Sunday, October 25, 2009

The Blind make better guides

a Sermon for Proper 25B
Text: Mark 10:46-52

God of Hope and Wonder, we are grateful for your servant Bartimaeus, for his example for us, and we ask that you be with us—help us to see what you want us to see. Amen.

This morning’s gospel might feel a bit disembodied. It begins as Jesus and Co. enter Jericho and then leave it. Its location doesn’t serve to remind us where we are in Jesus’s life or in his ministry. It might help us to note that this is the last passage before they get to Jerusalem. This is Jesus’s last chance to teach his disciples something. To help them get it—to see what he’s trying to tell them.

It also serves in the Gospel of Mark as a second bookend with another healing story. Back in chapter 8, Mark heals a blind man outside of Bethsaida, and then again, another one here, in chapter 10, outside of Jericho. These blind men bookends serve to inform a sequence in which Jesus attempts to teach about discipleship. About what it means to be a follower of Jesus. We are given the opportunity to see these teachings in light of these two healings. And amid these teachings are examples of the disciples screwing up, misunderstanding Jesus, and just plain ignoring his instruction. With these two healing stories, Jesus hopes that the formerly blind will lead the spiritually blind.

In this lesson, we meet Bartimaeus, a blind beggar who shouts after Jesus for healing. We are given the picture of the outsider. His blindness, his practice as a beggar, and even his location on the outside of the city direct us to see Bartimaeus in this way. This man is on the outside—not even—looking in. This passage therefore gives us another example of the way Jesus interacts with the poor and the sick. His mind is on other things—he’s just foretold his own death and he’s getting close to walking through the gates that will lead him to the cross—and this man interrupts the journey to ask for help. And Jesus, of course, helps him.

For some of us, it is easy to focus on the outsider—the one that is ignored. We long to be the Good Samaritan and not the pious ones that walk on by. And nothing gets our “helper” antennas up like helping the blind. But Bartimaeus is something else: he’s also a beggar. For many of us, beggars are a different story. We get all righteous and we stand tall and we think “go get a job, ya lazy bum.” And then we feel guilty for thinking that and reach in our pockets and find a dollar and change and put it in their cup as we walk by. “Here you go” we grumble. The gospel is always teasing us into recognizing those people we seem to have a hard time wanting to help.

Many of us also have a hard time being an outsider. If you don’t believe me, ask a teenager what its like to be singled out of a group. Or a homeowner if she’s ever felt the pressure to mow the lawn more often or decorate the house in a certain way. We join fraternities and social organizations precisely because we want to be a part of a group—to be on the inside. And like James and John last week, we like to be the best insiders we can be.

But as much as we want to be insiders, we do it out of fear of being left out—of being alone. We are afraid to be the people that look different, act different, or even think different from the group. We want in.

This is natural, as we are social creatures by our very nature. We are designed to move in groups, to love and nurture one another. We aren’t really supposed to be alone.

But Bartimaeus offers us a unique vision of the outsider.

Throughout Mark’s gospel, Jesus is healing people, but none of them get a name. Except Bartimaeus. He gets a name. And more than that, his father is named. Only major players get this treatment. Bartimaeus is afforded status and power in the gospel simply because he is named in it. And because he has a name, he is not defined by his circumstances. He isn’t “The Blind Man from Jericho,” but Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. He is unique and different, not because of his difference (his blindness), but in spite of it. His difference is part of his identity, not his sole identity.

But the gospel doesn’t stop there. Bartimaeus is named in the Scripture before he is healed. This means that what makes Bartimaeus unique is outside of his blindness and not dependent on it: it’s his faith.

In other accounts of healing, the individuals are transformed: they preach the gospel and tell the world of the miracles that Jesus has done after they are healed. Or they witness Jesus’s miraculous power and then respond. But Bartimaeus’s faith predates the healing—and even more, the internal expectation of being healed. He doesn’t care to be healed, he asks to see! His faith exists outside of the healing. In other words, he was a follower of Jesus before he even met him.

And as the chapter ends, Jesus encourages Bartimaeus to do what the rest have done: to leave. He says “Go; your faith has made you well.” But what is Bartimaeus’s response? It says: “Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.” He followed Jesus “on the way”. Not just where Jesus was going physically, but spiritually.

Bartimaeus is named because he is a disciple. Not officially, of course. He didn’t get the ID card or name badge that says: “Bartimaeus—Disciple” on it. And unlike James and John, Bartimaeus is good at it. He sees what Jesus has to show him and is moved to live, act, and believe accordingly. We’re invited to see it, too; to be that kind of disciple. To share in a faith that isn’t dependent on what we get from God (or Jesus or the Spirit), but on our devotion. To risk devotion blindly without ever expecting to see.

In a little bit, we’ll be starting our Core Values Workshop. We’ll explore the values that are resident at St. Paul’s—the things that are here. The things that make St. Paul’s, St. Paul’s. We’ll learn things about ourselves, about who we are as a church. If you’re already excited about it like I am, then great! But if you’re a bit skeptical, try this on: the example we take from Bartimaeus isn’t about healing the nameless blind or being an outsider without identity, but about God’s grace with each of us—and with all of us. Like Bartimaeus, we have a name; we have history; we have identity that already exists. And, also like Bartimaeus, we have opportunity to demonstrate our faith. We have opportunity to participate as followers of Jesus on the way.

Bartimaeus’s faith wasn’t determined by his ability to see. It was his vision.