“Broken Down by the Side of the Road”

 

Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, he is calling you.”

So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus [Mark 10:49-50].

For years now, I’ve been captivated by the story of blind Bartimaeus. It’s the Gospel reading appointed for this upcoming Sunday [Mark 10:46-52, the Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost, RCL, Year B]. Luke offers us a similar story [Luke 18:35-43], albeit with fewer details. For example, in the Lukan passage, Bartimaeus is unnamed. I’ve sometimes pictured what might have gone through Bartimaeus’ mind as Jesus approached him on that day so long ago ….

He sat on the ground along the side of the road that passed out of Jericho and continued on toward Jerusalem. As was his habit, he spread his cloak out before him. His cloak—ah, that cloak was his only possession. It was multi-functional. At night, it kept at least some of the cold away from his frail body. During the day, it could provide shade if the sun was too high. It could also serve as a two-dimensional “table” of sorts, unrolled to receive what few coins and trinkets passers-by might toss his way.

You see, he was just a blind beggar. At an earlier point in his life—a time the remembrance of which was slipping away—he had been sighted and confident like the others. Along with sight, then he had enjoyed the hope that fills the breasts of many young men. “Work hard; stay devoted to Yahweh. Help those upon whose path one might find oneself,” he had once told himself.

All that had changed when blindness descended upon him. Since that fateful day, his world had been filled with darkness and dread. Dependent upon others, he was at the mercy of those who surrounded him. And, for the most part, those persons were not very merciful.

Not a few mocked him because of his blindness. Taunting him, some had said, “Surely your sins are great, Bartimaeus, else the LORD would not have removed your sight.” Others were silent, drawing pleasure from tossing small stones or worthless bits of metal onto his cloak to see if he could tell the difference between the sound of a coin and a sliver of flint.

Years of darkness now had allowed his brain often to ponder if he indeed had committed some unpardonable sin? Did Yahweh strike down those who had wronged others? If so, how could he now make amends? He was without resources. Indeed, he often went more than a day without eating. How could one repent of an unknown sin?

In recent days, he had heard about a young rabbi who had burst upon the scene. “This one is different,” said some of those who had heard him preach and lecture. Others said it was rumored that the rabbi had fed 5,000 persons on a hillside with just a few loaves and a couple of small fish. And there were the miraculous healing stories—these were the ones that had piqued Bartimaeus’ interest. At Bethsaida, Jesus was said even to have healed a blind man. “Oh! To have been at Bethsaida …,” Bartimaeus thought to himself.

Still others suggested that this Jesus might be the long-awaited One. After all, he had courageously stood up to the teachers of the law and the Pharisees. He had mastered their word traps, tying their arguments into knots. Rumor had it that Jesus was going to pass through Jericho that very day as he traveled on to Jerusalem where some thought he might face down the Romans and call for revolution.

“He’s coming; Jesus of Nazareth is coming,” shouted one excited young woman from no more than 20 yards away.

“Could it be true? Might this Jesus get close enough to see him?” thought blind Bartimaeus. And so, he called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” [Mark 10:47b].

Immediately, he heard the chiding remarks of many in the crowd, telling him to quiet down. “They want him for themselves,” thought Bartimaeus. “They want to keep me in my place.”

But then Bartimaeus remembered that the very walls of Jericho had once been felled by persistent Hebrews who marched around it while sounding their trumpets. And so he determined to make his own voice as loud as one of those horns so that he could be heard above the cacophony of the crowd. With all his lungs he yelled, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And suddenly, the rabbi stopped. Bartimaeus was certain that the young man had stopped because he could hear the uneasy calmness of the crowd. The air turned still as well, as if it too was anticipating some word from this wonderfully powerful man. And then he heard it. Bartimaeus heard the clear, calm voice of Jesus say to the crowd, “Call him here.”

And they, who just a moment ago had bid him to be silent, now said to Bartimaeus, “Take heart; get up, He is calling you.”

For blind Bartimaeus, it was as if the heavens had parted. It was as if the arid earth had suddenly been showered by a life-giving rain. He threw off his cloak, sprang to his feet—he was blind, he wasn’t lame. He ran to Jesus, who looked him in the eyes and said, “What do you want me to do for you?”

“My teacher, let me see again.”

“Go, your faith has made you well.”

Having regained his sight immediately, Bartimaeus decided “to go” in whatever direction that Jesus was headed. And so, Bartimaeus followed Him on the way.

In our own world two millennia later, the scene is repeated every day. Most of us are a lot more like blind Bartimaeus than we would care to admit. Our vision is clouded by so many things. It may be clouded with envy or jealousy. It may be clouded by career or our need for social standing.

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus asks us, “Can anyone by worrying add a single hour to his or her life?” [Matthew 6:27]. And yet we allow worry to cloud our vision. We fret about infection, about financial matters, about our children or our parents.

Our vision is cloud by lost perspective. We go through the motions of functioning in a world that seems to “Zoom” right past us. “Do I shake your hand or give you a hug,” we think, “or is a fist pump all that we should manage?” All too often today, we can’t seem to see far enough to gauge our next step. Sometimes it seems that the only safe thing we can do is sit down beside the road near Jericho and hope for mercy.

But brothers and sisters, there is indeed one important thing that we can all do today. For me, it may look a bit different than for you, but the same choice is available to us all. We can listen, for all around us, the words are the same: “Take heart; get up, He is calling you.”

And so, in the end, the story of Bartimaeus becomes much more than a healing story. It becomes a “calling” story, a story that shows you and me that Jesus doesn’t just want to give us back our vision; He wants to make us one with Him. And the only way that such Oneness can come about is if we follow Him.

Let us all throw aside our cloaks and run toward our Savior who will show us the way, because He is that Way!