Sometimes miracles come in the ways we least expect them. . .
Here’s another one of those Gospels that tempts the reader to run for the cure; it tempts us to get to the real bottom line, thus robbing the reader of the beauty and richness of metaphor that so powerfully points to the unique tenderness of Jesus’ love.
So, let’s slow down and go back and look at some of the details in this week’s appointed Gospel that are so easy to overlook.
First, we are told that Jesus and the disciples are passing through Jericho. This is the normal route one would follow from Galilee in the north to Jerusalem in the south. This is the road that thousands of pilgrims would take during the great religious festivals. In this case, the pilgrims are on their way for the Feast of all Feasts: the Passover.
Such pilgrimages were from beginning-to-end joyous occasions full of singing and good conversation. For these pilgrims, this two-day journey to the Holy City would have been more important to them than anything else. Nothing should interrupt the rhythm of the walk-dance toward the Holy. Nothing should invade their moment of rejoicing. Nothing should disturb their personal or their collective spiritual ecstasy, especially not some pan-handling blind man sitting at the side of the road!
Most people would been so caught up in the bliss of the moment that nothing could have slowed them down, but we’re not talking about most people here, we are talking about Jesus, and when Bartimaeus called out to him. . . HE STOPPED!
In a very real sense, this is the unexpected miracle in this Gospel. This Jesus whom we proclaim to be the Son of God, the Christ, stopped the entire movement forward for one blind pauper; he bothered to stop for one of those, you know, takers in society.
There is a Peanuts cartoon where Linus announces that he is going to be a doctor when he grows up. Lucy scoffs at this:
You Linus? Don’t be ridiculous! You could never be a doctor, Linus, you don’t love humanity.
But I do! I do! says Linus. I do love humanity. . . it’s people I can’t stand.
In a first century, peasant society, where the average life expectancy was a little under thirty years, where even the fortunate ones were barely able to sustain life, this blind man was not just impoverished, he literally had to beg for his existence hour by hour.
When Jesus stopped that day, he showed us that God doesn’t just love humanity; he illustrated how God loves to love specific persons, and that no specific person is insignificant in the eyes of God.
We hear a lot about the safety net for the poor these days. When people fall off the high wire of life, there’s some net down there that will catch them. We don’t have to lift a hand or even worry about them. It’ll just happen.
Well, God stops to help each person and lifts a hand in order to help them into God’s safety net, and God knows them all by name.
Bartimaeus dared to believe something that is difficult for many to believe, namely, that he matters so much in the eyes of God, that God will stop to be with him, that he counts as much as anyone else on the pilgrimage of life toward the Holy.
Now the people along that road who were following Jesus to Jerusalem urged Bartimaeus to believe otherwise:
Shut up beggar! Can’t you see that there are more important things going on here than you?
There are always people out there who will try to convince us that some people are less significant in the eyes of God than others. When we hear those voices, we need, like Bartimaeus, to shout all the louder. Jesus will stop. . . God will be with us!
You see, what Mark does so creatively here in our Gospel is to show us who the blind ones really are. They are the ones who think that God plays favorites. They are the ones that believe that God hangs out with those in the upper social tier and discriminates when it comes to loving particular persons.
Bartimaeus called out . . . Jesus stopped! I suspect that Passover then was a lot like Christmas is in our time; I suspect that people were moved by the season to give more readily to those less fortunate than themselves.
Bartimaeus most likely knew this, and therefore knew that this may be his best opportunity to insure his existence for a few more weeks. So, he takes off his outer cloak and lays it in his lap to collect any coins that might be tossed his way. I sort of imagine people throwing money into his cloak much as we deposit money into those little red pots that are guarded by the bell ringing Salvation Army every December.
Now here is another miracle in this story. Bartimaeus, when he jumps up to go to this Jesus who has stopped for him, THROWS OFF HIS CLOAK!
In the first Century, a man normally wore two cloaks. The inner cloak was much like an undershirt, and the outer cloak provided protection from cold in the winter and the scorching sun in the summer. This outer cloak was most likely the only significant possession that Bartimaeus owned. It was as important to him, as shelter is to us, and those coins represented his only means of sustenance for the days ahead.
In addition, we mustn’t forget, Bartimaeus is still blind at this point. He can’t go back and search for his cloak or the meager collection of coins that are now spread about the side of the road.
What was the love of God worth to Bartimaeus?
Literally and absolutely EVERYTHING! He threw off everything he owned just to be with Jesus.
So, as we consider our giving to the church, the only question worth asking is what are the love and blessings of God worth? And then respond.
Jesus continues his final journey toward Jerusalem and on to the cross where he too will throw off everything for the love of God.
But now a new voice joins in the singing, a new pair of feet make imprints in the dirt of the desert road, the voice of one who is only one cloak away from total nakedness, the footprints of a man who responded to the love of God by following that vision of love no matter where it might lead, Bartimaeus, the man who met the God who stopped for him.
Leave a Reply