Lessons in Courage From Bold Bartimaeus

*This post is unchanged from my first sermon at the Church of the Advocate, Chapel Hill on October 27.

'Jesus and his disciples came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was 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!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.'

--Mark 10: 46-52

When I was in college everyone – and I mean, everyone – knew me as Transformer Joe. Not Baseball Joe, not Theatre Joe, not Episcopal Joe, or even Hillbilly Joe, no, I was only Transformer Joe. You see, word got around that I collected action figures, specifically Transformers, and folks would even come to my dorm room to get a tour of what at that time was a modest collection. I was asked to write a piece for the school paper, and when my roommate told someone that he roomed with Joe Mitchell they asked, “Who?” but when he told them Transformer Joe they said, “Oh you room with Transformer Joe?” It’s kind of bummer only being known for one quality or aspect of who you are. Even now I’d like to think that I’m more than Transformer Joe or Father Joe or whatever. We’re all more than just one thing.

Some things never change.

Bartimaeus of Jericho is, like many characters in the stories of Scriptures, often remembered for one thing: being blind. Among scholars, clergy, and kids in Sunday School he’s known as, you guessed it, Blind Bartimaeus. And that’s really not fair because Bartimaeus is much, much more than this particular physical trait. He displays a level of courage that I suspect is Good News for all of us, and his witness helps us, too, remember that more than one thing defines who we are.

We should point out that Bartimaeus is not a person folks would’ve immediately been inspired by. He’s got three strikes against him as soon as we meet him: he’s blind, he’s a beggar, and even his name is unflattering – Bar-timmaeus, “son of Timaeus,” literally means “son of the defiled or unclean.” Yet as is often the case in the story of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the most incredible acts of faith, hope, and charity come from the most unlikely of individuals. 

So here is Bartimaeus, sitting on the side of the dirt road in Jericho, a pit stop on the way to Jerusalem. Jesus and his followers are coming through town on their way to the Passover celebration, in fact, the very next event in Mark’s Gospel after this encounter is Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem for Palm Sunday. Bartimaeus hears that Jesus is coming through, and we get his first courageous act: he shouts, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!” What’s so courageous about that? It's a political declaration. It heralds Jesus as the Messiah, the heir to the throne of David. Even though he’s blind, Bartimaeus sees what others can’t, he sees with eyes that know God has arrived and God will act. The folks around him want him to hush up. “Stop saying things like that or you’re gonna get us all into a whole mess of trouble!” It’s an act of sedition. Rome don’t take too kindly to folks declaring that someone besides Caesar is in charge, after all. But he shouts again at the very top of his lungs, proclaiming Jesus’ sovereignty and asking for the most basic gift one person can give another: mercy.

There’s boldness in Bartimaeus – maybe Bold Bartimaeus suits him better, you still have the alliteration! Jesus hears him. Let that sink in for moment. Jesus hears the bold declarations of a blind beggar and tells the very folks who were trying to get him to shut up to bring him closer. Then Jesus asks one of my favorite questions, one he doesn’t ask anyone else: what do you want me to do for you? Hoo-boy! What do you do with that?! How would you answer that, or how would I? Peace in the Holy Land? An end to the patriarchy? A direct, pointed question that only Bartimaeus can answer.

An African icon of Bartimaeus being led to Jesus by the folks who told him to keep quiet.

He says, “Let me see again.” What’s interesting here is that the Greek better translates to “That I may receive sight.” So whether Bartimaeus has been physically blind from birth or not, we can’t really know, but we do know that Scripture always has multiple levels of meaning. Yes, he is asking to physically see, but his request is one that the very people who first received this Gospel prayed: let us see what is going on in the world around us and respond to it. Mark’s Gospel was written around the year 70, when the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed and Rome sacked the city, leaving believers in the God of Abraham bereft and lost. What do we do now? How can we see a path forward in the midst of such misery? “Let me see again,” Bartimaeus pleads, along with every lost and fearful person who first heard this story proclaimed in the town squares.

And here’s the best part. Jesus doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t speak a magic word like when he healed the mute person two chapters earlier. He doesn’t make mud from the dirt and spread it on Bartimaeus’ eyes like he does for another blind person in John, chapter 9. Jesus tells him that his faith has made him well, not any outward gesture from Jesus. His faith, his hope, his charity - another word for love -  of God is what gives Bartimaeus the courage to proclaim what he knows is true about Jesus, to step forward and plead his case before God, and receive healing, in every sense of that word.

Then, and perhaps this is most important, he follows Jesus. Our text says he followed him on “the way.” That’s a lower case ‘w,’ in case you were wondering, but we could just as easily make it uppercase; because the Way was, after all, what the Jesus Movement was originally called, and the folks we call Christians were first known as Followers of the Way. Bartimaeus doesn’t treat Jesus as a kind of cosmic vending machine to whom he makes a request, gets his prize, and then moves on. He is transformed by the encounter, made a new creation, and because of that he cannot help but follow this Way of Jesus, all the way to Jerusalem, to the cross and to resurrection. To think of him simply as Blind Bartimaeus, really doesn’t do him justice, does it?

Bold Bartimaeus knew he was more than just one thing. How about you, folks of the Advocate? What stirs you enough to make a scene like this blind beggar on the side of the road? What are your blind spots, and where do you need to have your sight restored? What could it be that your faith has already healed, you just don’t know it yet? As with Bartimaeus, a new path, a new road, has been opened at the Advocate, and we will walk it together. We too will boldly proclaim the sovereignty of Jesus above all others. We too will seek justice for those who have strikes thrown against them by systems of oppression and those who collaborate to maintain them. We will remind every person that it isn’t just one thing that defines them, and as we pray for our own faith, hope, and love to increase, we will put each of those qualities into action to be sure the world knows what Jesus himself proclaimed when we first began Mark’s Gospel almost a year ago: that the Kingdom of God has come near! He will be there, Jesus will, every step, asking us those same questions – like, “What do you want me to do for you?” – and together we will live into those questions as we follow him on the Way.