Wanting to See (Mark 10:46-52)

 Where I used to live—in Long Beach, California—at the side of a freeway offramp a few blocks from my house, right across the street from Home Depot… there was usually a homeless person, standing with a sign, asking for help. The spot they chose was right where all the drivers exiting the freeway had to stop and wait for the red light to turn green.

Most drivers did their best to ignore the person on the side of the road. Most drivers would pretend that person wasn’t there. They’d suddenly become very interested in something on their dashboard, or on the seat next to them—anything to avoid having to look at that homeless person, to see their face, to look into their eyes.

…And that’s exactly how I imagine things were for Bartimaeus.

In our Bible story today, Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, is sitting by the side of the road, waiting for someone to notice him. 

Most people make a point of not noticing him. Bartimaeus makes people uncomfortable: his eyes that are open but which do not see, staring at nothing.

But it isn’t just his blindness. In the first century, anyone who is blind, or deaf, or lame, or afflicted with any sort of incurable disease, makes people uncomfortable. 

Some wonder how it is that they are born with all their senses and abilities, while others are not. How easily it could have been them, and could still be them, if some accident or misfortune should befall them… They don’t like to think about that…

Others figure that any person so afflicted must have done something to anger God. That thought, at least, puts some distance between them and the person on the side of the road. It justifies their preference to pass by quickly, and turn their thoughts to something else.

Bartimaeus knows all this. He knows what people think. He knows that he makes them uncomfortable. He knows that they try to pass as quickly as they can. 

He can feel the vibrations of their footsteps, which quicken as they approach, then relax a bit once they have passed.

That’s OK. He doesn’t need everyone to stop by and notice him. But it would be nice if one or two would pause long enough to drop a coin in his cup before they hurried away.

On this day, he can hear a large crowd coming out from Jericho. As the crowd approaches, he can feel the vibrations of many feet coming from the ground. 

It’s harder for a large crowd to hurry by as it passes, because they’re all bunched together, and everyone has someone else in front of them, limiting how fast they can go. They’re all backed up… just like the cars at the red light on that freeway offramp.

Maybe that will help someone notice him, and put something in his cup. Maybe more than one “someone.”

But something else creates an even greater excitement in Bartimaeus. He hears people in the crowd mentioning the name: Jesus of Nazareth. Over and over, he hears that name, and Bartimaeus realizes:

Jesus is passing by! The one who has the power to heal! The one who has the power to restore broken people to wholeness!

If only he can get Jesus to notice him!

But how? Bartimaeus is sure that Jesus is surrounded by people, which will make it hard for Jesus to see anything or anyone beyond those traveling with him. 

And even if Jesus does see Bartimaeus, would Jesus acknowledge him? Or would he, like everyone else, ignore him, and just keep right on going?

Bartimaeus starts shouting: “Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!” (Say that with me!)

Some in the crowd try to silence Bartimaeus. “Hey, pipe down. Jesus has more important things to think about than you. He’s on his way to Jerusalem, to claim his glory, to claim his throne! So stop bothering him!”

But Bartimaeus yells even louder: “JESUS, SON OF DAVID!” (That’s a royal title, by the way. If Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, to claim his glory, to claim his throne, what better way to address him? On the other hand, it is dangerous to use a royal title when addressing anyone other than Caesar or one of the rulers under Caesar. That kind of talk can get one killed. Calling Jesus “Son of David” in such a public setting is risky!)

But Bartimaeus is not dissuaded. He yells again, at the top of his lungs: “JESUS! SON OF DAVID! HAVE MERCY ON ME!”

Jesus stops. The entire procession stops. Everything comes to a standstill. All the voices are silent. The ground is still, no longer vibrating from all the footsteps.

Bartimaeus tries to swallow, but his mouth has gone dry.

Jesus says, “Bring him here.”

Suddenly, Bartimaeus feels several sets of hands grabbing him, lifting him up; and several voices say to him: “Take heart! Get up! He’s calling YOU!”

Bartimaeus gets up and throws down his cloak. The cloak is a symbol of his status as a beggar; since Jesus has taken notice of him, Bartimaeus is certain he won’t be needing that anymore. That’s how strong his faith is.

 Guided by the crowd, he approaches Jesus. He hears Jesus say to him: “What do you want me to do for you?”

Upon hearing the question, Bartimaeus feels his knees go weak. He almost falls back to the ground. 

Never, in his life, has anyone taken such notice of him, in such a positive, sincere way, asking him what they could do for him. Most people didn’t care about him. Even the ones who put coins in his cup; they never asked him what he wanted, they never looked him in the eye. They all just wanted to get on with whatever more important thing they were doing.

Not Jesus. Jesus’ question is sincere. Jesus notices Bartimaeus. Jesus feels compassion for Bartimaeus. Jesus addresses Bartimaeus as a holy, beloved, child of God. And Jesus waits for Bartimaeus to answer.

Bartimaeus says, “Teacher! Let me see again!”

Jesus says to him, “Go; your faith has made you well. Your faith has healed you. Your faith has restored you to wholeness. Your faith has saved you.”

Instantly, Bartimaeus can see. 

And, having been noticed by Jesus, having experienced Jesus’ love and kindness and compassion, Bartimaeus then follows Jesus on the way; and that phrase—on the way—refers to the new life, the new way of living, that all those who worship Jesus are called to follow.

Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way.

—--------------------

When Jesus notices Bartimaeus, and stops to talk to Bartimaeus, and heals Bartimaeus, he doesn’t just give Bartimaeus the ability to see; he also gives Bartimaeus the ability to be seen. 

Many in the crowd that follows Jesus have never really seen Bartimaeus before. Even those who have passed by him before—even those who have passed by him many times, who perhaps see him on a daily basis—have never really seen him before. 

They always turn their faces away, passing by quickly on the other side of the road, doing all they can to not see Bartimaeus. They were blind to him… but now Jesus has opened their eyes, and now they see and notice Bartimaeus.

—---------------------------

Stories like this one are a challenge for me. Because I, like many others, am tempted to avert my gaze, to look away, and not notice those in need, especially when they appear before me when I’m not expecting it. I suppose if my attention were drawn to them only at times that were convenient for me, that would be OK. But that’s not how these things always happen. 

It is not convenient for Jesus to stop and notice Bartimaeus, to talk with Bartimaeus, to hear Bartimaeus’ request, and to respond. Jesus is, after all, on his way to Jerusalem, where he is about to have the most important week of his life—the most important week in the life of any human who ever lived. 

If anyone has a good reason to keep going, to not stop and notice some person on the side of the road, it’s Jesus. 

Yet Jesus does stop. Jesus does notice. Jesus does take the time to help Bartimaeus see, and to help the crowd see Bartimaeus.

So, as we follow Jesus in our lives, I think one of the most important things we can do—one of the most important things that God calls us to do—is to stop and notice those who are sitting on the side of the road.

Who are the ones sitting on the side of the road? Who is it that is ignored by society? 

Who is it that we try not to notice?

—---------

When I was a college student, attending Disciples-related Chapman University, I spent every Friday afternoon helping to prepare food to feed the homeless. I’d walk a couple of blocks from campus to the home of a woman in her late 80s named Mary McAnena, who, with help from volunteers, prepared hot meals every weekday in her house for the 100 or so homeless people who gathered in the park nearby.

To some, Mary was a hero, or a saint; to others, she was a nuisance.

It started one day when Mary McAnena was walking home from church. She saw a young woman sitting on the ground, eating pork and beans out of a can with her hands. 

I don’t know how I would have reacted. But Mary stopped and noticed that person, and offered her some food. And when Mary noticed others who were hungry and homeless, she began feeding them, too, and before long, she was fixing meals in her house every weekday, and transporting the food to the park a few blocks away to feed the growing crowd.

The city council, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to notice the homeless in their city. The council said that Mary was only encouraging them. They tried to get Mary to stop, but Mary refused.

Eventually a compromise was reached: instead of preparing the food in her home and taking it to the park, the city gave Mary space on city property in an industrial area a half mile away.

There, Mary’s kitchen, which was now developing into its own nonprofit organization, placed a mobile kitchen it had acquired, and continued feeding the homeless.

But the harassment from the city continued, even after Mary passed away at the age of 100. Mary’s Kitchen was eventually forced to shut down. The city again chose to ignore those sitting and begging on the side of the road.

But the volunteers running Mary’s Kitchen didn’t let that stop them. Two years ago they found a new location, a few miles away in the nearby city of Anaheim, just a few blocks from Disneyland. And the kitchen continues to operate today.

The story of Mary’s Kitchen, and the story of Bartimaeus, have a lot in common. Both stories involve noticing people who usually go unnoticed in society. Both involve people of faith going against the rest of society, and noticing those vulnerable persons on the side of the road. And both involve resistance from government leaders.

Because, remember, Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, the center of Roman and religious government. And in the story, Bartimaeus dares to call Jesus “Son of David,” a very political term. 

We cannot hear this story, and ignore the politics involved. 

And as Election Day gets closer, I cannot help but think about how the candidates we’re asked to vote for do—or do not—notice and give attention to the vulnerable people of our society; those who sit by the side of the road, who would like to join the procession, the march of society, but are unable to do so without assistance. 

Which of our potential leaders will help us as a society stop and notice those who need our attention? Which of our potential leaders will help us show compassion to them, and offer them restoration and healing? Which of our potential leaders will open our eyes to the needs of the people around us, removing our blindness, and helping us to see?

The Bible talks an awful lot about showing justice to the poor, and hospitality to immigrants, and compassion to all sorts of vulnerable people… Will we notice them? Will we allow Jesus to open our eyes, so that we truly see them?

Because only when our eyes are truly open, and we see and notice those around us, will we then be prepared to follow Jesus on the way.

To Sit in Christ's Glory (Mark 10:35-45)

 When this particular episode takes place, Jesus and his disciples are walking toward Jerusalem. Maybe I should have said that before I read the scripture to you, so you could picture them all, walking on the road, heading toward Jerusalem.

And maybe I should have also said that, by this point, Jesus had spoken to the disciples three times about what would happen to him in Jerusalem: how he would be arrested, mocked, tortured, and killed.

But even though he had told them these things three times, the disciples still didn’t understand. They still expected Jesus to be triumphant, which in their minds meant not death on a cross but a taking over of power, in victory, in glory.

I mean, just look at the determined way Jesus walks toward Jerusalem. There is no hesitation in his steps. He’s not flinching, as one would expect, if the only thing he had to look forward to was arrest and execution.

So, the disciples follow Jesus, confident in his victory, but unsure how, exactly, that victory will come about. After all, the armies of Rome are powerful. Unconquerable… The disciples follow Jesus, but they are a little more hesitant in their steps.

This is when James and John rush forward, alongside Jesus, and make their request, to sit at Jesus’ side, one on the right, and one on the left.

They don’t fully understand what they are asking, or what lies ahead for Jesus, even though he has talked about it repeatedly. Jesus even says to them, “You do not know what you are asking.”

Maybe they’re thinking that, by being at Jesus’ side, they will be protected from whatever dangers are coming, still not understanding that sticking close by Jesus’ side wouldn’t protect them, but would, in fact, lead to greater danger, since Jesus will be the one who suffers most of all.

They’re not imagining suffering or danger. They’re imagining Jesus, crowned in glory, sitting at the royal banquet table. 

They have been to many banquets with Jesus, but none as elegant as the one they imagine they will sit at once Jesus reigns in glory—a banquet table fit for a king.

And what’s true at every other banquet table would most certainly be true at a royal banquet table: that high importance would be placed upon those who sit to the left and to the right of the king.

These are the seats of highest honor. At any formal banquet, if you sit there, the servants will serve you first, and pay most attention to you. Your wine glass will never be empty. You will be treated like a king, because you are seated next to the king.

For this reason, a good host pays close attention to the seating arrangements. The host, or one of the host’s servants, tells the guests where to sit as they arrive. If not–if, perhaps, all the guests show up at once, or if the servant gets distracted with other tasks—then there might be a jostling for seats, as the guests all seek out the seat in the highest position that they think they could get away with.

That’s why, on another occasion, Jesus instructs his followers to not seek the higher seat, because if someone more important than you comes in, the host or one of his servants would tell you to move down, and that would be embarrassing. Imagine walking into a banquet room, taking a higher seat, because you felt entitled to it, and then being told to move down!

But if you took the lower seat, then perhaps the host would say to you, “move up closer,” and you would be honored.

That’s why Jesus said to seek the lower seat. But that’s hard advice to follow; who wants to take the lowest seat?

It would be like taking a seat in the first class section of the airplane, and then having the flight attendant come by and say loud enough for other passengers to hear: “Sir/Ma’am, you don’t belong here. Please move to the back where you belong.”

Much better to sit in the back, and then have the flight attendant come and say, “We have room up front, we’d like to upgrade you at no charge. Follow me…”

James and John haven’t quite gotten that message. They haven’t yet learned that lesson.

Maybe it was because they grew up in a fairly well-to-do household. Their father, Zebedee, had a fishing business with not one, but two boats. Not many people could afford two boats. And their family had their own servants. 

James and John were used to being served. It was hard for them to let go of that.

Notice the first thing they say to Jesus: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” 

They want Jesus to do for them whatever they ask? Who makes such a request? 

People who grew up with servants serving them, that’s who.

Jesus says, “What is it you want?” 

And they say, “Let us sit right beside you. One at your right, and one at your left, in your glory.”

And that’s when Jesus says: “You don’t know what you are asking. You still don’t understand exactly how it is that I am to be glorified, that my glory will come about through suffering and death. Are you able to endure what I am about to endure?”

“Yes!” they say. “We are able!”

Jesus looks at them and says, “Hmmmm. You will endure much of what I am about to endure; but to sit at my right or at my left is not up to me.”

James and John have a hard time understanding Jesus, and what he’s talking about, and what the future holds for him and for those who follow him, in part because they grew up with privilege. Boats. Servants. Security. All this created a sense of entitlement. 

James and John felt that they were entitled to those seats of honor, to be glorified next to Christ. They didn’t understand that Christ’s glory would come through suffering or death, or that to be seated at Christ’s side would be to share in his suffering, to share in his sacrifice.

Glory comes through suffering. Glory comes through sacrifice. Glory comes through servanthood. 

James and John, and the other disciples, have a hard time understanding this, because this understanding of glory and honor was unique to Jesus, and at odds with everything they knew about how the world works.

Many of us have a hard time, too, understanding these things; understanding how the way of Jesus is so at odds with everything we know about how the world works.

Among the many stories in the gospels of banquets and dinners, perhaps the greatest, most elaborate banquet we read about is the lavish feast hosted by Herod on the occasion of his birthday. At that banquet, no expense is spared. There wasn’t a finer, more luxurious table in all of Judea. 

And yet, that banquet, if you know the story, ends in death. It ends in tragedy. It ends in stunned silence.

And then, right after that, there is a description of another banquet. 

This other banquet doesn’t take place in a fancy banquet hall. In fact, it doesn’t take place in a building at all, but out in a deserted wilderness, away from buildings, where thousands of people gathered, and had only the ground to sit on.

At this banquet, there is no food, for no one had brought any, except for a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish. 

This really isn’t much of a banquet at all, by the world’s standards.

And yet, miraculously, at this banquet, everyone is fed, everyone is satisfied, and this banquet, which started with almost nothing, ends with joy and life.

And at this banquet, the disciples are the ones who serve. They are the ones who distribute the bread to the people.

Well, that’s nice and all, but they still haven’t let go of their desire to be the ones being served, the ones sitting in those seats of honor, reveling in the glory that is a worldly glory, the glory of kings and queens and emperors and pharaohs.

They haven’t yet learned to let go of that entitlement, and to embrace a life of servant leadership.

Which is why James and John make their request…

And why they all argue about who gets to sit in those seats of honor.

It’s hard to give up that sense of entitlement, to embrace the status of a servant, to willingly accept the lower position or lower status, even if that is, as Christ says, the path to true greatness. Whoever wishes to become great must become a servant. That lesson is as hard for me as it was for the disciples. I find it just as hard to give up my sense of entitlement. I want to keep my privilege.

Do you know that I have never been pulled over by a police officer? Not once. And I’d like to think that’s because of my impeccable driving skills, but I know that’s not the only reason. Here in Illinois, according to a study done in 2021, Black drivers are 1.7 times more likely to be pulled over by police than white drivers; the numbers are similar for other states.

And I’ve noticed that, in a lot of situations, people do give me the benefit of the doubt. If it’s my word against someone else’s, I’m more likely to be believed, because of my age, my race, and my gender. 

That’s my entitlement, my privilege.

I haven’t traveled a whole lot in my life, but when I have, I’ve been able to do so freely, without harassment. Passing through customs is a piece of cake. A U.S. Passport is a great thing to have.

When Ginger and I got married, 31 years ago, we didn’t have to worry about a baker refusing to bake our cake. We didn’t have to worry about the state, or the church, refusing to recognize our marriage. We were a man and a woman, entering into a heterosexual marriage, something that gets you a higher seat in society than it would have otherwise… just like being white, or male, or a U.S. citizen, gets you a higher seat.

But in God’s kingdom, none of that matters.

In God’s kingdom, we are told to give up our sense of entitlement, to become a servant to others, humbling ourselves, taking the lower seat.

To sit in glory in the kingdom of God requires humility, service, and sacrifice, and may even lead to suffering and shame.

Those without privilege, who sit in the lower seats, are closer to the kingdom of God than those with privilege.

Sitting in glory in the kingdom of God is not like sitting in glory in the kingdoms of this world. In the kingdom of God, the first will be last and the last will be first. In the kingdom of God, those who are down low will be lifted up, and all those who tower over everyone else like mighty mountains will be brought down.

Letting go of our sense of entitlement, humbling ourselves, and serving others is one way we can show kindness to our neighbors. An important way. And every day we have a million opportunities to practice this. 

Most of the time, it doesn’t even take very much effort to show kindness and be a servant to someone else. Most days, it’s just a small sacrifice that is required. As Mother Teresa said: “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”

Now, there may come a day when we are called upon to make a greater sacrifice, but if we haven’t practiced by making small sacrifices, by setting aside our privilege, and by serving those around us in small and simple ways, then we won’t be prepared. It’s those simple, everyday ways of serving others that help us get ready for all that God calls us to do.