Journey's Weekly Homilies

30^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B,
26 October 2003
homily by Joe 

Jeremiah 31:8-9
Hebrews 5:1-6
Mark 10:46-52 

In the law of Moses, the blind are among those who are to be accorded protection in the name of God. Leviticus admonishes us not to “curse the deaf or put a stumbling block in front of the blind.” In Deuteronomy those who lead the blind astray along the road are placed under the same curse as those who withhold justice from the alien, the orphan or the widowed. Psalm 146 proclaims that God gives sight to the blind, lifts up those who are bowed down and loves the righteous. Luke’s gospel includes the blind with the preferred guests at a dinner party, and of course they are numbered among those who will inherit the restored kingdom of Israel in the reading we heard from Jeremiah.

But even as those without the power of sight are to be cared for and not victimized, it is clear that they are also less than first-class citizens. In a time in which illness or deformity was a clear sign of divine disfavor, those who were blind, especially from birth, would have been objects not only of pity, but of fear and superstition. The entire 9^th chapter of John’s gospel is an argument about the nature of a man born blind whom Jesus heals. The discussion - starting with the question  “whose sin was responsible for his condition?” – reflects the all-too-common attitude of a “normal” populace toward the disadvantaged in their midst.

And so in that same law of Moses even blind animals are unfit subjects for sacrifice. And blindness disqualifies anyone from offering sacrifice on behalf of the community. We read, again, in the book of Leviticus: “No man who has any defect may come near: no man who is blind or lame, disfigured or deformed; no man with a crippled foot or hand, or who is hunchbacked or dwarfed, or who has any eye defect, or who has festering or running sores or damaged testicles.” This last one, by the way, even found its way into Catholic canon law as an impediment to ordination to the priesthood. I know - go figure. It’s like people who live in cities buying four-wheel-drive sport utility vehicles. Apparently the thought behind this is: “I may never, ever, drive off-road – but I could.”

But I digress. I’ve described two biblical attitudes toward the blind, and both are operative in tonight’s gospel story. First, there’s the crowd surrounding Jesus as he sets out from Jericho: they first discourage Bartimaeus from crying out and then hasten him to Jesus when the rabbi expresses an interest. Jesus, as a faith healer proclaiming the reign of God, is certainly going to do something for him (we can be pretty sure of this because he’s already restored sight to a blind person in the eighth chapter of Mark’s gospel, a story our lectionary omits).

But, the gospel being the gospel, there’s more than this going on. Our first clue is that Bartimaeus is identified by name. This is rare not only for Mark – Peter’s mother-in-law is just Peter’s mother-in-law, Jairus’ daughter is Jairus’ daughter – but for the other evangelists as well. Matthew tells this same story on the road from Jericho, but with two blind men, and unnamed ones at that. It’s tempting to speculate that Bartimeas himself or one of his descendants was a central figure in the community which produced Mark’s gospel. But I think there’s a different reason for Mark giving this blind beggar a name.

Some commentators suggest that Bartimaeus’ name means “son of the unclean” in Hebrew. This may seem rather harsh, but consider the context. This entire episode is the follow-up to the story we shared last week. Remember that James and John come to Jesus and ask to be enthroned with him when he comes into his glory. That lesson is self-contained: the disciples, especially these “sons of Zebedee,” are to serve and not to be served. But tonight Mark amplifies the teaching when the “son of Timaeus” approaches Jesus. Jesus asks him exactly what he asked James and John: “what do you want me to do for you?”

In contrast to James and John, who were, after all, among the first disciples Jesus called and the ones he chose, with Peter, to witness his transfiguration, it’s this unclean one who knows what to ask for.  Bartimaeus wants to see not so he can admire a sunset or gaze into the Hollywood blue eyes of his healer, but so that he won’t have to beg for a living and can be useful. His desire is not for honors, but for honorable work. He’s not looking to be set apart by being exalted but to have his isolation ended. This is the last of the healing stories in the gospel, and in many ways it sums up the entire healing ministry of Jesus. Bartimaeus represents not only everyone Jesus has healed, but everyone he has called.

Mark’s gospel is full of people who refuse to behave in the way that society, or even common sense, says that they should.  A leper, who is required to warn people away, walks right up to Jesus. A woman with a hemorrhage, who’s supposed to confine herself at home, goes out in public to touch a faith healer’s garment. And tonight there’s a blind man who jumps to his feet and throws aside the only security he has. Blind people, as one of our songs reminds us, don’t do a whole lot of jumping – they grope along the wall, uncertain. And in Jesus’ day beggars customarily spread their cloaks in front of them to receive alms.  At Jesus’ call, Bartimaeus abandons the security both of immobility and of his livelihood, such as it is.

All of these people have already begun to act like the people they want to be. Surely this is at least a part of what Jesus means when he says “your faith has made you well.” And in his willingness to interact with them he also says, in so many words, “so what?” “So what if you’re a leper – I’ll touch you. So what if you’re bleeding – I’ll talk to you. So what if you’re blind – follow me.” Even after a miraculous healing, someone who had been blind would be a source of uneasiness or amazement among the disciples. And that’s understandable – even today we can only rarely cure blindness. In John’s gospel opening the eyes of the blind is Jesus’ greatest claim to fame until he raises Lazarus. And to whatever distraction Bartimaeus might cause among his followers, Jesus also says “so what?”

This past spring the people of the Episcopal church in New Hampshire said the same thing to Gene Robinson when they elected him as their bishop. “So what if you’re gay, so what if you’re not celibate, we’ve come to know, admire and love you as so much more than that.”  So, like Bartimaeus after Jesus, empowerment and acceptance can overcome fear and judgment and potential may have a shot at fulfillment. In other words, I’m not going to run for bishop of New Hampshire, but I could.

The letter to the Hebrews speaks to the importance of lived experience to those who would serve the reign of God. Learning from suffering is not just a melodramatic conceit. Being feared, rejected, or mistrusted can make you bitter, but it can also teach you how not to treat others as badly. More importantly, it can teach you not to judge but to be open to others. All of our homilists bring this “outsider” status to their mediations on and interpretations of scripture – none of us would ever be permitted to do this in a mainstream Catholic church – and our community’s life is the richer for it.  

A few years ago a young man jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge after leaving behind a note in his apartment. It read: “I am going to walk to the bridge today. If one person smiles at me, I won’t jump.” You know as well as I do that many of the people he passed that day, if they had known what the stakes were, would readily have smiled at him. But we don’t always know, or care to.

No matter how good or noble our intentions, or how great our willingness to help, if we don’t smile or speak or reach out, then the people who need us might as well be blind, deaf or autistic. If we encounter others with an attitude of distrust they may never be able to make their needs – even the simplest ones - known.  James and John got way ahead of themselves last week. Jesus is looking at the big picture too – that’s why he’s on his way to Jerusalem after all – but he knows there are more immediate concerns all around him. So he stops to lift up and ennoble a blind beggar, saying, in effect, to him and to us: “follow me.”