What does Jesus give the man who has nothing? [Proper 25B]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Mark 10:46-52
What does Jesus give the man who has nothing?
This man has no name. See, Bartimaeus is not a name. It is looks like a name, on the page, in
English, but it is not. It is a
description. It means simply “son of
Timaeus”. Were you reading this is
Aramaic, which would be pretty impressive, by the way, the line at the
beginning of today's gospel passage would rather awkwardly read: “son of
Timaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.”
This man has no name – only
identifiers. He is a son. He is blind.
He is a beggar. And apparently,
that is all you need to know.
Oh, and one more thing: he is
annoying. Not because he is a
beggar. Blind folks in first century
Palestine had to beg. There were no sight
centers or social safety nets. The
crowds understood that.
It was just that Jesus has
attracted this large crowd in Jericho, on his way to Jerusalem. They really want to hear what Jesus has to
say. They are enthralled. He is fascinating – an unpredictable mix of
profundity and abrasion. But honestly it
is really difficult to concentrate with all the yelling. Every time Jesus gets going – telling another
great story or confounding parable, the guy shouts again. The same thing: over and over and over again. Jesus says, “The kingdom of God is like…” And all the crowd hears is: “Jesus, Son of
David, have mercy on me. They are missing
important stuff. They want to hear what
Jesus has to say.
And so Mark tells us, “they sternly
ordered him to be quiet.” I imagine they
did. I doubt it was a polite
interaction. I don't think there are
many contexts in the history of the world in which a loud, blind, nameless
beggar is showed much respect.
But of course, Jesus is
different. He stops in his tracks. He stops for this man – for this nameless,
blind beggar. And not to hush him, but
to talk to him. The crowd is annoyed by
the man; Jesus seems impressed by his determination. And so Jesus calls the man over and says
something that I find surprising. He
asks the man, “what do you want me to do for you?” As a reader, living some two-thousand years
later, knowing that Jesus heals a number of people in the Gospels, eye sight is
the obvious answer. To the original
crowd, though, the guy is a beggar and beggars beg for money, eyesight might
not be such an obvious request. So
rather than assume he knows, Jesus treats the man like a person, not a problem;
he shows him respect. He begins a
conversation.
And the man says to Jesus, “Let me
see.” The answer we, as readers,
expect. It is kind of predictable. But also it is incredibly brave because this
blind man responds knowing that there is a chance Jesus might actually grant
his request.
We're talking about a huge change
here. If Jesus can restore his sight, if
Jesus can make this man see, that miracle would turn the man's life
upside-down. Nothing would ever be the
same. That's scary stuff. Many of us tend to live by the idiom, “Better
the devil you know than the devil you don't.”
I wonder how many blind beggars stayed on the side of the road because
the alternative, a complete lifestyle change, seemed scarier than the reality
to which they had become accustomed.
The change the blind beggar faced
was significant. If Jesus healed him,
restored his sight, he would lose his identity.
He would no longer be blind. He
could no longer survive as a beggar. He
would just be a man – starting from scratch – in search of a new identity.
I've talked to a number of people
who have undergone lap band surgery. The
point of the procedure, of course, is to help a person lose a significant
amount of weight. But that is also the
complication. One woman, who was
interviewed after losing 165 pounds, said, “I've lost a lot of other things
too. I've lost friendships, I've lost a
husband [who loves big women], I've lost my identity as a fat person. I am a different person.” She goes on to say, later in the interview,
“Oftentimes, people lose hundreds of pounds of weight, only to regain it. It's
going back to a safe place, because if that's the place you know best, that's
where you stay.”[1]
I've never had lap band surgery,
but I get that. I lost my hair when I
was nine years old. It was uncomfortable
being a bald child; there were some rough days.
And if someone offered me a full head of hair back then, I would have
taken it in a heartbeat – no more kids teasing me at school, no more
finger-pointing at the mall.
But twenty-five years later, being
bald is a part of my identity in the world and even part of my
self-identity. I don't really even
remember what it is like to look at myself in the mirror and see someone with
hair. My wife and my boys would not
recognize me. Losing my hair helped me
become the person I am today. I would
never trade that. If someone offered me
a full head of hair today, there is no way I would take it.
Those things we live with, both
good and bad, define us. They become a
part of our identity, of who we are.
When that blind beggar encountered Jesus, he was suddenly changed. He was made new – no longer the person he was
before. He was a different person.
Now if this story were a movie, it
could have a great Hollywood ending. The
man would go and make a new life for himself.
No longer blind, he would get a great job, meet his perfect mate, move
into an adorable house in the suburbs of Jericho. We might even find out his name, like, right
before the credits rolled. It be would
the perfect happy ending.
But in this story, Jesus says “Go”
and the man stays – he stays with Jesus.
Rather than chase that Hollywood happy ending, the man follows the One
who saved his life. Because Jesus gave
him something amazing: more than eye sight; Jesus gave him a new identity. People would no longer look at him with pity
or disdain. They would never again look
down on him, begging on the side of the road.
And he would never look at himself in that same way again either.
When Jesus shows up, he never
leaves us the same. He loves us too much
for that. By the miracle of his love,
Jesus allows us to see ourselves through the eyes of God. The truth is: you are so much more than you think you
are. You are so much more than what the
crowds see when they pass you by. You are more than your flaws and your
ailments, more than your shortcomings, more than all those things that have
defined you in the eyes of others.
When Bartimaeus encountered Jesus
that is what he discovered. Because
Jesus opened his eyes. And for the first
time in his life, the man with nothing, not even a name, saw himself through
the eyes of God. That is a life-changing
view. And he realized he wasn't just a
blind beggar; he was a beloved child of God. He was created in the image of the Divine and
loved with a fathomless love. Jesus
opened his eyes and he could see. He
could see himself for who he really was.
Jesus still has the power to open
eyes, so that you can see yourself for who you really are. You are so much more than you think you
are. You are so much more than what the
crowds see when they pass you by. You
are a beloved child of God. That is who
you are. And that will never
change.
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