He had a father once. His father's name was Timaeus. We do not know what happened to his father. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he just could not deal with having a blind son. Everyone dreamed of having a son in Jesus' day. A son meant a future, someone who could make an income, someone to care for you in your old age. Timaeus must have been thrilled to have a son, to know that his bloodline would continue, that he would have help, support, recognition.
It would not have taken long for his parents to realize that their baby was blind. Or perhaps he had been born with some sight but it had been taken from him gradually, slowly, painfully. He could have fallen ill and lost his sight. He could have had an accident. Whatever happened, at some some point, Bartimaeus became blind. And, at some point, his family left him. By the time we meet him, he is alone. The son of Timaeus is alone and blind.
He sat beside the road on the way to Jericho. It was a good road to beg, narrow and windy. People who were traveling could not avoid the blind man. They could not pretend that they didnt see him. The road was too narrow for avoidance. No, people would have to pass right by and their discomfort, their shame, their guilt would sometimes bring them to give him food or water or better yet, money. And occasionally someone gave him something not out of guilt but out of genuine kindness. And these moments were probably like light itself to him.
Most blind people can hear really well. They must hear, it is all that they have. They are forced to depend on their other senses. Those senses sharpen. Bartimaeus must have heard rumors about this Jesus, the one who could heal, the one who performed miracles. He must have heard people talking as they walked, listened in on conversations as travelers processed what they had heard, what they had seen, as they discussed the way that Jesus looked, the miracles that he did. He cured the blind! The lame walked! The dead came back to life! They were saying that this Jesus from Nazareth was the Messiah, the Son of David.
Bartimaeus began to hope, you know that he must have begun to hope. Would Jesus ever walk his way?
Then, one day, he heard the name. Jesus was coming! Crowds were amassing in Jericho to see him. He would pass right this way, on this narrow road. This was the chance of a lifetime. This was the moment.
Bartimaeus was used to being shoved aside, ignored, even trampled in crowds. How would he get Jesus to come to him? How could he make sure that Jesus came, that he healed? The only thing he had was his voice. So as Jesus approached, Bartimaeus began to yell. People told him to be quiet. They told him to shush, but he ignored them. This was his only chance, the chance of a lifetime.
"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Bartimaeus was smart! He was acknowledging that he believed Jesus to be the Messiah. "Son of David," he cried out again, "Have mercy on me!!"
Jesus hears him. He hears the urgency in this mans voice. He hears the plea, the desperation, the hunger, the need. But instead of walking to the blind beggar who sat on the side of the road, instead of walking by him like everyone did and healing him on the way, Jesus stops and stands still. He tells his disciples to call the blind man. Jesus wants him to walk, to meet him on his own two feet. Jesus calls him to come.
And there is this moment when the blind beggar must get his rigid body off the ground and grope his way forward to the King of Kings. Only after his walk, only after he comes on his own two feet, in his sloppy, unsure, groping way, does Jesus heal him. And you would think that he would have walked tentatively, not knowing what was out there, but when Jesus calls him, Mark writes that he throws off his cloak and jumps up! He is bound and determined to seize the moment and find the Lord.
I find it fascinating that the Son of God made the blind man walk to Him. Why? Jesus had walked for hundreds of miles and would walk further still. He would have to pass Bartimaeus anyway. Why ask the poor man to get up and make such an effort?
Somehow, I believe that the effort was important. You see, when we ask God to fix things for us, God often wants us to go in on it with Him. God wants us to come first to Him, before all of our problems are solved, before we are healed. In fact, the healing often begins when we realize that the first steps must be in God's direction. You may think that the first and most important thing you need is for your problems to be solved, but the first thing is always to grope your way forward in the dark towards God, not knowing if anything will get better, not knowing if God will answer your prayers but somewhere, deep inside, understanding that it is your only hope.
It is hard to understand why the Maker of the Universe would want us to get up and walk. Why doesn't God just do it all for us? Why does God ask us to try stuff when we cannot see clearly, when we are not even sure what it is that God is asking of us? Dont you sometimes feel like you are trying to do God's will and you don't even know what that will is? That you are groping in the dark, hoping that at least your efforts please Him?
That blind man must have looked like such a fool, in front of all the disciples and the crowds. Jesus asks the disciples to call Bartimaeus for him. He does not do it himself, so the blind man does not even know the sound of his Master's voice. He has to walk around in the dark, listening to the movement, the beating hearts, the sounds of many voices. Until he finds the Lord.
The blind man is healed because asks, yes, but also because he gets up and goes out to find Jesus. He doesn't just wait for God to fix his life, he acts to fix it too.
Dean Jose Angel is here today. He is the Dean of the Episcopal Cathedral in Havana, Cuba. He lost his voice a number of years ago, and they tried everything that they knew how to in Cuba. But no one could heal his voice. He came to the United States, hoping to find some help for his Cathedral. He did not know how he could continue to preach without a voice.
Here, about one year ago, as Dean Jose struggled to read just a portion of the Eucharistic prayer, Dr. Ryan Uitti, a neurologist at Mayo, was watching and listening. After the service, Ryan told Dean Jose that he believed he knew what was wrong. His problem was neurological, not vocal. He began a treatment plan at Mayo. You will hear him celebrate today. His voice is coming back.
Dean Jose prayed to God for help, and then he asked for help and he came to us, and we came to him. And a miracle occurred.
Theodore Roosevelt once uttered these words in a speech in Paris, France in 1910...
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood: who strives valiantly...who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."
Today, you will be invited to bring your pledge cards up with you to communion. You will be asked to place them in a basket before the altar of God. Some of you might feel like the blind man, groping your way forward, thinking, why should I give when I need so much? Why should I get up and walk forward and give a portion of my income to God? Why doesn't God just give to me?
God gives best when you give too. God gives best when you go in search for him with your whole self, with your body, your mind, your resources, your talents, your money. Get up and walk. Dare to walk into the arena of life. Haven't you ever wondered why we only bring communion to those who cannot walk to the rail? Its not for convenience, it's because it is essential that you get up and walk to Jesus. Even if you have no idea which way to go. You may need to grope forward in the darkness to find Him. But when you find Him, He will open your eyes more. You will see. And you will give thanks.
And so Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus, walked to Jesus, and his eyes were opened. And he gave thanks to God.
