Mark 10:46-52 · Blind Bartimaeus Receives His Sight
Squeaky Wheels
Mark 10:46-52
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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Now that we're deep into fall, it's the time for an annual battle to begin again. For those of us in cold climates the yearly ritual of feeding the wintering birds is underway. And with that tradition comes yet another annual event - the war against the squirrels.

Why it matters so much to nature lovers that they feed only the feathered and never the furred creatures is somewhat of a mystery. But there have been thousands of dollars spent in the name of squirrel defense over the years. Anyone living in a rural, wooded area can testify to the plenitude of both fur-bearing and feathered free-loaders queuing up to the trough.

From personal experience I suspect that the squirrel wars may camouflage the ugly truth that what we are actually trying not to feed is the squirrel's universally hated naked-tailed cousin . . . the wood rat. A bird feeder alive with the twittering presence of juncos, nuthatches and chickadees is one thing. A feeding station squirmingly full of fat and sassy rats is quite another!

Have you seen any of those video-tapes (you can purchase them) that chronicle the tireless, sometimes hilarious, often balletic attempts of the wily squirrel to beat all the safety devices humans install to keep them away from the birdseed? Demonstrating tremendous problem-solving abilities as well as physical dexterity, hungry squirrels have figured out how to climb around baffles, ride whirlygigs, leap unbelievable distances, and hang from their toenails in order to reach and pillage the beckoning bird feeder.

[At this point you may want to show-off some squirrel proof feeders that either you have in your yard, or that your people have devised for their yards. You can show pictures of these and get their inventors to tell the story of how they created them, or just show off a couple. One of the best I've seen was created by Paul Hammer, senior pastor at Mount Washington Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, and installed off his deck. It used multiple pulleys and was threaded through at least three trees.]

Our own squirrel-proof feeder took our resident fox squirrels about fifteen minutes to figure out. Because the feeding tray has a weighted cover that closes over the seeds if too heavy a creature sits on it, the squirrels simply attack from above. They shimmy out to the end of the branch, hang upside down from their back feet, stretch their bodies down just as far as they can, reach out with their front paws, and delicately scoop the seed out with their nimble fingers. Only very occasionally do they slip off, and then it's probably because they are so weighted down with their full tummies that they can't hold up their own weight anymore.

The squirrels have found that their persistence eventually pays off. If they keep working at it, keep trying new ways to beat it, keep their minds and their muscles focused on the prize they will surely find a way.

In this week's gospel text blind Bartimaeus is a bit like one of those pesky squirrels. Hearing that Jesus of Nazareth is coming his way this blind beggar begins hollering out into the dark that surrounds him, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me" (verses 47-48). But the crowd surrounding Jesus tries to shush up Bartimaeus. Jesus offers spiritual sustenance to all who hear him. But those who have already been fed now believe that these gifts are intended only for a special few certainly not for such cast-off dregs of society as a blind beggar by the roadside.

Blind Bartimaeus won't be silenced. He refuses to listen to the no the crowd throws at him. He refuses to admit defeat. He refuses to slink back to his place in the dust by the road. Bartimaeus believes with all his heart that this Jesus is his one chance to gain what he desires most restoration to wholeness. With his eyesight returned, Bartimaeus knew he would no longer be forced to beg for food and alms in order to survive. With his eyesight restored Bartimaeus could work again, become useful again. With his eyesight restored, Bartimaeus could make his own way. Nothing . . . no protective crowd, no social barriers, no rules of etiquette, would stand in his way.

Bartimaeus simply ignored the crowd and hollered for Jesus even louder.

Bartimaeus' persistence paid off. The sound of the blind man's voice carried over the protestations of the crowd and reached Jesus' ears. That single voice, repeatedly crying out for Jesus' mercy, brought the entire journey to Jerusalem the status symbol of being on the way to a dead stop.

Jesus took the entire entourage off-line and came to a stand-still in order to respond to that repeated plea for his mercy, for his attention. Once given this opening, Bartimaeus doesn't hesitate to take the steps necessary to get him where he needs to be, to get him what he desires most.

Finally invited to approach Jesus, Bartimaeus throws aside his cloak his final mantle of respectability to reach Jesus' side more quickly. He instantly responds to Jesus' question "What do you want me to do for you?" (verse 51), but with the respect and reverence he feels for the one he stands before: "My rabbouni , let me see again."

Jesus proclaims Bartimaeus healed. Why? Because "your faith has made you well." But it's also true that Bartimaeus was healed because he refused to shut up, to give up, or to go away. Bartimaeus' faith resided not only in his heart. It resounded in his insistent, persistent voice.

This coming Saturday, November 1 is All Saints Day. It's the day the church sets aside to cast her eyes back at the long-list of saints who have existed among every generation of Christians since the first century. We usually think of saints as people who lived exceptionally virtuous lives, people who sacrificed their livelihood and even their lives in the name of Jesus.

Some saints fit this job description. Some saints had extraordinary gifts of healing and insight, profound piety, or great intellect. But there is one saintly quality that is rarely sung, almost never recognized.

Saints are persistent. Look back over the life histories of any saint and you will find that these were not people who took no for an answer. If they weren't bugging some institution or individual they were bugging God with their questions, with their quests, with their petitions, their anger, their tears, their joys, their sorrows. They never stopped beseeching God for attention, for answers, for miracles.

Saints are squeaky wheels demanding the world's attention and demanding the divine's attention. Abraham kept arguing with God and whittling God down about the number of righteous men needed to save a city. Jacob kept wrestling with the angel until daybreak, refusing to let go or let up (Genesis 32:24-29). Moses annoyed God for forty days and nights, pleading with him not to destroy the Israelites (Deuteronomy 9:25-27). Paul prayed the same prayer Moses did (Romans 9:3), over and over again. The psalmist cried to the Lord day and night (Psalm 88:1) and wouldn't stop praying. The term saint in the Protestant tradition has two layers of meaning.

1) There is still a recognition of those unique individuals touched by God in such a way that their own touch burned with extraordinary divine heat. In the work and mission of these believers miraculous healings occurred and events that confound explanations by physics, chemistry, and biology transpired.

2) But the term saint also applies to the legion of believers who have served quietly and faithfully in the foxholes of the church throughout the centuries. It's the rich mix and dense mass of these saints that has created the extraordinarily rich tradition of the church, fertile humus of human experience upon which the church continues to grow and thrive.

And among this vast richness, these generation of strong, stalwart beggars, there is a deep and wide striation of stubbornness, of persistence, of general pain-in-the-neck, we-won't-go-away tenacity that has enabled Christ's presence and the Holy Spirit's gentle breath to blow down insurmountable obstacles.

Slavery is an institution as old as human civilization. Yet the persistence of those saints called abolitionists banished it from this country. Jim Crow was a stain dyed deep into this land, but the persistence of those saints called civil rights activists bleached it out of the fabric of our lives. Sexism was an excuse for disregarding and dis-establishing half the population of this country, but the persistence of those saints called suffragettes and women's libbers gave vote and voice to all American women. Jesus' story about the friend asking for bread (Luke 11:5-10) concludes in the following way: "So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."

Or as one translation puts it, "keep on asking . . . keep on seeking . . . keep on knocking."

Now What?

ChristianGlobe Networks, Collected Sermons, by Leonard Sweet