First Sunday in Lent
March 4, 2001

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sixth Sunday of Easter
May 20, 2001

 

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CROSS EXAMINATIONS: 20/20 VISION

MARK 10:46-52

Each of the four Gospels has a distinct purpose in its writing. All four were written to recount the story of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, but all were also trying to express different dimensions of that ministry. Which is another way to say that each of them have a different theological agenda. That is why two Gospels can be describing the very same event while having a completely different focus. The feeding of the crowd of 5,000 appears in all four Gospels. And yet Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all tell the story from a slightly different angle. Is it because they disagree about what really happened? No. It is because each has a slightly different theological agenda he is trying to express.


The Gospel of Mark is what I call the Gospel of the Fourth Gear. Mark's Jesus is constantly on the move. The word that appears again and again throughout the Gospel of Mark is "immediately." The language is constant motion. And the picture that begins to form in your mind is Jesus power walking from one event to another, with His disciples always 50 yards behind breathlessly trying to keep up. This is seen in the temptation of Jesus. Matthew and Luke say the Spirit "led" Jesus into the wilderness. Mark, however, says the Spirit "drove" Jesus into the wilderness. Do you see the difference? Matthew and Luke are beckoning; Mark is shoving! It is constant motion.


I believe one of the reasons Mark frames his Gospel in this way is to make clear that Jesus knew His purpose and nothing was going to distract Him from fulfilling it. And so every time the disciples catch up to where Jesus is, you get the picture of them holding their sides, panting for breath, saying, "Where is He?" And someone else saying, "Oh, you just missed Him. He's already left." Constantly on the go.


But every now and then Mark throws in a speed bump. You're driving down the highway at a very fast clip when all of a sudden you hit a speed bump, which means, "Slow down, there's a toll booth up ahead. Be prepared or you're going to miss what's about to happen." Mark throws in his speed bumps through his language.


Those language speed bumps are grammatically called historical present, which is to take past-tense events and frame them in present-tense language. Rather than saying, "Jesus and his disciples came to the city [past tense]," Mark transforms the grammar into saying, "Jesus and his disciples come to the city [present tense]."


Mark changes the tense because he wants the vividness of the event to hit his readers between the eyes, throwing them into the middle of the story as if they were there. It's Mark's way of saying, "Slow down. Don't miss this. What you're about to hear is so important that I want you to stop running and be still so you can soak it in."


The problem is that our English translations of the Bible don't indicate that change in language. To make it more readable, the translators shift the grammar back to past tense.


Guess what? The story we have just read has a speed bump. Throw on the brakes, slow down, and listen carefully. Mark wants us to know that the event we have just read is very, very important.


How long he had been sitting there we do not know. But we do know this--Bartimaeus had not always been blind. There had been a time when he had not sat on the side of the road. There had been a time when he had walked the streets of Jericho without bumping into walls. There had been a time when he'd been able to look into shops and find his own way to the synagogue. There had been a time when he'd used his hands for something other than feeling his way in the dark.


He had created things. He had fixed his own meals. He could read the Torah. He had been able to look into the eyes of a friend. He had been able to wave at someone across the street. He had smiled at children, patted their heads, and wished them well. He knew the difference between night and day. He had loved. He had laughed. He had been able to see.


As I've studied this story I've been asking myself, What is worse, to have never had your sight and therefore never fully know what you are missing or to have had your sight and then lose it, left only with the memories and images of what you had once had, but no more and never again? I think I prefer the first. Bartimaeus had not always been blind.


Bartimaeus had not always been a beggar. In fact, there had been a time in his life when he was a respected citizen of Jericho. You may ask, "How do you know that?" Because "bar" meant "son" and "timaeus" meant "the honored one."


Bartimaeus was the son of a revered man. He was someone who had walked with distinction in the social circles of Jericho. But there was no father at his side on that day. Perhaps Timaeus had died. Or perhaps he had given in to the pressure of religious conformity. You see, in that day people believed that blindness wasn't simply the result of disease--blindness was evidence of sin. Every disease they could not understand was explained as the disfavor of God. And so whether it was leprosy, paralysis, epilepsy, or blindness--they all meant one thing--the diseased had sinned against God. And there lies Bartimaeus.


Please understand: He has been reduced to nothing. He is an untouchable. He is an outcast that cannot be explained. He has been completely dehumanized. Even his name has been forgotten. Like the litter that collects in the gutter, Bartimaeus sits, day in and day out. He is a crumpled-up man on the side of the road. His bed is trampled dirt. His food is the dust from the thousands of feet leaving Jericho.


His only companions are the other discards that the hurry of life has left behind. Used up, thrown-away people living in their own private place and their own private pain. Each with a story to tell that no one wants to hear. They cry out for a touch, a kind word, a bit of conversation. But the world passes them by on their way to more important places and more important conversations. That is life for Bartimaeus. He sees with his hands and feels with his ears. It is a world of darkness, isolation, and despair.


When he feels the sun beginning to burn his face, he knows it's time to begin the day. He strains to listen in the darkness--he hears the clopping of horses, the grinding of wagons, and the shuffling of feet. Jericho is waking up. And as he listens he begins the routine that has consumed his life these many years: "Alms! Alms for the poor! Pity on a blind man!"


And then the responses: a mumbled blessing, a coin in the cup, a sharp point of theology, a slap on the hand, a shove back to the road. Just another day in the life of Bartimaeus.


But this was not to be simply another day. On this day the road to Jerusalem would be thick with pilgrims making their way to Passover. More people meant more shoves and more curses. But more people also meant the possibility of a few more coins and a little more bread to sustain him through another week.


A crowd is coming down the road. He can hear their laughter and their cheering. He senses the excitement and sits up a little straighter. Bartimaeus gropes in the darkness toward one of the voices in the crowd and says, "Excuse me, sir. What's happening here?"


"Nothing for you to be concerned about, beggar. Stay out of the way. Jesus of Nazareth is coming down the road."


Jesus of Nazareth? He knows that name. He has heard conversations about this man Jesus. Some had spoken of Him as a religious fanatic--someone trying to make a name for himself. Some had spoken of His miracles, others of His wisdom, still others of His kindness. And there were even those who had been saying that He may be the future king of Israel and heir to David's throne--the promised Messiah!


Bartimaeus's mind races back to his childhood when the scrolls had been read in the synagogue. The prophet Isaiah had written that this promised Messiah would be: "A light to the nations . . . to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison, and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness" (Isaiah 51:4; 42:7).


"Those who sit in darkness . . ." Bartimaeus had been in the darkness for so long he had forgotten what it was like to see the light. He had been locked in the dungeon for so long he had stopped believing that anyone could possibly care. But could it be that there really was one interested in those who sit in darkness? Bartimaeus's heart began to pound, "I must talk to this Jesus!"


Suddenly Bartimaeus is surrounded by a sea of bodies. The sound of the crowd is deafening, and he feels as if he's being swept away. He's groping at the air, trying to grab anyone toward him, but it's no use. Finally, in desperation, almost without thinking, he cries out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" (Mark 10:47).


Do you have any idea how vulnerable Bartimaeus is right now? He's shouting into a storm. He has no idea if Jesus is three blocks away or standing right in front of him. He wouldn't know if Jesus were even paying attention, much less listening to him. What could possibly have given him the courage to be that vulnerable?


Mark doesn't tell us this, but I think Jesus has been down this road before. He has certainly made other trips to Jericho. And I believe that time and time again He has passed a blind beggar on the side of the road named Bartimaeus. But Bartimaeus had been so caught up in the pressure of eking out an existence that he missed opportunity after opportunity for his healing.


And so, Bartimaeus can't keep quiet. He has lived in personal pain for so long that what others think is no longer important. He has lived with public disgrace for so long that the need for social acceptance no longer has a grip on him. And he won't miss another opportunity! And so he turns his face toward the howling crowd and cries out again, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" (v. 48).


And Mark throws in a speed bump. Don't miss this. Slow down. Don't let this pass you by. Two little words: "Jesus stopped" (v. 49). Jesus has been running from one event to another. He knows His mission. He has set His face toward Jerusalem, knowing full well what He will find there. There will be a cross. Yet despite the pressure of the moment and the seriousness of the mission, the "jogging Jesus" stops, faces Bartimaeus, and says, "Call him" (v. 49).


What's going on in Bartimaeus's mind at that moment? Maybe he couldn't believe his ears. Maybe he had no idea what was about to happen. But I do know this: Bartimaeus had begun to believe that the Man who stood before him could take the broken pieces of his life and put them back together again.


And in a moment of faith he does something you will never see someone who is blind do--Bartimaeus ran! He threw off his coat, jumped to his feet, and ran toward Jesus. Bartimaeus is stumbling and tripping and falling and banging into people. He's missed Jesus before, and he's not going to squander this opportunity.


Bartimaeus can't see where Jesus is standing. I have a feeling Jesus had to meet him on the way. And in a moment of time a man who has lived in darkness stands before the Light of the World. Jesus asks him, "What do you want me to do for you?" (v. 51a). That's an interesting question. It's the identical question Jesus had asked James and John just a few verses before (v. 36). But though the question was the same, the answers were completely different.


James and John answer in terms of power and prestige. The son of the "honored one" answers with his need to be healed, "Rabbi, I want to see" (v. 51b).


James and John are bargaining. Bartimaeus is broken. James and John are maneuvering for power. Bartimaeus is surrendering his life. James and John are completely blind. Bartimaeus has 20/20 vision!


They had seen everything and yet were still blind. They didn't express their need with blindness and begging--they were above that. But Bartimaeus knows he needs something he cannot give to himself. He needs grace, and he runs to it. Grace is always offered, but to be received in its fullness, it must come through our own sense of humility and need.


This will be the last public miracle of Jesus' ministry in the Gospel of Mark. How interesting that the last words Jesus will speak before Jerusalem and a cross are spoken to a blind beggar. It's as if Jesus is saying, "If you want to look at true discipleship, look at Bartimaeus."


Following Jesus is more than something we do; it is an attitude of the heart. Following Jesus begins when we stop our maneuvering and begin to surrender. Following Jesus means that we stop living in our own power and begin trusting in God's power.


Today is the first Sunday of Lent. A time to pray the prayer:


Lord, help us to see.
Help us to see Your grace in creation,
Help us to see where we are blind,
To see our pains and fears,
To see where we are in bondage,
To see where we, for the sake of our religion, distort Your truth.
Help us to see Jesus!


Slow down. Take notice. Don't miss this. Look at Jesus through the eyes of Bartimaeus. "But he can't see!" you say.

Oh yes, he can. Oh yes, he can!