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.