Holy Cross Monastery,
West Park, NY
Brother Randy Greve, n/OHC
BCP - Proper 21 B - Sunday 29 October 2006
Isaiah 59:(1-4)9-19
Hebrews 5:12-6:1,9-12
Mark 10:46-52
The main fall ritual in Texas for my family when I was growing up was a trip to the Renaissance Festival in Magnolia. I would eat a roasted turkey leg while browsing the shops, taking in the shows (especially jousting), and generally people-watching. Part of the atmosphere of the Renaissance Festival is a roaming band of actors in character who take the whole Renaissance theme maybe a little too far and interact with the patrons as a variety of colorful period personalities. Beggars were to be avoided because they would revel in humiliating some poor, unsuspecting soul and then pepper them with Renaissance-themed insults if they didn’t get a dollar or two - all in good-natured fun of course. One beggar I remember hearing from a distance had bandages over his eyes and was calling out in a loud British accent: “I’m blind. I’m blind! I’m so blind I cannot see that I cannot see.” That’s pretty blind.
Because I find this story so challenging and inspiring, I’d like to touch very briefly on several truths that come out at me rather than focus on just one.
The blind were, like the very young and very sick, among the social cast-offs of the New Testament culture. Poor Bartimaeus was perceived to have no value, no place, nothing to add to the social system. Many would have believed that he was a sinner and is in his sorry state paying for some evil deed by being made blind by God. He is told to be quiet by the crowds because he, an unimportant person, is bothering the Lord, an important person. And so he is doing the only thing he can do and survive - sit and beg for a few coins to eek out a subsistence life. What appears on the surface to be a simple healing story is, on a deeper level, full of mystery and symbolism. Again Mark presents us with the ironic contrast between this blind man who perceives Jesus as Messiah by calling him Son of David, and the disciples who can often be inwardly, spiritually blind. It is the blind man, the one perceived to be worthless and excluded who rightly addresses Jesus, eagerly runs to him in his blindness, and has faith to be healed and become a follower on the way. Jesus does not go to Bartimaeus, Jesus calls him to himself. Bartimaeus must, in his physical blindness, come out of his cloak and make his way groping through the crowd to our Lord’s presence. Jesus invites him to trust him that he’ll be there, he’ll wait for him. During moments in my life when I seemed to be groping in darkness, I believed the only way to move was with the light of purpose and confidence. Bartimaeus tells us that we can cast off what hinders us and make our way to Jesus before we see fully or at all. It is first and foremost our readiness and confidence that guide us toward our opened eyes.
This story immediately follows the request of James and John to have the places of highest honor next to Jesus in his glory. Contrasted with the desire for prestige and power among some of the disciples is this startling encounter with a poor blind beggar. Though blind, he sees more than the disciples. Though a beggar, he is rich in faith. Though a social outcast, he takes his place along the way with the wealthy and educated. Indeed the kingdom is breaking in if the disciples would just see it.
Bartimaeus teaches us who often believe we see all we need to see just what passionate longing for sight is all about. Surely there were other blind folks in Jesus’ path. Bartimaeus was unsatisfied with his state. He wanted something more. He wanted to find meaning and community and let in the beauty and ugliness the pleasure and pain of life. He wanted to see so much that he yells at the Son of God even when people are telling him to be quiet. He shouts at the incarnate deity in such a way that Jesus stops what he’s doing and pays attention to him. This story reminds us that while we may be blessed with physical sight, we may still be blind to the whole truth of our world and our own life and the needs of those around us. We can become like the Renaissance Festival beggar so blind that we cannot see that we cannot see. In the spiritual life, to gain sight I have to confess that I’m blind in some way. And then I have to want to see. Bartimaeus’ physical blindness and healing becomes a model for us in how to give ourselves fully to asking for help with our need to be illumined and enlightened to the gift of truth. The lectionary picks up the theme of sight in that both the Isaiah reading we heard earlier and the Psalm appointed for today use sight as a symbol for a clearer relationship with God which is lived out in community. Isaiah illustrates the effects of sin and injustice on the people when he says “We grope like the blind along a wall, groping like those who have no eyes; we stumble at noon as in twilight, among the vigorous as though we were dead.” Psalm 13, a cry of lament, says in the third verse “Look upon me and answer me, O LORD my God; give light to my eyes, lest I sleep in death.”
Do we really want to see? Our first reflex would be to answer “of course. I’m blind and I want to see.” But to be given sight carries the responsibility of responding to what we see within us and around us. When healed we don’t have the luxury of an excuse or the convenience of turning away - we’re called to really look at reality. I’ve known people and I suspect you have too who would rather stay in their known and comfortable blindness than undergo the stretching of asking for and being given sight. To open ourselves to the healing of those attitudes, habits, or thought patterns that block our growth in relationship with God and each other is rarely easy. Often we would rather do anything than name the reality of our blindnesses. Do I really want to see?
Bartimaeus is an example of spiritual passion, hunger, and focus in seeking out Jesus despite the barriers. When in our prayers we ask for mercy as Bartimaeus did, we are not imploring God for something we must earn by our goodness or that God is slow to give, but reminding ourselves of the attitude of Bartimaeus who was bold and humble, persistent and needy. Mercy is God’s favor even though we deserve punishment. While God would be justified in treating us as our sins deserve, God would rather offer forgiveness and favor and the embrace of relationship. Mercy describes God’s desire to restore us which is often blocked only by our unwillingness to ask and then be open to receiving. May the cry “Lord, have mercy” be our deep and sincere cry which stops our Lord in his tracks as he hears us. When we are blind and cannot see that we cannot see, may God’s light shine through to us and awaken us to our value and place. May our desire for mercy be a reminder to us of the gift of asking for and then accepting with gratitude new sight to live in holiness and justice and to see the way we are called to walk.
