Jeremiah 31:7-9; Mark 10:46-52
Last Sunday after Trinity
St Barbara’s 27.10.2024
Rev Tulo Raistrick
This is one of those gospel stories that is so vivid it is worth stepping into the shoes, or more likely, the sandals, of someone of the time and imagining it through their eyes.
Imagine you a member of the crowd in Jericho. You are excited. Jericho is your last stop on your pilgrimage before you climb the long, winding road up into the hills to reach Jerusalem. You can’t wait to get there. You’ll be celebrating Passover in what for you is the holiest place on earth, alongside hundreds and thousands of others.
But there’s another reason to be excited too. You heard this teacher, a fellow called Jesus, Jesus of Nazareth, the day before, and you were impressed by what he had to say. Not just that, you were impressed by how he spoke, as if he could see right inside your heart and speak words that seemed to be spoken directly to you, even though there must have been hundreds all gathered around listening. Well, Jesus is making the same trek up to Jerusalem today, so that will make things interesting.
Finally, you’re off. As you get to the outskirts of Jericho, you begin to hear a bit of an altercation going on ahead of you. Someone is shouting out, and others are telling him to be quiet. As you get closer, you can see the cause of the disturbance is a blind beggar. He is shouting out for everyone to hear: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”
You wonder if the beggar has had too much of the early morning sun already. You’re heading up to Jerusalem, the city that David built, the city where David was king of a united and glorious Israel, the city that symbolises all the hopes that Israel will be great once more, and this beggar is calling Jesus “Son of David”, as if he is the successor to David, the next great King, dare you say it, the Messiah that has so long been predicted.
Its ridiculous, let alone dangerous, nonsense of course, and the crowd are rightly trying to hush him up. And, after all, you’ve got a journey to make. You haven’t got the time to stop for a beggar.
But the beggar will not stop. He keeps on shouting out. And that’s when Jesus hears him. You expect him to walk on past – he, too, has a journey to make – but he stops. And he tells you to go and get him and bring him to him. To be honest, speaking to and escorting beggars is a bit below your pay grade, but there is something about Jesus that inspires you to do what he asks you to do, and so you bring him to Jesus. All around, you can hear the grumbling of the crowd, the irritation with this dirty, unkempt beggar who is shouting ridiculous things and holding everyone up. Doesn’t he realise that we are on the important and holy business of pilgrimage?
The beggar does’t act as you expect when you tell him to come to Jesus. You expect him to scrabble about on the ground, picking up all the coins that had been tossed into his laid-out cloak by passers-by, before following. But instead he jumps up, too excited to think about his cloak or his money, and heads straight for Jesus. You have to ask people to move – they are reluctant to move aside for this beggar – but finally you get to Jesus.
And Jesus speaks to him – but not in the way beggars are usually spoken to, but as an equal, in the same way as he would speak to his disciples.
You’ve heard stories of Jesus healing people; maybe he will heal this man straight off. But instead he asks the man a question: “What do you want me to do for you?” Surely the answer is so obvious Jesus doesn’t need to ask, but then you see the impact of these words on the man. No-one has ever treated this man with such respect, such dignity, before. You look at Jesus and you see utter love for this man.
And his response: “I want to see.” You’d heard rumours that on the way to Jericho there had been a big falling-out amongst Jesus’ disciples. He had asked them the same question, and two of them had asked for power and status. But this man does’t ask for money or status. You realise he is asking for something far greater – to be able to see.
And Jesus looks straight at him and tells him: “Your faith has healed you.” At that moment, it feels like scales have fallen from your eyes, as well as from that man’s. For the first time, it feels like you can truly see too – that in front of you is the Son of David, the Messiah, the one who is going to change the world for ever. This man who can speak direct into your heart, this man who treats everyone, no matter how seemingly unimportant or lowly, with the utmost love and respect, this man is God’s anointed.
The crowd get going again, but you now continue with bubbling over joy. You find yourself walking alongside the healed man, talking about Jesus and as later that day you enter Jerusalem you find yourself with him waving palm branches in the air and bursting into spontaneous song: “Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna to the King of Kings!”
But that begins another story.
There is so much in this story worth meditating upon, so many aspects of it which may resonate with us in different ways, but let me share with you three that strike me.
Firstly, I am struck by Bartimaeus’ persistence. He is getting rebuked and shouted down by the crowd – it must have been a particularly intimidating environment for someone who could not see. And yet he persists in calling out to Jesus. He does not give up until he finally gets heard by Jesus.
You may be able to think of times in your own life when things have been particularly difficult. When health has been poor; when you have battled with loneliness, relationship breakdown, depression; when work has been been very tough. At such times it can feel as though there are many voices discouraging us from seeking God’s help. At times, the loudest of those voices can come from within us, the doubt or the cynicism of our own heart and mind. And yet, if like Bartimaeus, we do persevere, Jesus will not only hear us, he will bring us to the very centre of his presence. As James put it in his letter: “Be patient and stand firm, for the Lord’s coming is near.”
Secondly, I am struck by the nature of Bartimaeus’ request. He asks for mercy – “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” He knows that even more than physical healing he needs forgiveness, he needs mercy. Mercy is compassionate action that addresses failure and puts wrongs right, that offers forgiveness.
In recent years I have found myself returning more and more to what is known as the Jesus prayer, which is partly based on Bartimaeus’ words: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us; Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.” That prayer reminds us that we come before the Lord of heaven and earth, the creator of the world, who takes on the name of Jesus, as ordinary as the name Andrew or Barry, and shares our human life, before as Christ, Saviour, he transforms the world, and ascends to God the father in glory. And we ask for his mercy – his forgiveness where that is needed, his grace, his compassion, his love for ourselves, and for a world that is in desperate need. In a world of terrible suffering, whether in Ukraine, Gaza, Lebanon, Sudan, Myanmar, in a world of deep personal grief and loss, often we may find that that is the only prayer we can pray: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.”
And finally, I am struck not just by Bartimaeus’ persistence and request, but also by his response. We are told that after his healing, he immediately “follows Jesus along the way.” It is a lovely reference from Mark, for “the way” was not just the route up to Jerusalem, it was the first name by which the Christian community was called. The fact that we know his name suggests that thirty years on Bartimaeus was still going strong in following Christ when Mark came to write his gospel; he was still walking along the way.
Its an encouragement to us all that when God calls us, he calls us out of an old way of life into something new, something that transforms our lives for the whole of life and for eternity. Some of us here have been travelling that journey of faith for far longer than thirty years; others here for a much shorter period of time. But for all of us, Bartimaeus is a reminder of the transformation that Christ brings and the call to keep on along the way.
May God open our eyes, as he opened the eyes of Bartimaeus, that we may follow him afresh today.
