Blind Faith

Mark 10:46-52

October 28, 2018

            I am title challenged. In other words, I struggle with coming up with titles for my sermons, for anything I write. It isn’t that I don’t have the ability to come up with a good or catchy title for something. But with short stories or essays or poetry, the titles most often rise up out of what I’ve written. But sermons are different. Sermons are tricky. Generally, I have to come up with my sermon title before I write the sermon. That means that while I’m writing, I worry constantly about whether or not my sermon actually reflects the title I’ve given it. It’s not unusual for me to feel pressured by the title I’ve chosen; especially when I think I’ve come up with something clever and catchy. I have such a great title, but this sermon isn’t living up to it! I tell myself not to get obsessed about it. Do people really sit there and wonder why my sermon doesn’t seem to match the title? Probably not. But if you do, don’t tell me. But it still bugs me.

Brent told me a story shared from his pastor about another preacher who hated coming up with titles. He hated them so much that every sermon was entitled the same way; “Ponderings On …” And then whatever scripture passage he was preaching on would finish the title.

If I used his example, this sermon would be entitled, “Ponderings On Mark 10:46-52,” But it’s not called that. It’s called, “Blind Faith.” When I told Brent the title, he thought I was referring to the blues rock band started by Eric Claption, Ginger Baker, Steve Winwood, and Ric Greich. But that wasn’t my inspiration.

I also realized after I chose this title that the expression, “blind faith,” is sometimes used disparagingly. To some, blind faith means that the person with the blind faith has just checked out on using their brain or reason or logic at all. You just have blind faith in God or another person without any critical thinking to go along with it. But I chose the title, “Blind Faith,” because it seemed an obvious description of what is happening in this story. Bartimaeus was blind, but he is an astonishing and incredible example of faith; therefore, “Blind Faith.”

Bartimaeus’ story comes at the end of chapter 10, and essentially at the end of the first part of Mark’s gospel. Immediately after this story, Jesus makes his “triumphal entry,” into Jerusalem. He is moving ever more quickly and inexorably toward the cross. But before he and the disciples come to the Mount of Olives, and before he sends two of the disciples to fetch a colt from a nearby village, and before he enters Jerusalem on that colt’s back, and before the people lay palm branches and cloaks on the road to mark his entry, Jesus and the disciples and the large crowd following along were leaving Jericho.

Mark tells us that Bartimaeus, or Bar-Timaeus, son of Timaeus, was “a blind beggar sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’”

Bartimaeus may have been blind, but he was not deaf. He must have heard the commotion of a large number of people, and the sound of so many feet walking past him. He must have heard the babble of voices, the whispers of wonder, the cries of expectation, the excited discussions about this Jesus in their midst. Perhaps even before he heard Jesus and the disciples and the crowds walking by, Bartimaeus had already heard rumors about Jesus, about what this strange man of Nazareth was doing and saying. Maybe Bartimaeus just knew, just perceived in a way that went beyond the physical senses, who Jesus truly was. However he knew about Jesus, he knew about Jesus.

He started shouting to him, trying to get his attention.

“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

You would think that the people around Bartimaeus would have recognized what an opportunity this was for Timaeus’ son. Here is someone who could help Bartimaeus, heal Bartimaeus. Instead they tried to hush him.

“Be quiet, Bartimaeus!” “Stop shouting, Bartimaeus!” “Don’t bother the teacher, Bartimaeus!” “Who are you to cry out to him, Bartimaeus?”

But all their efforts to shush him, to quiet him, to stifle him, were naught. Bartimaeus just shouted louder.

“Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus heard. Jesus stopped walking, stood still, and called Bartimaeus to him. I suspect that the same people who were trying to hush Bartimaeus were now the ones encouraging him to get up and go to Jesus.

“Hush Bartimaeus! Oh wait, he wants to see you. Go Bartimaeus!”
            However visually impaired Bartimaeus may have been, he seemed to have no mobility issues. He didn’t just get up from the side of the road, he sprang up. He threw off his cloak and jumped up from where he was sitting and went to Jesus. Jesus then asked him a question which should have seemed obvious.

“What do you want me to do for you?”

“My Teacher, let me see again.”

Without touching him, uttering a prayer, or speaking other words that would seem to bring forth healing, Jesus healed him. Jesus merely said to him,

“Go; your faith has made you well.”

Immediately, Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus, once a beggar by the side of the road, regained his sight. He saw and he followed.

What do you want me to do for you? Perhaps Jesus didn’t ask that question to be obtuse or to make Bartimaeus speak his desire. Perhaps that question was to get at the heart of what Bartimaeus really desired. He wanted to see again. Jesus gave him back his sight. When we think of a gospel with layers upon layers of meanings, we most likely think of the gospel of John. But I think there are layers in this story; there is more happening here, more being said, than a physical healing.

Don’t misunderstand me. Bartimaeus was healed of his physical blindness. But there was a seeing that went far beyond the physical. Bartimaeus could not see Jesus to have faith in him. But still he saw. He believed. He did not seem to just believe that Jesus was a healer. He called him “Son of David,” another way of saying Messiah. He called him, Teacher, my Teacher. He shouted not for healing, but for mercy. Bartimaeus had blind faith – not only because he was blind and believed, but because he was able to believe without needing to see. Jesus gave him back his sight, and what did he do? He didn’t run off and tell his friends or return to his family. He followed. He followed.

I’m not sure we are called to have blind faith, the kind of faith that chucks off reason and logic and thought. But I do think we are called to trust as deeply and as surely as Bartimaeus did. I think we are called to see how we are blind; how we walk through the world with blinders on: blind to others’ pain, blind to how our actions affect others, blind to the consequences of our sin.

The events of this past week, of yesterday, call us to remove our blinders. The violence in our world, in our country is real. As I was trying to ponder what to say in this sermon, I heard about the deadly shooting at a synagogue in Pennsylvania. People worshipping peacefully, observing the Sabbath, were gunned down by a man with death and violence and distorted vengeance on his mind and in his heart. They were our sisters and brothers. That man is our brother. The man who sent pipe bombs to so many prominent people last week; he is our brother. Believe me, I don’t like to call him that. I don’t want to admit that. I want to hate. But I cannot have blind faith. Just as Jesus restored Bartimaeus’ sight, he calls me to open my eyes, my mind and my heart. The people who are harmed are our family, and the people who do the harm are as well. And just as I am called to see this truth, to acknowledge it, I am called to live accordingly. And I am called to accountability, to admit my own culpability in the brokenness and the violence of our time. To have faith in Mark’s gospel is to follow Jesus; to follow with trust and persistence, even when we doubt. But it is also to see; to really, really see. We are called not to follow blindly, oblivious to the heartbreak of the world, focused only on our own personal relationship with Jesus. We are called to follow with eyes wide open, with hearts wide open, with minds wide open, with hands wide open. We are called to follow and to see. Jesus healed Bartimaeus. He gave him back his sight. But he also showed him mercy. Isn’t that what we are calling for? Isn’t that what we need? Mercy.

Aren’t we all in need of mercy? Aren’t we all blind in some way or another? Don’t we need to be healed? Don’t we need to finally see, to really see as if our faith depends on it?

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia. Amen.”