Be Careful What You Ask For - Rev. Dr. Dennis Winkleblack
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Sermon: October 25, 2015
Mark 10: 46-52
Dennis Winkleblack
I begin with a word of advice: One might want to think twice before engaging Jesus. Take Bartimaeus, for example.
Bartimaeus is a beggar. He sits beside the road on the outskirts of Jericho waiting for handouts. When he gets something, he wraps it in a corner of his cloak – his outer coat. He uses this cloak to shield himself from rain and for warmth in the cooler months of the year.
Now, Bartimaeus, as you heard, is not only a beggar. Bartimaeus is blind.
As well, Bartimaeus is not only a beggar, not only can’t see, but is also a sinner. That is to say, in first century Palestine, if you were blind most everyone figured you must have done something awful to deserve it. Good people just didn’t become blind.
What’s more, Bartimaeus is not only a beggar, not only can’t see, not only a sinner, but because everyone knows he’s a sinner, he’s an outcast. No one will have anything to do with him. He’s considered “unclean” by the religious authorities, and thus barred from Temple worship.
So, Bartimaeus sits and begs by day, and curls up with his cloak for a cover by night. This is his life.
Then, one day, he’s joined on the roadside by more than the usual number of people. He hears someone say that Jesus is coming. Not surprisingly, Bartimaeus has heard about Jesus and his miracles just from sitting on the roadside, overhearing the conversations of others. Jesus is quite the talk of Jericho and the Galilee. So, when Bartimaeus learns that Jesus will be passing through Jericho, he’s ready. Maybe he’s even fantasized about an opportunity exactly like this.
Thus, as Bartimaeus perceives Jesus and his entourage to be in the vicinity, Bartimaeus hollers out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”
Now, mercy in this context means probably what you think it means, even 2000 years ago. Bartimaeus is saying to Jesus, “have compassion for me and help me.”
What happens next is what happens most times when someone in a crowd makes a ruckus. The crowd turns on him and says, “shush!” After all, most of those on the roadside will have heard of Jesus, too, and want to be polite to him while he’s in their city.
But Bartimaeus seems not to care what the crowd thinks, and he cries out even louder, the gospel writer says: “Son of David, have mercy on me.”
Remember my caution about engaging Jesus? Well, Bartimaeus has taken a risky first step. “Son of David, have mercy on me.”
And Jesus stops. And then Jesus says, “Call him here.”
“Call” him. We should know that Jesus is using the same verb for “call” that is used by the gospel writer, Mark, for the calling of the disciples. Uh, oh. It’s really getting close to being too late for Bartimaeus.
So, the disciples say to Bartimaeus, “Take heart, get up, he’s calling you.”
Okay, now it pretty much is too late.
Bartimaeus then quickly throws off his cloak with his money wrapped in one corner, not to mention the figs and whatever else he might have had for a meal in another corner, and springs to his feet.
Springs to his feet, the gospel says – springs – most likely wearing only a loin cloth, this being Jericho some 800 feet below sea level where it stays pretty warm 12 months of the year, and downright suffocatingly hot in several of them.
Springs to his feet and goes to Jesus. Not being able to see, I’d guess someone guided him.
And, then, here’s really the very last chance for Bartimaeus, even with his heart pumping blood so fast his brain can’t think straight. Last chance because Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”
What do you want me to do for you? Really. The man can’t see. It’s surely obvious to everyone. What do you want me to do for you?
And Bartimaeus says, “Let me see again.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. There’s no taking it back now, Bartimaeus.
You may remember that, usually, when Jesus heals a person, he touches them. One time, Jesus even spit on his fingers and then touched the person in the act of healing. This time, though, there’s no mention of Jesus touching Bartimaeus. Instead, Jesus says only, “Go; your faith has made you well.”
And, we read, “Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.”
But, let’s back up a sentence: Your faith has made you well?
Faith? I mean, I didn’t hear Jesus ask him if he believed in the virgin birth or the Holy Trinity, did you? Or to name the five books of the Pentateuch? Bartimaeus had absolutely no time to finish a confirmation class, did he?
Your faith has made you well? What in heaven’s name did Bartimaeus do to earn that affirmation from Jesus?
The only thing or things obvious to the reader is that, one, by referring to Jesus as “Son of David” he essentially identified Jesus as Messiah. So that’s a plus on the “knows his doctrine” scale.
Oh, and asked twice for mercy. And, in fact, biblical scholars suggest it was this asking twice that is linked to the response from Jesus. And, not just asking twice, but asking twice after first being told to shut up by everyone around him.
The point being that Bartimaeus wanted Jesus’ mercy and compassion badly! Wanted Jesus more than anything else in the world! So badly, that he was bold, audacious, persistent in the face of adversity. Clearly, you’re not persistent in the face of adversity without a powerful internal drive. This man badly wanted to see, and he knew Jesus was his best and only hope. His. Only. Hope. That’s it.
And immediately, Mark says, Bartimaeus regained his sight.
Bartimaeus initially only wanted to regain his sight, which would mean restoration to fellowship in the Temple, which would mean losing the sinner label, which would mean no longer being an outcast, which would mean he wouldn’t have to sit in the hot sun from morning to night.
That’s all Bartimaeus wanted. And, he got it, every single bit of it.
But, of course, this isn’t the end of the story. And here’s where the consequences of engaging Jesus for you and me come in to play.
Because next we read that Bartimaeus decided to follow Jesus on the way. Didn’t turn around, pick up his cloak with his lunch and the few coins he’d received, and go off to explore his brand new color-filled world. No, he followed Jesus on the way.
So, where did Bartimaeus follow Jesus?” This is Mark chapter 10, the very last verse. Mark chapter 11, very first verse, finds Jesus and his followers entering Jerusalem. As you know, Jesus would not leave Jerusalem without being hung on a cross until dead.
Now, you should know that we never hear anything more about Bartimaeus in the New Testament. Curious, isn’t it? If anyone knew what became of Bartimaeus, it never made it into the New Testament.
So, what do you think happened to Bartimaeus?
I have an idea, a very strong hunch, but before I tell you what I bet happened to Bartimaeus, two things:
One, Jesus never calls anyone to follow him that he doesn’t need. Doesn’t really need. Doesn’t call people to follow him that he doesn’t really need to help in his mission of mercy and compassion for the salvation of the world. Safe to say, if Jesus calls you, he needs you.
Two, Jesus never calls anyone who isn’t equipped to fulfill the calling. Equipped at the moment, or at least eminently teachable.
So, now, what happened to Bartimaeus up in Jerusalem?
I don’t know. Nobody knows.
But, I bet – I bet – Bartimaeus had the time of his life.
If we’re honest, most of us, like Bartimaeus, first sought out Jesus for personal benefit, either long ago or fairly recently. As well, personal benefit is at least partly the reason we crawled out of bed this morning to come here. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course. In fact, it’s a good thing, the way we’re made by God. As Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee, O God.”
And, here we are again. In a place where we’ve become accustomed to seeing Jesus – to meeting Jesus, to engaging Jesus. It might even be said that, as with Bartimaeus, by being here today we’re revealing a truth about ourselves that we are nothing if not persistent. We could have stayed home today. We didn’t.
So, here we are, still needy, though persistent faith-motivated people watching Jesus head up the road to where Jesus goes.
Plus, if we’ve engaged Jesus from our depths, we’ve also heard Jesus call us. Heard Jesus call us for the first time or again. Heard Jesus call us to follow him to Jerusalem. To follow Jesus into hostile environments – our Jerusalems – right through those doors.
The reality of this momentous calling to follow Jesus through these doors will, once again, be ours today. As usual, and as usually overlooked in significance, as the last act of our worship, Father Don will bid us in effect, “to follow Jesus into the world.”
For example, Jesus says, Call her here, you, perhaps, and says to you, follow me to your school, your work place filled with beautiful people and impossible people and love the hell out of them.
Or, call him here, you perhaps, and says, follow me and have mercy on that person in your family whom you can hardly stand. Have mercy, compassion. After all, do you really know what it’s like to be that person?
Or, call her here, you perhaps, and says, follow my example and do something that’s getting harder every day in America: Give a darn about people who don’t think like you. Right wing, left wing; Republican, Democrat. Listen. Care.
Or, call him here, you perhaps, and says, follow me and choose your life’s work not by money you might make, but by the opportunity you can gain to love and serve.
Or, call her here, you perhaps, and says, just tell the truth as you see it. Just tell the truth. And, remember, I’m with you always.
Or, call him here, you perhaps, and says, spend your money on things that last, not on things that perish, for where your treasure is, there is your heart – and I need your heart.
Dear friends: We are here, and if we’ve been engaged with Jesus, we’ve heard ourselves called. Called to follow Jesus to Jerusalem – follow through these doors, then north, south, east, west. Follow Jesus to challenging, dangerous places and situations. Where Jesus needs us. Not someone like you or me, but needs exactly you or me.
And, yes, it’s true. Like Bartimaeus, we may never be heard from again.
But, by all accounts, we’ll have the time of our lives.