Mercy For The Asking

Mark 10:46-52

Just for a moment, I want you to close your eyes and imagine that you’re blind. Now, in your mind, imagine completing a few basic tasks. Imagine yourself separating medications, getting your daily meds ready to take. How do you tell them apart? Especially the ones that are shaped about the same? Imagine using the microwave to warm up some leftovers. How do you know you’re using the right button on the microwave. Imagine you’re trying to catch the bus. How do you know you are on the right side of the street? How do you know if the food in the fridge is expired? Just gonna rely on the “smell test?” Think of all the questions you might have because you can’t see.

There’s a non-profit app out now that allows sighted people to “lend their eyes” to those with visual impairments through video chat. Simply put, it’s remarkable. The “Be My Eyes” app was developed by a visually impaired man in Denmark. It connects blind people to sighted volunteers through video chat. Anyone can download the app and offer to help, by the way. It’s easy to find in the app store on your phone. The volunteer can answer questions because they can see the blind person’s surroundings using their phone’s camera.

The other day, a “Be My Eyes” app user connected with a young man who wanted to know the expiration date of the milk in his refrigerator. The visually impaired man positioned his phone’s camera to the top shelf. Looking at the image of the milk carton on his phone, the helper said, ‘I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.’”[i]

As Jesus nears the end of his journey to Jerusalem, where he will be betrayed, endure a sham of a trial, be brutally beaten to within an inch of his life, and then crucified on a Roman cross, he encounters a blind beggar on the road just outside of Jericho. Jerusalem, and all that Jesus knows awaits him there is just 18 miles away. His stress and anxiety had to be incredibly high. But he still sees this man, and cares about his situation, and offers hope and healing.

This is the last message in our journey together through Mark’s gospel until this fall. We’ll be taking a break to look at the life of David in the Old Testament this summer in a series called “Faithfulness and Failure.” Turn with me to Mark 10:46-52.

It’s been a long haul from Capernaum on the northeast shore of the Sea of Galilee around the western side of the lake, and then crossing over the Jordan River, which flows from the Sea of Galilee in the northern part of Israel to the Dead Sea east of Jerusalem in the south. The crossed the Jordan River and traveled along the eastern shore of the river to avoid Samaria, because they viewed the whole region as being unclean – full of spiritual deviants and half-breeds, certainly not people God could ever love or even tolerate, from their perspective.

Jesus, of course, spent a lot of time in Samaria. But this time, as he travels for the last time from Capernaum to Jerusalem, he takes the traditional route taken by Galilean religious pilgrims going to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover there: Around the Sea of Galilee to the west, then across the Jordan River to the eastern part of Israel, and then down along the river, crossing back over the river to the western side at Jericho, and then on to Jerusalem.

Jericho, famous for the famous collapse of its walls in the Old Testament as the people of Israel marched around it, sits just 18 miles north east of Jerusalem down in the Jordan river valley. And by down, I mean really down. At 846’ BELOW sea level, Jericho is one of the lowest cities on earth. Sounds like a miserable place to be, but it is actually one of the loveliest places in the entire Middle East. It is called the City of Palms, and first century Jewish historian Josephus described it as “the most fruitful country of Judea, which bears a vast number of palm trees, besides the balsam tree, whose sprouts they cut with sharp stones, and at the incisions they gather the juice, which drops down like tears.” He goes on to say “This country withal produces honey from bees; it also bears that balsam which is the most precious of all the fruits in that place, cypress trees also … he who should pronounce this place divine would not be mistaken, wherein is such plenty of trees produced as are very rare, and of the most excellent sort.”

Jericho became an inland resort town of sorts, as royals built enormous summer palaces there, complete with swimming pools, gardens, bathhouses, a hippodrome, and a theater. It was the ideal resting place for religious pilgrims before making the arduous climb up to Jerusalem. And it was most definitely up. Pilgrims traveling from Jericho to Jerusalem climbed 2,950’ over just 18 miles of steep, craggy, serpentine road that made for an ideal place for bandits to hide, surprise, and rob people. It was a somewhat dangerous and very arduous 18 mile climb.

At this point on his journey, bandits and a steep, curvy road were the least of Jesus’ worries. To Jesus, Jerusalem meant unimaginable physical, emotional, and mental pain and anguish. It meant torture and death. It was all staring him in the face. But as he departed the oasis in the valley for the climb to Jerusalem, a blind beggar who had positioned himself along the road just outside of Jericho hoping for some charity from the thousands of Galilean pilgrims on their way up to Jerusalem for the Passover called out to Jesus. He couldn’t SEE that it was Jesus. He was blind. But somehow he heard that it was Jesus walking by, and he called out, desperate for help.

Actually, it was more of a shriek. The word Mark used to describe his calling out to Jesus isn’t the word typically used to describe a beggar seeking charity. It’s a word that means to scream or shriek. He isn’t risking his call getting lost in the noise of the crowd. He wants Jesus’ attention. And he’s desperate. No room for dignity or a calm demeanor. He needs help, and the only one who can give it, the one he’s heard has healed blind people just like him over and over again is walking by. He’s isn’t going to throw away his shot. He’s going to take it.

This man is, in the eyes of the people around him, expendable. He doesn’t matter. He is sitting by the roadside totally dependent on others for guidance, for protection, and for charity. He is totally helpless.

When I was in college, a couple of friends of mine went hiking in the woods and hills of central Kentucky like the weekend before final exams in the spring. While they were out hiking, they found a huge vine and used it to swing out over one of the deep ravines common in that part of the country. Well, one friend swung out over the ravine and back. When my friend Steve swung out on the vine, it started slipping out of the tree, so instead of swinging out in midair, he more or less rode the vine right down the steep side of the ravine, breaking his arm on one side of his body and his lower leg on the other side of his body.

When he got back to the dorm from his emergency room later that evening, one arm and the other leg were in casts, and he was in a wheelchair, because with one bad arm he couldn’t use crutches. The problem was that he couldn’t wheel himself around; again, because of the broken arm. He would just sit there and spin in circles if he tried to wheel himself. So we all took turns getting him to class, to meals, to the library to study, wherever he needed to go.

I was up to take him to class for one of his exams. Unfortunately, in my own end-of-spring-semester-exams stress, I forgot. When I finally realized I’d forgotten to take him to his exam, I went running down the hall to his room, where he sat in his wheelchair, blue book and pencils on his lap, looking out the window. He wasn’t mad. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever saw Steve mad. Like ever. I rushed him out of the dorm and over to the building where his exam was supposed to be happening, probably a little to quickly for his comfort, apologizing profusely to him the whole time. And then when we got to the classroom, I apologized profusely to the professor, who was the only one left in the room. Everyone else had completed their exam and left. Fortunately, the professor smiled and had compassion on Steve for having such an idiot friend, and let him take the exam with no penalty. You see, for those couple of months, Steve was completely dependent on others for everything.

This man wasn’t dependent on others for a couple of months. He was dependent on others for everything all the time. Sadly, when the people around him, and around Jesus, heard him shrieking, they told him to shut up. “Jesus doesn’t have time for you, you worthless piece of garbage. Be quiet.” “He can’t be bothered with you, blind man. Important things are going to be happening in Jerusalem. Sit down and shut up.” But he kept calling out to Jesus. It was the only hope he had left, and he wasn’t going to give away his shot.

Have you ever felt dirty, broken, or worthless? Everyone has.

But if someone offered you a $100 bill, would you take it? What if that person wadded it up and threw it on the ground – would you still want it? What if they stepped on it, kicked it, and even spit on it? Could you still go to the store and spend it?

The answer is yes. That bill has value because of what it is, not because of how it looks, where it’s been, or what it’s been used for. A crisp, clean $20 bill is worth the same amount as an ugly, older, more used one.

You may feel like this man. Like you’ve been stepped on, beat up, or kicked around. You may feel dirty, unworthy, or useless. But be encouraged by the $20 bill – no matter what you’ve been through, you still have value to God![ii]

The crowd sees the man and his need, and does nothing to help. They wanted him to shut up. And if there was ever a time in his life when Jesus could have been excused for passing by without stopping, this might be it. But he didn’t do that. He stopped. “Call him.” Call him to me. Funny how the tune of the crowd changed when Jesus wanted to see the man. They went from “Shut up and sit down” to “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you” in the blink of an eye. Crowds are of little concern to Jesus. He sees the individuals who make up the crowd, and the cares and concerns and needs that they carry. He sees you. He sees me.

I’ve been calling his “the blind man” up to this point, but he has a name. “Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus.” And that’s significant, because it is extremely unusual for Mark to name a person being healed. They of course had names. Mark just doesn’t typically mention them. He only names someone Jesus helped one other time. He didn’t even give the name of the wealthy, influential young man who came to Jesus asking what he needed to do to make sure he was saved. We simply know him as the “rich young man” or, in some Bible translations, the “rich young ruler.” But this blind beggar nobody. We know him as Bartimaeus. The least likely to be named, one of the expendables, is one of the only ones to be named.

This man who has been pushed aside and silenced and stepped over and probably stepped on for years is named, and he is named specifically. First and last name, according to the custom of the time. Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. Jesus sees you, and he knows you. But he doesn’t just heal Bartimaeus and head on toward Jerusalem. He asks him a question. “What do you want me to do for you?” This phrase is verbatim the exact same question Jesus asked James and John when they came up to him and said, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

James and John, two of Jesus disciples, and two of the three who were the closest to Jesus, 2/3 of his inner circle, wanted power and glory and influence. “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” What is Bartimaeus’ answer to the same question? “Let me recover my sight.” I just want to see. There is a strong comparison being drawn here between the answer of James and John and the answer of Bartimaeus.

They want to be made powerful. He wants to be made whole. This entire segment of Mark’s gospel is bookended by two episodes of Jesus healing someone who was blind. In between is a lot of material involving the disciples missing the point of what Jesus was saying and doing, over and over again. Truth is, we’re all blind. Sin blinds us to the beauty of the Kingdom of God and life in his Kingdom. It blinds us to what God is doing around us and what God wants to do in us. It blinds us to the deep, deep love and grace and mercy of God. We all need to be healed, not necessarily of physical blindness, but of our spiritual blindness.

I mean, Jesus has been telling the disciples plainly what is coming in Jerusalem. He’s been drawing diagrams for them. Having extra study sessions for them. “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death and deliver him over to the Gentiles. And they will mock him and spit on him, and flog him and kill him. And after three days he will rise” (Mk. 10:33). Could he BE any clearer? And what do they follow this statement by Jesus up with? We want to be the most important people in your coming kingdom. Talk about a face palm moment. They’re blind.

Truth is, we’re all blind. That’s part of the healing that Jesus does in us when we place our trust in him and begin to follow him. He heals us, not of physical blindness, but of spiritual blindness. Spiritually, we are just as helpless and dependent as Bartimaeus. It’s not at all surprising that just before riding triumphantly into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, Jesus last act is to heal a blind man. The great Old Testament prophet Isaiah wrote these words in the voice of the coming Messiah: “And I will lead the blind in a way that they do not know, in paths that they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I do, and I do not forsake them” (Is. 42:16). What are the words of the hymn? “I once was lost but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.”

And when Jesus heals US of our blindness, we are set free to follow him. Look at V. 52. Jesus heals the man, and what does he do? He followed Jesus. The verb tense there is, for all of our grammar nerds, an ingressive imperfect. It’s the verb tense that indicates that something was started and never stopped. This man followed Jesus, and never stopped following him. You know, there’s another very likely reason Bartimaeus is named here. Remember, Mark is writing his gospel to the persecuted Christians in Rome a little over 30 years after the resurrection of Jesus. He’s writing to the church in Rome. It’s likely that these beaten down, bedraggled followers of Jesus knew Bartimaeus, because he was a part of the ongoing body of Christ. “Hey Bart, son of Tim, that’s you Mark’s talking about there, isn’t it?”

When Pierre-Paul Thomas was growing up in Montreal, Canada in the 1940s he couldn’t play hockey with his brothers and it broke his heart. Thomas was born blind – long before a cure was available. So for most of his life he could only imagine the world that people often described to him. For years he walked with a white cane to avoid obstacles in front of him. But at the age of sixty-six, Thomas fell down the stairs in an apartment building and fractured the bones of his face. He was rushed to the hospital with severe swelling around his eyes. A team of doctors went to work to repair the bones. Months later he went to be examined by a plastic surgeon for a consultation about repairing his scalp.

The surgeon casually asked Thomas, “Oh, while we’re at it, do you want us to fix your eyes too?” Thomas did not understand. Nor did he know how to respond. Not long after that, Thomas had surgery and could truly see for the first time.

Suddenly his world consisted of bright colors he had never fathomed before. He spoke of being awestruck by flowers blossoming and trees blooming. As beautiful as this story of a sixty-year-old man who was able to see for the first time is, there is a sad reality. He could have had the same surgery at a younger age and been able to see earlier. Thomas had assumed such a possibility was impossible and had resigned himself to a life of blindness when, in reality, he could have experienced the gift of sight decades earlier.[iii]

“I once was lost but now I’m found. Was blind, but now I see.” And seeing, I am set free to follow Jesus. His mercy is there for the asking. Let’s pray.

[i] Kim Komando, “10 Killer Apps You Shouldn’t Live Without,” Kim Komando blog (05-13-15)

[ii] Mike Silva, Would You Like Fries with That? (Word, 2005) Portland, Oregon

[iii] Adapted from Kyle Idleman, AHA: The God Moment That Changes Everything (David Cook, 2014), page 76; original source: Aaron Derfel, “Blind No More,” Montreal Gazette (7-27-13)