Mark 10:46-52 · Blind Bartimaeus Receives His Sight
Do You See What I See?
Mark 10:46-52
Sermon
by Steven E. Albertin
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There is a gentle and quaint Christmas carol in which the shepherds of Bethlehem point out to everyone they meet on their way the marvel they have seen in the manger. "Do you see what I see?" they ask all those gathered in Bethlehem. According to this Christmas carol, this birth, which had taken place under the most plain and ordinary of circumstances, would surely have been overlooked were it not for those shepherds who called it to everyone's attention by exclaiming, "Do you see what I see?"

In my church secretary's office there hangs a modernistic picture composed of a maze of colors and shapes. I know these sophisticated, modern, and abstract pictures are supposed to contain some profound artistic or philosophical message, but I have never been able to figure it out. It just looks like a jumbled mass of confusion. If there is a message there, I am blind to it.

One day while I was standing in the office, waiting for the copier to warm up, one of the congregation's kindergarten-age boys, Adam, stood beside me and said, "Do you see what I see?"

"Do you see something in that picture? I sure don't."

Adam looked at me with glee in his eye, "Pastor, can't you see him? It's Jesus hanging on the cross."

I stared as hard as I could, until my eyes actually hurt from staring. I wanted to believe Adam and that there actually was the image of Jesus hanging on the cross hidden somewhere in that mass of color and shapes, but I couldn't see Jesus anywhere. "Adam, I'm sorry but I must be blind. You will have to help me see."

Directing his finger to a mass of color in the center of the picture, Adam said, "There, Pastor. Do you see what I see? There is Jesus, his face, his arms outstretched on the cross."

And then, like an epiphany, the image began to appear. Yes, there hidden somehow "behind" the colors and the shapes was the barely visible image of Jesus, hanging with arms outstretched on the cross. "It's amazing, Adam. You have helped one blind pastor to see Jesus. Yes, I can see what you see, Adam."

A similar epiphany happens in today's Gospel. There we meet Bartimaeus, a blind man, son of Timaeus of Jericho, who comes to us with the same question asked by the shepherds in that quaint Christmas carol, who comes to us with the same question asked me by Adam: "Do you see what I see?"

Ironically, it is from those places and people we least expect it that God often makes his most stunning revelations to us. God uses shepherds, kindergarten boys, blind Bartimaeus, a crucified carpenter's son from an out-of-the-way place and an out-of-the-way time, a sip of wine and bit of bread, the pouring of water, the caring hands and firm embraces of ordinary Christians, to help us to see what is ordinarily hidden. God uses them to help us see the most important thing in the world: his love for us in Jesus.

But there is a problem in all of this. We live in a world where no one seems to be able to make any firm and sure claims about anything. In the last generation our society has come under the influence of a way of thinking called "post-modernism." In this world there are nothing but competing interests and points of view. There is no consensus about anything. The only absolute is that nothing is absolute. Everyone has a point-of-view, an ax to grind, a bias to promote.

For example, Indiana University and Purdue fans may watch the same basketball game but have two very different interpretations of what went on. Today we are continually reminded that affluent suburban whites and poor urban minorities see this society and its opportunities in two very different ways. The same could be said for the residents of the developed countries of the first world and the residents of the undeveloped countries of the third world. A divorced mother of three is obviously going to look at marriage much differently than the couple who is celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. With the way Republicans and Democrats view the political issues of our society, one wonders whether they live in the same country. The bottom line in such a world of relativism, pluralism, and diversity is that truth and value are ultimately determined by those with the most bucks, the most guns, or the most votes. Whoever is in power controls the truth. Our world is a world in which we live and die by the polls. Who needs God? We've got Gallup!

In this kind of world the words of Bartimaeus seem all the more incredible. "Do you see what I see? Do you see that Jesus is the Messiah -- and he can heal me -- and you?" How can Bartimaeus claim to see anything? He has no credibility.

First of all, Bartimaeus was just another one of the "multitude" in the Gospel of Mark. In Mark the "multitude" is the ochloi, the great unwashed masses, those anonymous faces who always seem to exist on the fringes of every society. The ochloi are those who sit in the bleachers, if they can afford seats at all. The ochloi shop at Goodwill or Big Lots or at the clearance sale at K-Mart. The ochloi have no college degrees, drive used cars, and live from paycheck to paycheck. The ochloi don't bother to vote any more because voting just means exchanging one crooked politician for another. In other words, Bartimaeus doesn't matter. His opinions don't count. He's just one of the crowd.

On top of that, Bartimaeus is a beggar. This guy is a welfare slouch. He doesn't even hold down a job. He doesn't pay taxes. He just lives off the generosity of others. He doesn't have much spending power. Market researchers don't care what beggars think when they are developing their next product. They only care about those with the spendable income. And that doesn't include beggars like Bartimaeus. He doesn't count.

And most of all, Bartimaeus is blind. He can't see. He can't tell night from day. He can't tell ugly from pretty. He can't read or write. He stumbles around his bleak world swinging his stick in front of him, hoping he doesn't walk out into a busy street or step off a cliff. Who cares what Bartimaeus can see or thinks about anything? In our visual world where appearances and looks mean everything, who wants to hear from someone who can't see what is around the next corner?

No wonder all those in the crowd rebuked and ridiculed Bartimaeus when he said, "Do you see what I see?" Bartimaeus claimed to see what no one else saw: the Messiah. Bartimaeus believed that this Jesus of Nazareth, this wandering preacher and ordinary son of Joseph, the carpenter from that little hick town up north, Nazareth, was "the Son of David." That was no ordinary title. To call Jesus "the Son of David" was Bartimaeus' way of claiming that Jesus was, in fact, the long-awaited Messiah, the descendant of King David, the king of Israel, who would finally fulfill all the hopes and dreams of God's people.

Bartimaeus speaks the same words to us: "Do you see what I see?" Bartimaeus sees Jesus as the ultimate answer to all human striving. Bartimaeus sees Jesus as the final and absolute truth in a world where no one seems to have the nerve to make a claim for the truth of anything. Bartimaeus believes that Jesus has the power to heal his ailment in a world where the only ones who can make such claims are those with the bucks, the guns, and the votes. And Bartimaeus has none of these. Yet, he still believes. And he invites us to believe the same today: "Do you see what I see? Do you believe what I believe?"

It would be tempting to see Bartimaeus as a heroic example of faith. He was unwilling to give up his conviction that Jesus was the Messiah. He had courage. He hung in there even when others discouraged him. He could be seen as a clinical example of the healing powers of faith. See, if you believe hard enough, persistently enough, sufficiently enough, strongly enough, then you will not be disappointed, then you will be healed, then you will be saved.

But that is not what is going on in this story. Yes, Bartimaeus is a key figure, but he is key only because of his relationship to Jesus. And Bartimaeus is always responding to Jesus, who is always taking the initiative. Bartimaeus is moved when he hears the word that Jesus is near. It is in response to what he has heard about Jesus that Bartimaeus dares to come to his outrageous conclusion: that Jesus is the Messiah and that he can heal Bartimaeus. Bartimaeus' faith is not in himself, his own courage, and his own ability to hope even in the face of hopelessness. No, Bartimaeus' faith is not in himself at all but in Jesus. Jesus is the one who encourages and nurtures this faith. And Jesus is the one who finally fulfills Bartimaeus' faith by healing him of his blindness.

It was not that Bartimaeus' faith was so great. No, rather it was the one in whom Bartimaeus believed who was so great.

Bartimaeus' faith in Jesus was not in vain. He was not disappointed. Jesus agreed with what Bartimaeus saw in him. And to prove it, he healed him.

What was it that Bartimaeus saw in Jesus? What is Bartimaeus asking us to see in Jesus? Not only that he is the long-awaited Davidic Messiah, not only that he had the power to undo Bartimaeus' predicament, but that Jesus cared about him! In a world where Bartimaeus had nothing going for him, where it seemed that only the rich and powerful were important, where no one could be trusted, where he had every reason not to believe that he was important, in spite of all this evidence to the contrary, Bartimaeus "saw" in Jesus the love of God for him. And that faith was not in vain. What Bartimaeus "saw" in Jesus by faith and not by sight, Jesus finally granted to him by sight and not just by faith. Bartimaeus was healed of his blindness.

Bartimaeus lives among us now. Bartimaeus is here now asking us the same question: "Do you see what I see? Do you see that God cares for you even though you may be on the fringes of earthly power, anonymous numbers in the ochloi? Do you see that in this world where everyone has a spin, where nothing is as it seems, where everyone has an agenda, where everyone is 'on the make,' that here is someone you can trust -- Jesus?"

"Do you see what I see?" asks Bartimaeus. "Jesus is here, alive, now, in this place, among us. In a world where the truth is reinvented every day by whomever has the power, here we gather to confess a creed that has been handed down for almost 2,000 years unchanged, untainted, unabridged by the power of guns, bucks, and votes."

"Do you see what I see?" asks Bartimaeus. "In a world where there are always strings attached, where there is no such thing as something for nothing, where no one gives you anything without an expectation of getting something in return, here we receive the love and kindness of others, of God, with no questions asked."

"Do you see what I see?" asks Bartimaeus. "In a world of situational ethics, where 'if it feels good, do it,' where morality is determined by majority vote, where goodness and righteousness are good and right if they are good for me, here is a place where right and wrong are not measured by the latest opinion poll."

"Don't you see what I see?" asks Bartimaeus. "In a world where everyone else is trying to keep score, working to get one up on you and always arguing that they are right, as if their lives depended upon it, here things are different. Here you can afford to admit your mistakes, confess your sins, and acknowledge that you are wrong, because here you know that your life does not depend on being right but on the righteousness of Jesus."

"Do you see what I see?" asks Bartimaeus. "Here you can actually pray to someone, to God. Here prayer is not just crossing your fingers and hoping that things will turn out all right. Here prayer is not the last act of desperation but the first line of attack. Here prayer is not just something you do because it makes you feel good but is something that actually changes things. Here prayers are answered. Here miracles happen. Here the blind see. Here what previously was hidden is now revealed."

Let me tell you the story of Hilda. For over fifteen years in Fort Wayne I served as a chaplain in a local nursing home. Over the course of fifteen years you see a lot of lives go past you. One such life was Hilda.

Hilda loved to come to my Thursday morning worship services. She was an old feisty German on the outside, but on the inside she was tender and soft and loved Jesus. Hilda suffered badly from diabetes. She was losing her eyesight. She was almost totally blind. She was confined to a wheelchair because of the poor circulation in her legs. Every few months she would have less of her legs because of another amputation she had to endure.

But Hilda was never discouraged. She never missed a Thursday service because she loved to sing the songs, listen to Scripture, hear a message, but most of all to pray. Every week I would take special prayer petitions and requests from the residents gathered there. It never failed. Hilda always requested a prayer for the healing and the restoration of her eyesight. As her health deteriorated, I expected her to become more realistic and modify those prayers for healing. Maybe she would someday accept the inevitable. But Hilda kept on praying. She always said, "If God raised Jesus from the dead, then God can heal me, then God will make me see." One Thursday I noticed that Hilda was absent. My fears were realized. Hilda had passed away the previous week. But before I could utter a prayer for Hilda's family and friends, now mourning her death, one of the regular residents interrupted me and said, "Don't you think we should offer God a prayer of thanksgiving?"

"Oh, sure," I thought. "We need to thank God for giving us Hilda to know as a friend and sister in the faith."

"Oh, yes, Pastor, we can pray for that. But how about thanking God for answering Hilda's prayer?"

"Oh certainly," I said. "We need to thank God for answering Hilda's prayer and taking her to heaven."

The resident was now getting impatient with me. "But, Pastor, not that prayer! Let's thank God for finally healing Hilda and giving her back her eyesight."

"But Hilda wasn't healed. She died!" I insisted with a firm sense of objectivity.

"But, Pastor, Jesus took Hilda home. And Jesus heals all his friends. That's why I know that Hilda is finally getting to see."

And I thought to myself, Hilda had been blind, but she saw clearly, more clearly that the rest of us. Like blind Bartimaeus before her, she saw Jesus and trusted him. During all those weeks and months she came to weekly worship that was what she wanted me to see. But I was blind to it. It was as if Hilda was telling me; it was as if she was telling all of us: "Do you see what I see?" Hilda may have been blind. Bartimaeus may have been blind. But because they saw Jesus for what he truly was, they could really see. And what they saw by faith was eventually granted to their sight. Bartimaeus was healed. And so was Hilda. That same Jesus is here, now, among us, in this place, to help us see what Bartimaeus and Hilda saw, the only thing that really matters in this whole wide world: Jesus! "

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, Against The Grain -- Wor, by Steven E. Albertin