The
power of words: In a way, it is that
power which lies at the very heart of this passage in the Gospel of Mark that
we just read. Of course there is the
power embodied in Jesus’ words to the blind man, Bartimaeus – “Your faith has
saved and healed you.” That is obvious.
However,
there is also the power in the words that the beggar chooses to get Jesus’
attention in the first place – “Son of David, have mercy on me.” And there is power in the words of the simple
request that he makes of Jesus: “I want
to see.”
According
to the writer of this Gospel, today’s story is the last healing that Jesus will
ever do. He is in Jericho, some fifteen
miles outside of Jerusalem, his final destination.
We
who are in the know realize that in a few days time Jesus will process into the
Holy City through a secondary gate riding a donkey, the proverbial beast of
burden, backed by the peasant population waving its palm branches and shouting
for the kind of Messiah that he will never be.
We
know that he has planned his arrival to coincide with the Passover, one of the
most holy of Jewish festivals, and so he recognized that the city would be
teeming with pilgrims who had traveled from near and far, singing their Psalms
of Ascent along the way, come to offer their sacrifices in the Temple and so to
worship Yahweh/God in the purest form possible.
Once
inside the city gates, we know that Jesus will do all those things we associate
with Holy Week – turning the tables in the Temple and twisting the minds of the
Pharisees in debate and discussion, pushing the envelope father and farther until
he is arrested and then tried in the best monkey court of the day for blasphemy,
a euphemism for riling up the crowds during the holiday season. And we know that all his rabble rousing will
lead – perhaps inevitably - to his crucifixion, death, and burial in a borrowed
tomb.
But
we are not in Jerusalem yet. We are in
Jericho, and it is not a particularly nice or safe city. It was seedy and down at the heels, known for
its bandits and pickpockets. Apparently
not much of note happened to Jesus and his buddies there, however, because the
Gospel writer tells us that they arrived – and in the very next sentence – that
they departed Jericho. And we are left to assume that it is what
occurred in the aftermath that is important – and we are so right.
So
let’s follow this little band as it continues its way to Jerusalem – followed
by a growing crowd of the impoverished and marginalized. They must have been making quite a racket
because it seems that Bartimaeus heard them from quite a ways off. He was sitting in his usual spot by the side
of the road, living off the social welfare system of the day. He was a beggar, scooping up the handouts,
bits of food, and the couple of coins that came his way.
Not
only was he a beggar, he was blind. He
lived in a world of darkness. As
Presbyterian pastor, Martha Fairchild, writes, there he was “listening to the thud of feet passing, the click of harnesses, the
murmurs of the crowd that surrounded Jesus. He felt the hot sun on his face,
smelled the complex scents of crowd and animals and baking ground. Perhaps he
tasted the salt of his own sweat as he sat there. But he saw nothing.”
Perhaps it was a sense of excitement in
the air – or even the Holy Spirit swirling about. We do not know, but, whatever it was, it
caused Bartimaeus to cry out, almost a keening that swelled up from some place
deep within his soul.
“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on
me.”
The crowd, of course, and most
particularly the disciples, tried to hush the beggar up – and well they should
have – because it was not simply a case of bad manners on the part of Bartimaeus.
As United Church of Canada pastor David
Ewart reminds us, to call someone "’Son of David’ was a way of referring to the Messiah, the Christ,
the Anointed (One) who would fulfill God's promise that a descendant of David
would reign over Israel forever. At the
time of Jesus, this would mean overthrowing the current King Herod and routing
out the occupying Roman army…It is likely that the crowd (is)
urging Bartimaeus to keep quiet because shouting in public that someone is the
Son of David, the long-anticipated Messiah, would attract the attention of
Roman sentries - with nothing but bad results.”
It is the power of words. However, the power of these words comes
not from this stabbing fear of a breach in security or even in the potential to
attract Roman attention. The power of
these words comes from the fact that Bartimaeus, in spite of his blindness, recognized
who Jesus was. “Jesus, Son of David, Christ,
Anointed One, Messiah, have mercy on me.”
For three years, Peter, James, John,
and the others had watched the healings happen first hand. They had listened to Jesus speak in the
synagogue and argue with the Pharisees.
They had struggled over the parables and his teachings about the Good
News of God. They had been in plain view
of this man Jesus, and, with the exception of Peter’s bumbling proclamation at
Caesarea Philippi, they had failed to see what was before their very eyes, the
embodiment of God.
The one who saw – who really saw - was
the one who was blind. Bartimaeus - no
wonder we know his name. No wonder he
does not go name-less as the rich young man did, the one who asked Jesus
what he needed to do to find the Kingdom of God, and Jesus told him to give his
possessions to the poor and come, follow me.
Bartimaeus has a name – and that is
important because we know the power of a name.
In naming the blind beggar, the Gospel writer wants us to conclude that Bartimaeus
got it. He understood.
Talk about the power of words. Oh, that Gospel writer is so smart! “Bar” from the Hebrew meaning “son of.” “Timaeus” meaning “honor.” Bartimaeus, the “son of honor:”
The one
who was blind was able to see; the one who, as we shall soon realize,
understood the cost of discipleship, understood what was needed to have the
place of honor so desired by James and John as we read about last week. Bartimaeus, the “son of honor.” And guess who will be sitting at Jesus’ right
hand in the Kingdom?
But
back to the story. The blind beggar
cried out to Jesus shamelessly even as the crowd tried to hush him up.
“You be quiet!”
“I will not be quiet! What I have to
say is important! You be quiet!”
“Me? Who do you think you’re talking
to? I don’t have to be quiet – YOU be quiet!”
“Blah blah blah” – and so on and so on.
Jesus, of course, ignores the advice of the
masses and calls out Bartimaeus – and asks him, using the very same words that
he had used when James and John had approached him - in fact, when they had
approached him in the very verses that precede this story.
“What can I do for you?” Jesus queries. Oh, the power of words.
Whereas
James and John’s request was to sit at Jesus’ right and left hands in a kingdom
that they did not understand was so far removed from Jesus’ hopes and
expectations, Bartimaeus has a simple supplication. “Rabbi, I want
to see.”
And Jesus answered him with words so
powerful that, if you really listen, you might feel them even now within this
sacred space.
“Oh, blind beggar Bartimaeus, on your
way. Your faith has saved and healed you.
Don’t you know? You already
see. You in your poverty who sit by the
side of the road, relegated to the margins of society, you in your blindness,
see better than even my disciples who do not see at all. You understand.”
And Bartimaeus, “son of honor,” really
did get it in a way that no one else in this Gospel ever did. The writer tells us so by mentioning that
Bartimaeus threw off his cloak and followed Jesus.
The power of words. You see, in Jesus’ time, those who had money dressed
differently than those who did not. The
wealthy had an undergarment as well as a cloak.
The poor had to make due without the undergarment. They only had a cloak that served as both
clothing and blanket.
And so when Bartimaeus threw off his
cloak, he stood naked before Jesus.
Unlike the rich young man who could not bear to part with his
possessions, the blind beggar gave away everything he had, and he followed our
rabbi without even the shirt on his back – followed him into Jerusalem,
followed him to the cross, to death, and to the resurrection.
As Philip McLarty, a preacher who has served both
Presbyterian and Methodist congregations remarks, “that’s what makes the story of Bartimaeus so compelling because, of all
the people Jesus healed and raised from the dead, Bartimaeus was one of the few
who responded by following Jesus. Check it out – there’s Peter’s mother-in-law,
Jairus’ daughter, a woman who’d been bleeding for umpteen years, and a
smattering of demon-possessed individuals….Instead of saying, “Thank you very
much,” and going on about his business, Bartimaeus left his old life behind and
followed Jesus. …We remember Bartimaeus and know him by name, not because Jesus
healed him of his blindness, but because, once he could see, he devoted his
life to Jesus Christ.”
In the end, the Gospel of Mark is all about call. It is about discipleship and what it means to
follow Jesus, what it means to devote your life to this one we call the Son of
God. And this particular story of call is also about seeing. It is about really seeing what Jesus is all
about – and then acting accordingly.
The story is also about the power of words, and for us, this
morning, it is about the power of words in the sense of how we choose to talk
about the needs of the church in the context of call, discipleship, following
Jesus, devoting our lives to the one we call the Son of God. It is about how the church – this church -
sees what Jesus is all about.
And on this Stewardship Commitment Sunday, let’s face
it: The church – this church - sees
money. You see money disappearing from
your paycheck to support RVCC next year.
The Council sees money coming in, so it can keep these doors open.
But how we really see this money is what is vitally important. So maybe this is a good time to check our
vision because it is too easy for us as the church to get all entangled up in
dollars and budgets and numbers of members.
And when we fall into that trap, we are blind. We lose sight of ministry – and that is what
the church is all about. Who wants to
support an organization whose prime desire is to pay the bills? Who wants to support an organization that
cannot see past balancing its budget?
Your generous giving today and in the days ahead is not
about the price of oil or how many times a year we can afford to produce a
color bulletin. Your generous giving is
not about balancing a budget.
If you really see as Bartimaeus really saw, you would
realize that the church is about following Jesus – and so your pledges and
gifts are about ministry.
They are about all the things we do around here to create
community in a world where community is so lacking and yet is so needed. It is about the suppers we host, the movie
nights the kids in the Youth Group invite their friends to, our community hymn
sings.
Your generous giving is about the mission ministry we have –
the financial assistance we can offer, the 50+ Thanksgiving baskets we
coordinate and give away, the mission trip we will take this summer to the
Maine Seacoast Mission in Washington County, one of the most impoverished parts
of our state.
That is what money is about around here. It is about discipleship. It is about following Jesus. It is about Jesus calling you and me – and
how we choose to respond. It is about
ministry, and it is about the power of words.
And if you can see that, then you have seen with the eyes of the blind
beggar.
by Rev. Nancy Foran
www.rvccme.org
www.twitter.com/rvccme
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