SERMON FOR SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24, 2021                TEXT: MARK    10:46-52

          Sunday to Sunday we have been reading select passages from the Gospel of Mark. The lectionary lets us focus on individual stories from Jesus’ ministry. Over the past weeks we have heard about the execution of John the Baptist, the feeding of the five thousand with five loaves and two fish, Jesus stilling the sea, Peter’s answer to his question “Who do you say that I am?”, the Lord’s debates with the Pharisees over hand-washing and divorce, his encounters with the Syrophoenician woman seeking healing for her daughter and with the rich man who could not sell all he had, and the repeated struggles of the disciples to understand what following Jesus actually means. The lectionary is incomplete; it doesn’t include every story, and it doesn’t let us see the big picture, the careful way Mark structures his narrative.

          Today’s story about Bartimaeus is a good example. Coming at the end of chapter 10, the healing is like the second of a pair of bookends. It hearkens back to an earlier encounter Jesus has with a blind man, recorded in chapter 8. Jesus has just fed a second multitude (a crowd of 4,000 rather than 5,000 this time around). There follows a hostile encounter with the Pharisees (“The Pharisees came and began to argue with him asking him for a sign from heaven to test him,” v. 11), and after that another round of misunderstanding on the part of the disciples: “Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, ‘Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.’ They said to one another, “’It is because we have no bread.’ And becoming aware of it, Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear?’” (vv. 16-18).

          Immediately afterwards they all arrive in Bethsaida, where some people bring a blind man to Jesus, begging the Lord to touch him. Here is Mark’s account: “He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village; and when he had put saliva on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, ‘Can you see anything?’ And the man looked up and said, ‘I can see people, but they look like trees, walking.’ Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. Then he sent him away to his home, saying, ‘Do not even go into the village’” (vv. 23-26).

          Jesus and his entourage travel on to Caesarea Philippi. Along the way he asks the disciples first “Who do people say that I am?” and then “But who do you say that I am?” Peter steps up to the plate to declare Jesus to be the Messiah. The Lord charges the disciples to keep silent and for the first time speaks openly to them of what is to come:    “Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again” (v. 31). Peter refuses to accept this and rebukes Jesus, who responds with the crushing reprimand: “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (v. 33).

          Now jump forward to the end of chapter 10, and compare the two healings. In the first a double round of hands-on treatment is required for the blind man to see everything clearly, and he experiences an intermediate stage of partial, imperfect sight: “I can see people but they look like trees walking.”    As far as we know, when the encounter is over, the man goes back to his home as Jesus has commanded and keeps his counsel. Bartimaeus is a far more active agent in his healing. He has no friends acting on his behalf to bring him to Jesus ; he speaks for himself. At first the bystanders actively discourage him. Bartimaeus boldly persists, shouting until he catches Jesus’ attention. Jesus responds, and then some in the crowd encourage the blind man. Note Bartimaeus’ confident response. He springs up. Remember the rich man, who went away grieving because he had many possessions and could not give them up to follow Jesus? Bartimaeus has no such misgivings. The beggar’s cloak is his one essential piece of property — he would lay it out to receive the alms people gave; he would wrap himself in it to sleep or to protect himself against the elements. But Bartimaeus leaves his cloak behind, certain that he will need it no more. This healing requires only that Jesus say the word and say it once, and Bartimaeus sees.

          What is different this time around? Between the encounter with the anonymous blind man in chapter 8 and with Bartimaeus at the end of chapter 10, Jesus has openly spoken of his impending betrayal, death and resurrection three times. The now sighted Bartimaeus is not charged by Jesus to return home, keeping a low profile. He instead follows Jesus on the way, and the way for Mark is always Jesus’ inevitable journey to Jerusalem and the destination of the cross. “Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way” is the last verse of chapter 10; chapter 11 then begins with Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Mark shapes the telling of his story to point beyond physical recovery to a deeper gift of sight. In chapter 8, immediately before the first healing Jesus asks the disciples, “Do you still not perceive or understand? Do you have eyes and fail to see?” Blind ignorance to imperfect vision to faith strong enough to make a man whole — our ability to see and to understand grows as God’s mysterious working unfolds around and within us.

          One afternoon last week while my brother and sister-in-law sat with Mom, I read some commentary on the story of blind Bartimaeus and then went for a walk in the brilliant sunshine. I took the route I followed in my running days, moving as briskly as I could with joints that dare not run anymore. From the old neighborhood to the grade school, a left before the main drag into town, between the back side of the Naval Academy and the campus of St. John’s College, a right turn toward the State Capitol building and a sharp left onto King George Street, where suddenly, across from the house where my grandmother lived over 60 years ago, I failed to see what was right in front of me until I nearly fell. The roots of a tree had spread wide over the years and pushed up the old bricks of the sidewalk at treacherous angles. Finding my way safely across, I realized the shadowed bricks were like the feelings surrounding the family’s watching and waiting at Mom’s bedside    — the blinding effect of grief and guilt and love; the random memories jutting up and tripping us. I thought again of Bartimaeus, shouting at Jesus, “Have mercy on me!” Jesus stopped for him and enlisted the help of others on his behalf. “Call him here,” he told them. “Take heart; get up, he is calling you,” they tell Bartimaeus, and so we can reassure one another. Time and again through life all of us find ourselves in a cloud of unknowing. We have eyes but cannot yet see.“The blind man said to [Jesus], ‘My teacher, let me see again.’” We ask not in blind faith but in faithful blindness, so that we can regain our sight and follow him on the way. Amen.