I don’t recall if I’ve shared with you a little story told by a psychiatrist named Isaac Herschkopf. He
gives an account of a visit to a mentally troubled teenager. He writes: Being asked to perform a
psychiatric consultation on a hospitalized adolescent is rarely pleasant. Fortunately, this teenager
seemed placed as I approached his bed. His mother was seated nearby immersed in her knitting. I
walked over and introduced myself to him. He looked right through me and started screaming,
“I can’t see! I can’t see!”
I’d never before seen such a dramatic example of hysterical blindness. I tried not to betray my
concern as I casually asked his mother, “How long has this been going on?” She never even looked
up as she replied, “Ever since you stepped in front of his television.”
There are different kinds of blindness, I guess. Some people’s eyes are blind, and others’ blindness
has to do with the state of their minds and their hearts. The phenomenon of blindness is repeatedly
interwoven with the Gospel message. Jesus accused the Pharisees of being blind guides. In the
great hymn Amazing Grace John Newton echoed the words of the blind man healed by Jesus at the
Pool of Siloam: “I once was blind, but now I see.”
We know instinctively that light brings safety and comfort. It’s the very thing that promotes and
sustains life. When we’re in darkness, either literal or symbolic, we’re deeply troubled, and we reach
out to find the light that will bring us peace. Many in this room have had a life-changing encounter
with Jesus. Others became more gradually aware of how His saving presence has brought peace
and reassurance. Can you remember what life was like for you before that?
Well, it’s here that we face one of the struggles of our time. Because our world has changed, even
in many of our lifetimes. Since “question authority” became the cultural mantra and, for better or
worse, we as a culture decided to reject many of the values and practices of our forebears, many
have turned away from Jesus in their spiritual quest. Others have decided to recreate Jesus in an
image more palatable to themselves.
As I’ve shared before, I did this myself for a number of years before my own personal encounter with
Jesus. And as I’ve also shared, there’s a plethora of belief options out there. They seem to come
and go faddishly. Many offer dramatic spiritual experiences. Transcendental Meditation was big a
few years back, as were organizations like EST and Scientology. There’s a renewed interest in the
old Gnostic heresy and its claim that is has secret knowledge passed to the disciples by Jesus and
entrusted to an elite few down through the ages.
And one of the more recent celebrity spiritual fads has been The Kabbalah, which is kind of a
mystical, Jewish counterpart to Gnosticism. The Kabbalah Center’s website offers “the long-hidden
keys to the secrets of the universe and the human heart,” and promises to give you happiness and
wisdom. (They also offer for sale some gizmos to protect you from the Evil Eye and such things.
One-stop shopping.)
I’m fascinated by the fact that, when you call something “secret,” It really kindles our interest. There
seems to be something in us that wants to be in the know, part of some spiritual elite who possess
the secret knowledge that will propel us upward into the light. We spiritual seekers find that
prospect very enticing. But have you ever noticed that so many of these practices and fads,
whatever their virtues or purported virtues, seem to come and go? When one doesn’t deliver the
goods, we’re on to the next one. In one of their early songs the band U2 expressed this reality well
with their wistful refrain, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”
Now here’s where I really can’t avoid saying something that Christians have believed from the
outset. And that is that God himself placed that desire within us. It’s the marrow-deep intuition that
we were made for God and need Him in our lives. But that connection we desire so much has gone
amiss. It’s like we’ve shuttered the windows from the inside, and in the darkness, now we can’t even
find them. So we grope around in blindness, seeking that reconnection with the One who made us.
We find a small crack here and a light-leak there, but the window to the light remains elusive.
Now some may feel a little uneasy at where I’m going with this. I think that’s part of the new cultural
training as well. It’s not considered polite to suggest that there’s one particular way to God. And
unfortunately some people have used that information as a bludgeon rather than an invitation. But
the New Testament writings consistently frame the situation this way. They say that there was one
individual who came to this earth to solve the universal dilemma of blindness once and for all. They
say overtly that this man was the Jewish Messiah and the only begotten Son of God, who came for
both Jew and Gentile; one like absolutely no other in history, and like no other who will ever appear
in heaven or on earth. This one-time-only appearance of God in human flesh is now the key to the
human spiritual quest. for he claimed not only to know the way to the light, but that he himself is the
Light.
And that’s what brings us to Mark’s Gospel. A blind beggar by the name of Bartimaeus is sitting by
the roadside on the outskirts of Jericho. It’s clear from the text that he once had the gift of sight, but
has lost that gift. Day after miserable day, year after year, he has sat in the relentless sun in quiet
desperation, with his alms bowl, begging a meager and empty living. It would be a vast
understatement to say that he wants more out of life than this. I can’t imagine anyone having a
clearer idea of the urgency of his need than Bartimaeus. And word has reached his ears about this
wandering teacher named Jesus of Nazareth, and his eyes may be blind, but his soul is not. Unlike
the well-educated scribes and Pharisees something in this simple blind man knows that this
encounter with Jesus is his first, last, and only hope for healing.
So he blurts out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” But this tattered and dirty man is an
embarrassment to those around him, and they sharply tell him to be quiet. Yet Bartimaeus won’t be
denied. He cries out again, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stops in his tracks. He hears
the desperation in the blind man’s voice and like so many other times, love and mercy stir within him,
and he tells someone in the crowd to call him forward. Bartimaeus throws off his cloak, jumps up
and tenaciously stumbles his way to Jesus. When Jesus asks him what he would like him to do for
him, Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, my rabbi, let me see again.”
There’s something in this man’s demeanor that shouts out to us. Despite the scowling and growling
of the people on the road, he insists on being heard. He knows deep in his heart where real hope is,
and he won’t be dismissed. He refuses to despair. The question is, do we have the same
determination? Do we persist in prayer when we need healing or relief, like we’re encouraged to do
throughout scripture? Do we persist in our prayer even for the daily faith that sustains us? Or do
we test the Lord once and, because we aren’t immediately given some dramatic experience, walk
away in bitter disbelief?
My friends, please remember that the Jesus whose destiny intersected with that of Bartimaeus is the
same Jesus who said, “Keep seeking and you will find; keep knocking and the door will be opened to
you.” Like Bartimaeus, we can’t see Jesus with our physical eyes. But we have the comforting
record of those who were eyewitnesses to His glory, and we have the testimonies of countless
believers whose lives have been transformed by the one who came down from heaven to heal and
save us. Our ears have heard the story from reliable sources.
Whether we’re meeting Jesus for the first time or have lived a long time as Christians, I pray that
each of us would strive for a faith in the Unseen One that is both persistent and unshakable. J. C.
Ryle writes, “What is the first step of a Christian, but a crying, like Bartimaeus, ‘Jesus have mercy on
me?’ And what is the daily course of a Christian, but keeping up the same spirit of faith?” Jesus
honors our faith. In fact he delights in it. Just as he honored and delighted in the faith of Bartimaeus,
when his kind voice said simply, “Go; your faith has made you well.”
As we’ve had a number of occasions to say, koine Greek is a very nuanced language. The word
translated here as “made you well” actually has a couple of possible meanings. The word is from the
Greek verb sodzo, which usually means “to save.” It can also mean “to heal,” but the word
therapeuo is more often used to describe healing. Do you hear the significance of that? I think it’s
fair to say that Jesus is telling Bartimaeus both “you’re healed” and “you’re saved.” In response to
this man’s faith, Jesus has lavished on him both physical healing and spiritual salvation. He’s
repaired and redeemed.
Now it needs to be said that, sometimes, the Lord has different plans and purposes for physical
suffering. Sometimes He chooses not to heal a malady, at least in the way we expect or prefer. In
fact that malady may even lead to death, which of course, in this mortal existence is inevitable for all
of us. Physical suffering and death may be used by God for purposes we don’t readily see, and
may not know until we see him face to face. But every one of us is given the assurance nonetheless
of ultimate healing and salvation in the fullness of God’s kingdom.
Do you have faith in this assurance from God? Whatever blessing God has for you, whether in the
short or long term, it’s faith that opens the door to its fulfillment. If you have any Bible software or a
concordance, do a word search in the Gospels some time for the word “faith.” You’ll see that, over
and over again, Jesus responds to people’s faith in Him by healing and performing miracles. “Your
faith has made you well.” And conversely, he chides people for not exercising faith.
So what is faith? I can think of no simpler description than to say that faith is when we reach out to
the Lord with childlike trust, just as all of us who are parents want our own children to do, at least
when we’re at our best. Think of the feeling you get when they do. You parents, think of when your
little ones were learning to walk and they looked at you with those trusting eyes and reached out for
you. They trusted in your goodness and reliability. There’s a warmth and bonding that happens
that has to be experienced to be understood. I hope it’s not too much of a projection to ascribe the
same kind of feelings to the Lord himself, who, in response to our determined faith, draws us into a
deeper and warmer relationship with Him. He wants this relationship with you. He craves it. He
wants you to trust Him and His goodness.
Are you searching for a deeper level of meaning to your existence? Are you perhaps living in quiet
desperation as you carry some unspoken burden or pain? Are you anxious in some way about the
future? Do you have an insatiable hunger in your soul for that something that you can’t even
identify? If so, there’s very good news for you. The One whom God the Father sent to this earth to
draw His people back to himself, the One who healed the sick, raised the dead, made the lame to
walk, gave sight to the blind, and offered up His own life to save us from death, is within reach of
your voice right now.
Like Bartimaeus, we may not see Him, but His ear is tuned to our determined cry. He’s waiting for us
to speak our need to Him, and He’s promised final healing, salvation and peace to all who call on His
name. And His name is Jesus! May we with the diligence of Bartimaeus pursue the abundant
blessings He promises to us as we reach out to Him in faith. Amen.
gives an account of a visit to a mentally troubled teenager. He writes: Being asked to perform a
psychiatric consultation on a hospitalized adolescent is rarely pleasant. Fortunately, this teenager
seemed placed as I approached his bed. His mother was seated nearby immersed in her knitting. I
walked over and introduced myself to him. He looked right through me and started screaming,
“I can’t see! I can’t see!”
I’d never before seen such a dramatic example of hysterical blindness. I tried not to betray my
concern as I casually asked his mother, “How long has this been going on?” She never even looked
up as she replied, “Ever since you stepped in front of his television.”
There are different kinds of blindness, I guess. Some people’s eyes are blind, and others’ blindness
has to do with the state of their minds and their hearts. The phenomenon of blindness is repeatedly
interwoven with the Gospel message. Jesus accused the Pharisees of being blind guides. In the
great hymn Amazing Grace John Newton echoed the words of the blind man healed by Jesus at the
Pool of Siloam: “I once was blind, but now I see.”
We know instinctively that light brings safety and comfort. It’s the very thing that promotes and
sustains life. When we’re in darkness, either literal or symbolic, we’re deeply troubled, and we reach
out to find the light that will bring us peace. Many in this room have had a life-changing encounter
with Jesus. Others became more gradually aware of how His saving presence has brought peace
and reassurance. Can you remember what life was like for you before that?
Well, it’s here that we face one of the struggles of our time. Because our world has changed, even
in many of our lifetimes. Since “question authority” became the cultural mantra and, for better or
worse, we as a culture decided to reject many of the values and practices of our forebears, many
have turned away from Jesus in their spiritual quest. Others have decided to recreate Jesus in an
image more palatable to themselves.
As I’ve shared before, I did this myself for a number of years before my own personal encounter with
Jesus. And as I’ve also shared, there’s a plethora of belief options out there. They seem to come
and go faddishly. Many offer dramatic spiritual experiences. Transcendental Meditation was big a
few years back, as were organizations like EST and Scientology. There’s a renewed interest in the
old Gnostic heresy and its claim that is has secret knowledge passed to the disciples by Jesus and
entrusted to an elite few down through the ages.
And one of the more recent celebrity spiritual fads has been The Kabbalah, which is kind of a
mystical, Jewish counterpart to Gnosticism. The Kabbalah Center’s website offers “the long-hidden
keys to the secrets of the universe and the human heart,” and promises to give you happiness and
wisdom. (They also offer for sale some gizmos to protect you from the Evil Eye and such things.
One-stop shopping.)
I’m fascinated by the fact that, when you call something “secret,” It really kindles our interest. There
seems to be something in us that wants to be in the know, part of some spiritual elite who possess
the secret knowledge that will propel us upward into the light. We spiritual seekers find that
prospect very enticing. But have you ever noticed that so many of these practices and fads,
whatever their virtues or purported virtues, seem to come and go? When one doesn’t deliver the
goods, we’re on to the next one. In one of their early songs the band U2 expressed this reality well
with their wistful refrain, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”
Now here’s where I really can’t avoid saying something that Christians have believed from the
outset. And that is that God himself placed that desire within us. It’s the marrow-deep intuition that
we were made for God and need Him in our lives. But that connection we desire so much has gone
amiss. It’s like we’ve shuttered the windows from the inside, and in the darkness, now we can’t even
find them. So we grope around in blindness, seeking that reconnection with the One who made us.
We find a small crack here and a light-leak there, but the window to the light remains elusive.
Now some may feel a little uneasy at where I’m going with this. I think that’s part of the new cultural
training as well. It’s not considered polite to suggest that there’s one particular way to God. And
unfortunately some people have used that information as a bludgeon rather than an invitation. But
the New Testament writings consistently frame the situation this way. They say that there was one
individual who came to this earth to solve the universal dilemma of blindness once and for all. They
say overtly that this man was the Jewish Messiah and the only begotten Son of God, who came for
both Jew and Gentile; one like absolutely no other in history, and like no other who will ever appear
in heaven or on earth. This one-time-only appearance of God in human flesh is now the key to the
human spiritual quest. for he claimed not only to know the way to the light, but that he himself is the
Light.
And that’s what brings us to Mark’s Gospel. A blind beggar by the name of Bartimaeus is sitting by
the roadside on the outskirts of Jericho. It’s clear from the text that he once had the gift of sight, but
has lost that gift. Day after miserable day, year after year, he has sat in the relentless sun in quiet
desperation, with his alms bowl, begging a meager and empty living. It would be a vast
understatement to say that he wants more out of life than this. I can’t imagine anyone having a
clearer idea of the urgency of his need than Bartimaeus. And word has reached his ears about this
wandering teacher named Jesus of Nazareth, and his eyes may be blind, but his soul is not. Unlike
the well-educated scribes and Pharisees something in this simple blind man knows that this
encounter with Jesus is his first, last, and only hope for healing.
So he blurts out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” But this tattered and dirty man is an
embarrassment to those around him, and they sharply tell him to be quiet. Yet Bartimaeus won’t be
denied. He cries out again, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stops in his tracks. He hears
the desperation in the blind man’s voice and like so many other times, love and mercy stir within him,
and he tells someone in the crowd to call him forward. Bartimaeus throws off his cloak, jumps up
and tenaciously stumbles his way to Jesus. When Jesus asks him what he would like him to do for
him, Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, my rabbi, let me see again.”
There’s something in this man’s demeanor that shouts out to us. Despite the scowling and growling
of the people on the road, he insists on being heard. He knows deep in his heart where real hope is,
and he won’t be dismissed. He refuses to despair. The question is, do we have the same
determination? Do we persist in prayer when we need healing or relief, like we’re encouraged to do
throughout scripture? Do we persist in our prayer even for the daily faith that sustains us? Or do
we test the Lord once and, because we aren’t immediately given some dramatic experience, walk
away in bitter disbelief?
My friends, please remember that the Jesus whose destiny intersected with that of Bartimaeus is the
same Jesus who said, “Keep seeking and you will find; keep knocking and the door will be opened to
you.” Like Bartimaeus, we can’t see Jesus with our physical eyes. But we have the comforting
record of those who were eyewitnesses to His glory, and we have the testimonies of countless
believers whose lives have been transformed by the one who came down from heaven to heal and
save us. Our ears have heard the story from reliable sources.
Whether we’re meeting Jesus for the first time or have lived a long time as Christians, I pray that
each of us would strive for a faith in the Unseen One that is both persistent and unshakable. J. C.
Ryle writes, “What is the first step of a Christian, but a crying, like Bartimaeus, ‘Jesus have mercy on
me?’ And what is the daily course of a Christian, but keeping up the same spirit of faith?” Jesus
honors our faith. In fact he delights in it. Just as he honored and delighted in the faith of Bartimaeus,
when his kind voice said simply, “Go; your faith has made you well.”
As we’ve had a number of occasions to say, koine Greek is a very nuanced language. The word
translated here as “made you well” actually has a couple of possible meanings. The word is from the
Greek verb sodzo, which usually means “to save.” It can also mean “to heal,” but the word
therapeuo is more often used to describe healing. Do you hear the significance of that? I think it’s
fair to say that Jesus is telling Bartimaeus both “you’re healed” and “you’re saved.” In response to
this man’s faith, Jesus has lavished on him both physical healing and spiritual salvation. He’s
repaired and redeemed.
Now it needs to be said that, sometimes, the Lord has different plans and purposes for physical
suffering. Sometimes He chooses not to heal a malady, at least in the way we expect or prefer. In
fact that malady may even lead to death, which of course, in this mortal existence is inevitable for all
of us. Physical suffering and death may be used by God for purposes we don’t readily see, and
may not know until we see him face to face. But every one of us is given the assurance nonetheless
of ultimate healing and salvation in the fullness of God’s kingdom.
Do you have faith in this assurance from God? Whatever blessing God has for you, whether in the
short or long term, it’s faith that opens the door to its fulfillment. If you have any Bible software or a
concordance, do a word search in the Gospels some time for the word “faith.” You’ll see that, over
and over again, Jesus responds to people’s faith in Him by healing and performing miracles. “Your
faith has made you well.” And conversely, he chides people for not exercising faith.
So what is faith? I can think of no simpler description than to say that faith is when we reach out to
the Lord with childlike trust, just as all of us who are parents want our own children to do, at least
when we’re at our best. Think of the feeling you get when they do. You parents, think of when your
little ones were learning to walk and they looked at you with those trusting eyes and reached out for
you. They trusted in your goodness and reliability. There’s a warmth and bonding that happens
that has to be experienced to be understood. I hope it’s not too much of a projection to ascribe the
same kind of feelings to the Lord himself, who, in response to our determined faith, draws us into a
deeper and warmer relationship with Him. He wants this relationship with you. He craves it. He
wants you to trust Him and His goodness.
Are you searching for a deeper level of meaning to your existence? Are you perhaps living in quiet
desperation as you carry some unspoken burden or pain? Are you anxious in some way about the
future? Do you have an insatiable hunger in your soul for that something that you can’t even
identify? If so, there’s very good news for you. The One whom God the Father sent to this earth to
draw His people back to himself, the One who healed the sick, raised the dead, made the lame to
walk, gave sight to the blind, and offered up His own life to save us from death, is within reach of
your voice right now.
Like Bartimaeus, we may not see Him, but His ear is tuned to our determined cry. He’s waiting for us
to speak our need to Him, and He’s promised final healing, salvation and peace to all who call on His
name. And His name is Jesus! May we with the diligence of Bartimaeus pursue the abundant
blessings He promises to us as we reach out to Him in faith. Amen.
Sight to the Blind
Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost
Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost
October 25, 2009
The Rev. Daniel Tuton
The Rev. Daniel Tuton
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |