Readings (Track 2)

The working title for this sermon: “The Guy Who Stopped Jesus in His Tracks.” Did you notice that in the Gospel reading? “’Son of David, have mercy on me!’ Jesus stood still and said, ‘Call him here.’” Jesus, pretty much constantly in movement in Mark’s Gospel, but in response to Bartimaeus’ words, “Jesus stood still.” That’s what we heard the author of the letter to the Hebrews talking about: “he always lives to make intercession for them.” In our world: the more important the person, the more layers to get through to (maybe) reach them. That’s the surprise with Jesus, Son of David, or (from our Hebrews reading) “such a high priest, holy, blameless, undefiled, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens.” No layers, available 24/7.

That’s followed by a second surprise: Jesus asks Bartimaeus a question: “What do you want me to do for you?” Again, in our world the more important the person, the more assumptions they tend to make about the people around them. Jesus doesn’t do that. He asks Bartimaeus what Bartimaeus wants, recognizes and respects Bartimaeus’ dignity.

Even with the best intentions it’s easy to make assumptions. My first career was in the Christian relief and development agency World Vision. Particularly in development it’s easy to assume that we know what the community needs, how those needs should be met, etc. It takes time and effort to escape such assumptions, and we kept at it also through a standing joke: The three great lies? The check is in the mail. Of course I’ll respect you in the morning. We’re from World Vision and we’re here to help you.

No. Jesus asks, and responds to Bartimaeus’ answer. “My teacher, let me see again.”

Then there’s a third, and final surprise. Jesus’ words invite Bartimaeus to set his own course. “Go; your faith has made you well.” Bartimaeus could have gone home, opened a pizza joint, whatever. Our text: “Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.” That puts Bartimaeus on the short list of competent theologians in Mark’s Gospel: he realized his best course was to follow this Jesus. It’s something like that scene in the movie Under Siege where Tate (the former playmate) says to Ryback “The safest place on this ship is right behind you!”

So that’s the story, and I suppose we could also title it “Be like Bartimaeus.” And stories like this ground the use of the Jesus Prayer in the Orthodox Tradition: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” It’s not a bad practice, and might balance out all the other scripts knocking around in our heads.

And Jesus answers every prayer as directly as Bartimaeus’ prayer? No, and so Jesus tells stories elsewhere about being downright stubborn in prayer, like the widow who wears down the unjust judge by continuing to petition (Lk 18:1-8). And one reason Jesus gathers us into parishes is so that we can encourage each other in this stubbornness.

Now, if we pull back the camera to include the other readings, there’s a larger story, and I’ll notice it briefly before closing.

The Jeremiah reading and the psalm look to a triumphant return from exile to Jerusalem. We know when the exile started: that was the Babylonian (Iraqi) destruction of Jerusalem in 586 bc. When it ended: that’s a trickier question. Some returned after the Persians (Iran) defeated Babylon (Iraq), but Jerusalem remained under foreign heels, first Persian, then Greek, then—also in Jesus’ time—Roman. And by this point in Mark’s Gospel Jesus is headed for Jerusalem, and next story after Bartimaeus is the Triumphal Entry. Our Jeremiah reading mentioned the blind—probably the reason for its pairing with today’s Gospel—so Jesus is following the Jeremiah/Psalm script? The Temple gets cleansed, the Romans thrown out, and the Kingdom fully established?

Well, no. Jesus challenges us to be stubborn in prayer because the Holy Trinity is even more stubborn, not content with half measures, determined to have mercy not only on Jerusalem, but on Susa, Athens, Rome, and cities past the New Testament horizon, like Sun Prairie. And that meant Holy Week, or, as Hebrews puts it, “Unlike the other high priests, he has no need to offer sacrifices day after day, first for his own sins, and then for those of the people; this he did once for all when he offered himself.”

‘Stubborn’ is one word; ‘committed’ equally comes to mind. That ham and eggs breakfast: the chicken is involved, the pig is committed. The Holy Trinity is like the pig, committed to our salvation, stubborn in seeking it, inviting us to recognize in the coming week the multiple opportunities to respond like Bartimaeus.