To give sight to the blind

A reflection on Mark 10: 46-52, preached Sunday, 29 October 2006

Here’s a silly question. You will have heard it before; you will probably have asked it yourself on more than one occasion. I know I have. So, here it is:

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Now think about that for a moment. There’s a vacant chair next to you and someone comes up and asks, “Is anyone sitting here?” As silly questions go, it’s right up there isn’t it?

“Is there anyone sitting here?”

“Yes, she’s invisible though, so you can’t see her.”

“Yes, he’s just very, very tiny. Please don’t sit on him.”

I suppose silly questions deserve silly answers.

Here’s another. This is my personal silly question. This is the question that upsets my wife somewhat. A little background information for you: this is the question I usually ask after Carol has done something such as kick her toes against a hard object, or burnt herself in the kitchen. And my question is:

“Why did you do that?”

I will spare you Carol’s response.

Here is a third silly question. A blind man comes to Jesus and says, “Have mercy on me.” And Jesus asks him:

“What do you want me to do for you?”

Now I don’t mean to be rude about the Messiah, but at first glance it seems a pretty silly question. A blind man comes to Jesus and says, “Have mercy on me.”

But Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?" for a reason. It seems to me that Jesus is trying to uncover something here; his question is about making explicit the relationship between healer and helped. This is a question which demands an answer spelling out the nature of the relationship between Jesus and Bartimaeus.

And listen to the blind man’s answer: “My teacher, let me see again.”

“My teacher.” Do you hear the relationship between Jesus and Bartimaeus? And do you hear what he asks for?

I think that there are two parts to the blind man’s response. One is about making plain the relationship which Bartimaeus is prepared to enter into. That’s quite clear. The other part, however, has to be read between the lines.

Here are the clues, and I think there are five of them. First of all, the man’s name is Bartimaeus – son of Timaeus. Secondly, the man refuses to be silenced. Thirdly, he throws off his cloak in order to get to Jesus. Fourthly, his request is framed in language which implies this is about permission giving rather than miracle working, And finally, he asks to see “again”.

These are all clues which point to what this man is really asking for: he is asking for the restoration of relationships. As the son-of-Timaeus, his place in society was defined by his relationships, but his begging cloak spread out on the dirt before him to catch the alms thrown to him is a symbol of how he is cut off from normal everyday relationships, relationships which he once had and now no longer has. He is determined to find his way back; he casts aside the cloak in order to be restored; and he understands that this is a matter of attitude rather than medicine. “Have mercy on me! Let me see again.”

Now Mark tells a clever story. Do you recall last week’s gospel reading? James and John, two of Jesus’ closest disciples, come to him and ask him for a favour. What does Jesus ask them? He asks them exactly the same question he asks Bartimaeus. Exactly the same question: “What do you want me to do for you?”

And how do James and John reply? Is their request about restoring relationships, or is their attempt to grab power and authority at the expense of the other disciples the opposite of restoring relationships? And they said to him, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory."

What is the result of such a question? “When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John.”

Discipleship is an interesting thing in the gospel of Mark. Throughout the gospel, the chosen disciples – the Twelve – always, repeat always, get it wrong. And it is others who get it right. From beginning to end, it is others who intuitively understand what it means to be a disciple. From Peter’s mother-in-law who rises from her sick bed and immediately begins to serve Jesus and the others to the women who stand at the foot of the cross, disciples are those who follow Jesus on the way.

And blindness is an interesting metaphor for the condition of those who don’t get it. The scribes are described as being blind; the Pharisees and teachers of the law are called “blind guides”; and the twelve disciples, the very ones closest to Jesus, the ones who should be able to see, they too are blind to what it means to be a follower.

But not Bartimaeus: “Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.”

Jesus asks us a question: “What do you want me to do for you?”

What is our answer? Dare we ask “to see”?

If our eyes are opened to following Jesus, where does “the way” take us?

Remember, “the way” is the way of the cross. Following Jesus is not about power and authority; it’s not about sitting alongside Jesus in all his glory. Following Jesus is about the first being the last; it is about being “the slave of all”.

If our eyes are opened, if we are given sight, we will see things we would rather not see. We will begin to see what Jesus saw: a blind man begging for mercy beside the road. Do we want to see that? We will see the crippled and the lame and the deaf and even the dead. Is that why we are asking to be given sight? We will see the poor, the hungry, the widow, the orphan, the alien at our gates.

But if we see the “bad news” then we will be blessed with the opportunity to bring the “good news”. We will be graced with the opportunity “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour” and to do that through restored relationships. As we reach out to serve others, we will find ourselves serving the Messiah; we will find our relationship with others drawing us into deeper relationship with God.

Thom Shuman captures the bitter sweet nature of Jesus’ gift of sight in this prayer based on today’s readings:

sitting duck

i would wear

steel-toed boots

to nudge my friends

out of the way,

or high-heeled boots

so i am not dirtied

by the muck of the world,

but you rub

my Achilles' heel raw

with the pebble of

servanthood;

i would take

self-defence courses

to protect myself

from all the blows

the world throws at me,

but you pull off

my gloves

and show me

the wide open stance

of grace;

i would build a fence

of cynicism and doubt

around my soul

so no one can sneak past

with their pain and need,

but you hold out

your heart to me,

naked and bleeding

from its brokenness.

Jesus, Son of David,

have pity on me:

so when I want to be

safe and secure,

i can become a sitting duck

for your vulnerability.

(c) 2006 Thom M. Shuman

May we, like Bartimaeus, regain our sight and follow Jesus… all the way to the cross. Amen.

What do we ask of Jesus?

A reflection on Mark 10:35-45, preached Sunday, 22 October 2006

From time to time – but not very often, it seems to me – along comes a bible passage that doesn’t really need a lot of hard work to comprehend. Frequently, bible passages use language which has no modern equivalent or refer to social structures which we don’t understand; sometimes they lend themselves to a number of different interpretations; sometimes they appear to contradict other passages of scripture. So, when a piece such as this morning’s gospel reading comes along, it’s something of a relief to the preacher preparing the sermon.

Last week, reflecting on the story of the rich man and those words of Jesus about camels and the eyes of needles, I quoted Stacey Simpson and her memories of being a seven-year-old hearer of the gospel. She said, “The little girl inside me knew that these words of Jesus were clear and hard and scary”.

Sometimes the words of Jesus are clear, and frequently those clear words are hard and not a little bit scary.

Jesus says, “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all”. I don’t think it gets much clearer or harder or scarier than that.

I suspect that none of us needs to hear a theological exposition of what Jesus means. We know full well that we are called to serve, and we are not slow to point to those disciples of Jesus who appear to have lost track of being a “slave to all” in favour of fame and fortune.

The message is clear, but why is it so hard?

This morning I simply want to give you three examples of how the gospel challenges us, and invite your reflection upon how these words apply to each of us individually as well as how they apply to us as a community of disciples.

First story:

Carol and I recently spent time with a colleague who told us of a member of his congregation who had come to him for help. The man, let’s call him James, related a story of always being passed over for promotion. He had studied, he had read books on how to succeed in his workplace, he had been to seminars, he had taken on a “life coach”, he had applied all the recommended theories of leadership and he was the most senior person in the workplace but still he was being passed over. Our friend asked him, “James, why do you want to be promoted?” James replied, “Well, getting promoted is what is supposed to happen. It will show I’m good at what I do. It will show I’m worth something. After all, the more people you are in charge of, the more successful you are.”

Our friend thought for a moment and then asked, “Is that what Jesus tells us?”

James was very thoughtful and then the two of them, James and his minister, went on to have a conversation about the example and words of Jesus in stories like this:

"You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognise as their rulers lord it over them… But it is not so among you… whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

Slowly James began to understand just how much he had bought the world’s priority on success; its definition of how a person’s worth is measured. He came to see how much he had lost sight of his calling as a follower of Jesus. It is not how many people you are in charge of, but how many you serve.

Many of you may well be thinking, “But this doesn’t apply to me, I’m long past trying to be the best, trying to climb the promotion ladder.” Then let me tell you the second story.

Last weekend my sister and I spent time helping our parents clean out their house in readiness to move into an independent living unit in a BlueCare facility. On more than one occasion, my father was heard to say things like, “I’ve reached my use-by-date. I suppose I’ll have to get used to being no use anymore”. It was really sad to hear.

And part of my sadness is because my father has bought the world’s definition of worth. He no longer has the same degree of control over his life as he once had and so he feels he no longer has anything to contribute. His view of the world remains tied to notions of competence and success, and he is yet to discover that worth can be measured in relationships and in opportunities to serve others.

Whether we are climbing the corporate ladder or moving in the world of retirement, the gospel is hard to deal with because it challenges so much that we have been taught, so much we have strived for, so much that gives us comfort and security.

Third and final story (and this is the scary one):

Recently, at a Presbytery committee meeting, one of the people (let’s call him John) was expressing his dismay that the church seemed happy to slip into decline. John went on to say that he wanted to be part of a church that was successful. Others tried to say something about the risks of chasing success, that having a church bursting at the seams is no guarantee of being faithful followers of Jesus. The discussion that followed revealed some interesting understandings among the people there. For some Christians like John there is a strong connection between serving and failing, and an equally strong connection between leading and succeeding. And that is the scary part.

In Mark’s gospel Jesus tells us that, as his followers, leading and succeeding are not our destiny. And I’m confident Jesus is not talking about failing either. Jesus calls us to a different way. He calls us to serve, to value others, to attend to their needs. This is a call which places relationship above all else.

Our culture tells us that if we are not the best, the star, the person in charge, then our worth is limited – even non-existent. But Jesus says our true worth lies in relationships: with God, with each other, and with those we are called to serve. By being faithful to this call, we find our real worth as human beings and as children of God.

Because we live in such an individualistic age, it is easy to recognise the truth of the call to serve in our own lives, but equally, perhaps even more so, we have a communal responsibility to serve. This is our raison-d’être, our purpose as a church, our call to be a community of disciples. The measure of our success is not in the numbers of people who fill our pews; it is in the number of people we serve.

Serving others becomes the marker of the reign of God. It is the sign of compassion, the indicator of the presence of mercy and justice, the means by which good news is brought to the poor.