingly steps away from the life he knows and into the mystery of being in Christ’s presence.
All of us, to one degree or another, struggle with blindness to the living presence of God in our lives. All of us are, unfortunately, like those in the crowd missing the in-breaking of God in our lives through those on the margins. And all of us, like Bartimaeus, long for the healing and light giving presence of Christ.
The question is whether we will be people of faith, and in what or in whom will we place that faith. Will our faith be grounded in the known and familiar things that give us a sense of certainty? Will we stay grounded in a faith that refuses to embrace the shocking and challenging teaching of Jesus? Will we be satisfied with a domesticated faith that is more focused on our comfort than our transformation?
Or will we, like Bartimaeus, throw off the mantel of cultural Christianity and embrace the radical shape of Jesus’ own life and teaching? Will we step into the unknown, trusting that our teacher will guide us? Will we embrace the uncertainty of life in God, knowing that it will lead to healing, wholeness, and light?
We, my friends, are being called to be more like Bartimaeus, and less like those in the crowd. Our task is to recognize that the God we seek and the life we long for is found not in comfortable certainty, but in a life lived in solidarity with those on the margins. It is in a willingness to let go of what we have in order to embrace what we long for. It is a form of faith that, even in the midst of fear and uncertainty, embraces the cross of Jesus.
Even now Jesus calls us and asks us “what do you want me to do for you?” What will be our answer? May we find the voice to ask for the restoration of our sight, and may we, with Bartimaeus find that our faith has made us well.