A Question of Blindness
Mark 10:46-52
We often miss a marvelous wordplay in this passage--it is there in the blind man's name--Barthimaeus, son of Timaeus. In Greek, it reads, "Son of a blind man, son of a blind man." This whole passage is going to center on blindness, and not the kind of blindness a good many of us deal with on a daily basis--the blindness cured by a cheap pair of reading glasses or making the font bigger on our tablets and laptops. Nope--this is deep blindness--generational blindness--congenital blindness--a blindness that is total, that passes from one generation to the next, an inescapable darkness.
Yet, as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that the only literally blind man in it is not the blind who needs healing.
Let me explain...
As the story begins, Jesus, the disciples, and the crowds are on the road to Jerusalem. This trip will Jesus' last. He is on his way to the cross. No one knows that except him, but everyone seems anxious to get there, preoccupied with the trip, sensing that something momentous is on its way.
And then comes an interruption.
A blind man cries out from his mat, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"--which is really a complicated way to simply say, "Help me!"
"Help me!"
Which brings forward a question--whom do you see?
I want that question in front of us because of what happens next.
The man is making a spectacle of himself. He is yelling and demanding notice. And some in the crowd rebuke him--Mark tells us they strongly rebuke him--in other words, they don't just say, "Now, now...hold on...Jesus is busy...just be still"--no--they basically scream back at him, "SHUT UP, YOU MORON!! WE AIN'T GOT TIME FOR THIS MESS!!"
Now, of course, none of us wants to imagine that we would rebuke this poor soul so harshly. We want to believe we would encourage him.
But...let me make a confession as a pastor--sometimes cries for help are nothing but bothersome, irritations, and annoyances. I finish a long day at the church house. I just want to go home, sit on my sofa and stare out the window. There doesn't need to be anything happening in the backyard--just sitting and staring out the window is enough. Then the phone rings. I look at the number. I have to answer it. It is someone needing something important. Now, in my mind--never out loud would I say it--I think, OH, PLEASE--JUST SHUT UP! Then, I suck in a breath and answer with all my good manners.
I know you feel the same sometimes. Someone needs something, and we just don't have it to answer. We are stressed, tired, weary. We can't deal with another demand. We get edgy and raw.
That is especially true in times like these. The cries for help come from everywhere. They are loud. They are demanding. There is too much need. There are too many desperate people. And desperate people are persistent. They refuse to be quiet. They need help. They need it now.
Do we see that? Do we see the desperation?
Or are we just annoyed? Are we put out? Are we simply giving in to being overwhelmed by the cries for help?
Whom do we see?
The man refuses to be silenced. He cries all the louder, "SON OF DAVID! HAVE MERCY ON ME!!"
Desperation will not be silenced. No, it demands acknowledgment. It demands to be seen.
This blind man is desperate beyond desperation.
No one sees it.
Which raises a second question--who is blind?
Desperation rises all around us.
Do we see it?
Do we see it in a caravan of the poor coming north from Central America? Do we? Or do we see only a threat?
Do we see it in a synagogue shooting in Pennsylvania? Do we see and acknowledge the worst killing of Jews in the Unites States?
Do we see it in bombs mailed to human beings because they are of a different political stripe?
Or do we see only a threat to be feared coming north?
Do we see only a random act of madness?
Do we see only a nutcase with too much postage to spend?
Do we see only another annoyance, irritation, and blip?
We need to see our own responsibility in all this madness around us. If we allow political discourse to become dehumanizing rants against our opponents in which we declare them beneath contempt, collectively insane, and enemies of the people, we need to expect someone somewhere is going to feel justified in a violent response toward them. If we demonize refugees and immigrants desperate for help, hope, and healing, we need to expect a violent reaction against them. If we scapegoat a minority amongst us as the cause of all our problems, then someone will take violent action against them.
That is what blindness does--it keeps us from seeing things as they actually are. When all we feel is outrage, we can no longer see. Our anger blinds us.
The crowd no longer sees Barthimaeus. They see only a problem to be silenced.
Now, turn to Jesus.
As the scene devolves into a chaotic maelstrom--I imagine folks from the crowd forcibly trying to shove the blind man from the road, maybe pounding on him to be quiet--note Jesus. Mark tells us he simply stands still--calm within the storm.
He sees the man.
"Bring him to me."
And once again, a simple word from Jesus stills the storm.
As Barthimaeus stands before Jesus, Jesus asks him a question, "What do you want me to do for you?"
I do not want us to miss the power of this simple question. It seems like an absurd question--we all know that what Barthimaeus needs and wants is to see. Why slow things down to ask?
Because Jesus wants Barthimaeus to know that he does not presume to know what Barthimaeus wants. He offers Barthimaeus the dignity of asking for himself. It is such a simple thing, but it is a tremendously compassionate thing to do. Maybe--wild as it may be--Barthimaeus will ask for something other than seeing. Maybe. So, Jesus gives him the space, the moment, and the freedom to ask.
Do not miss the power of such a question.
In Augusta, Georgia, there is a ministry working with the homeless and the grievously poor in that community called GAP Ministry. They have a space in their facility that looks like a grocery store. In some ministries working with this demographic, food is handled efficiently and easily. Pre-bagged groceries are prepared and handed out to the poor. Everything is in there for a few balanced meals. It is a good and worthy service. But...at GAP Ministry, clients are invited to peruse the grocery aisles to pick their own groceries. GAP is basically asking Jesus' question, "What do you want me to do for you?"--and then responding by letting clients enjoy a freedom you and I take completely for granted. No grocery store meets us with a pre-bagged grocery cart, assuming to give us what we want. No, we get to choose. So, too, do those Augustans. They get to choose. They are persons with freedom, choice, and imagination. A woman may leave with a bag full of Pop Tarts, but she got to choose.
That simple question--what do you want me to do for you?--removes our blindness. It forces to see the person before us.
And in seeing, we can answer desperation.
Imagine if, instead of a battalion of soldiers armed and ready to repel a migrant caravan, we instead met that caravan with a battalion of soldiers asking, What do you want us to do for you? My own family history is one of immigrants with questionable character. The Watkins from whom I come were told to leave Great Britain or go to prison. They left. Someone met them with Jesus' question, no matter what their backstory. They found a home in Illinois, and here I am today. Could that not happen again? It can with Jesus' question.
Imagine if, instead of hateful venom spewed during election season, candidates instead asked us, the voting public, "What do you want me to do for you?" Imagine if we felt our desperation in a chaotic world met with genuine caring, compassion, and grace. Might that world not transform?
Imagine if, instead of biting prejudice and bigotry, we met those different from ourselves with Jesus' question--might we not see what binds us together rather than what drives us apart? Might we not see clearly a way to peace and coexistence?
Imagine...
The man can see.
We can, too. He really didn't need healing--he knew he was blind, he knew he needed it fixed, and so it was. No, it is the crowd whose blindness is pervasive, destroying, and in desperate need of healing. By the end, they, too, can see.
So can we.
Just ask these questions--
WHO DO I SEE?
WHO IS BLIND?
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO FOR YOU?
Then, we can change our world.
We often miss a marvelous wordplay in this passage--it is there in the blind man's name--Barthimaeus, son of Timaeus. In Greek, it reads, "Son of a blind man, son of a blind man." This whole passage is going to center on blindness, and not the kind of blindness a good many of us deal with on a daily basis--the blindness cured by a cheap pair of reading glasses or making the font bigger on our tablets and laptops. Nope--this is deep blindness--generational blindness--congenital blindness--a blindness that is total, that passes from one generation to the next, an inescapable darkness.
Yet, as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that the only literally blind man in it is not the blind who needs healing.
Let me explain...
As the story begins, Jesus, the disciples, and the crowds are on the road to Jerusalem. This trip will Jesus' last. He is on his way to the cross. No one knows that except him, but everyone seems anxious to get there, preoccupied with the trip, sensing that something momentous is on its way.
And then comes an interruption.
A blind man cries out from his mat, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"--which is really a complicated way to simply say, "Help me!"
"Help me!"
Which brings forward a question--whom do you see?
I want that question in front of us because of what happens next.
The man is making a spectacle of himself. He is yelling and demanding notice. And some in the crowd rebuke him--Mark tells us they strongly rebuke him--in other words, they don't just say, "Now, now...hold on...Jesus is busy...just be still"--no--they basically scream back at him, "SHUT UP, YOU MORON!! WE AIN'T GOT TIME FOR THIS MESS!!"
Now, of course, none of us wants to imagine that we would rebuke this poor soul so harshly. We want to believe we would encourage him.
But...let me make a confession as a pastor--sometimes cries for help are nothing but bothersome, irritations, and annoyances. I finish a long day at the church house. I just want to go home, sit on my sofa and stare out the window. There doesn't need to be anything happening in the backyard--just sitting and staring out the window is enough. Then the phone rings. I look at the number. I have to answer it. It is someone needing something important. Now, in my mind--never out loud would I say it--I think, OH, PLEASE--JUST SHUT UP! Then, I suck in a breath and answer with all my good manners.
I know you feel the same sometimes. Someone needs something, and we just don't have it to answer. We are stressed, tired, weary. We can't deal with another demand. We get edgy and raw.
That is especially true in times like these. The cries for help come from everywhere. They are loud. They are demanding. There is too much need. There are too many desperate people. And desperate people are persistent. They refuse to be quiet. They need help. They need it now.
Do we see that? Do we see the desperation?
Or are we just annoyed? Are we put out? Are we simply giving in to being overwhelmed by the cries for help?
Whom do we see?
The man refuses to be silenced. He cries all the louder, "SON OF DAVID! HAVE MERCY ON ME!!"
Desperation will not be silenced. No, it demands acknowledgment. It demands to be seen.
This blind man is desperate beyond desperation.
No one sees it.
Which raises a second question--who is blind?
Desperation rises all around us.
Do we see it?
Do we see it in a caravan of the poor coming north from Central America? Do we? Or do we see only a threat?
Do we see it in a synagogue shooting in Pennsylvania? Do we see and acknowledge the worst killing of Jews in the Unites States?
Do we see it in bombs mailed to human beings because they are of a different political stripe?
Or do we see only a threat to be feared coming north?
Do we see only a random act of madness?
Do we see only a nutcase with too much postage to spend?
Do we see only another annoyance, irritation, and blip?
We need to see our own responsibility in all this madness around us. If we allow political discourse to become dehumanizing rants against our opponents in which we declare them beneath contempt, collectively insane, and enemies of the people, we need to expect someone somewhere is going to feel justified in a violent response toward them. If we demonize refugees and immigrants desperate for help, hope, and healing, we need to expect a violent reaction against them. If we scapegoat a minority amongst us as the cause of all our problems, then someone will take violent action against them.
That is what blindness does--it keeps us from seeing things as they actually are. When all we feel is outrage, we can no longer see. Our anger blinds us.
The crowd no longer sees Barthimaeus. They see only a problem to be silenced.
Now, turn to Jesus.
As the scene devolves into a chaotic maelstrom--I imagine folks from the crowd forcibly trying to shove the blind man from the road, maybe pounding on him to be quiet--note Jesus. Mark tells us he simply stands still--calm within the storm.
He sees the man.
"Bring him to me."
And once again, a simple word from Jesus stills the storm.
As Barthimaeus stands before Jesus, Jesus asks him a question, "What do you want me to do for you?"
I do not want us to miss the power of this simple question. It seems like an absurd question--we all know that what Barthimaeus needs and wants is to see. Why slow things down to ask?
Because Jesus wants Barthimaeus to know that he does not presume to know what Barthimaeus wants. He offers Barthimaeus the dignity of asking for himself. It is such a simple thing, but it is a tremendously compassionate thing to do. Maybe--wild as it may be--Barthimaeus will ask for something other than seeing. Maybe. So, Jesus gives him the space, the moment, and the freedom to ask.
Do not miss the power of such a question.
In Augusta, Georgia, there is a ministry working with the homeless and the grievously poor in that community called GAP Ministry. They have a space in their facility that looks like a grocery store. In some ministries working with this demographic, food is handled efficiently and easily. Pre-bagged groceries are prepared and handed out to the poor. Everything is in there for a few balanced meals. It is a good and worthy service. But...at GAP Ministry, clients are invited to peruse the grocery aisles to pick their own groceries. GAP is basically asking Jesus' question, "What do you want me to do for you?"--and then responding by letting clients enjoy a freedom you and I take completely for granted. No grocery store meets us with a pre-bagged grocery cart, assuming to give us what we want. No, we get to choose. So, too, do those Augustans. They get to choose. They are persons with freedom, choice, and imagination. A woman may leave with a bag full of Pop Tarts, but she got to choose.
That simple question--what do you want me to do for you?--removes our blindness. It forces to see the person before us.
And in seeing, we can answer desperation.
Imagine if, instead of a battalion of soldiers armed and ready to repel a migrant caravan, we instead met that caravan with a battalion of soldiers asking, What do you want us to do for you? My own family history is one of immigrants with questionable character. The Watkins from whom I come were told to leave Great Britain or go to prison. They left. Someone met them with Jesus' question, no matter what their backstory. They found a home in Illinois, and here I am today. Could that not happen again? It can with Jesus' question.
Imagine if, instead of hateful venom spewed during election season, candidates instead asked us, the voting public, "What do you want me to do for you?" Imagine if we felt our desperation in a chaotic world met with genuine caring, compassion, and grace. Might that world not transform?
Imagine if, instead of biting prejudice and bigotry, we met those different from ourselves with Jesus' question--might we not see what binds us together rather than what drives us apart? Might we not see clearly a way to peace and coexistence?
Imagine...
The man can see.
We can, too. He really didn't need healing--he knew he was blind, he knew he needed it fixed, and so it was. No, it is the crowd whose blindness is pervasive, destroying, and in desperate need of healing. By the end, they, too, can see.
So can we.
Just ask these questions--
WHO DO I SEE?
WHO IS BLIND?
WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO FOR YOU?
Then, we can change our world.
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