First Lutheran Church
August 23, 2020
Guest Preacher Rev. Cyndi Jones
Mark 10:46-52 Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving Jericho, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him. The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.” “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.
Sermon
Rev. Cyndi Jones
When someone lost their eye sight in Jesus’ day, they lost more than their vision -- they lost their status in society -- their rightful place in the world -- their voice. They were largely relegated to sitting on the side of the road begging. And that is exactly where we find Bartimaeus in today's reading -- sitting by the side of the road begging. He had a pretty good location, right on the major road from Jericho -- Everyone leaving Jericho had to pass right in front of him. As they say -- location, location, location.
So here in Mark’s story, we find Bart, a blind beggar, sitting on the side of a very busy intersection doing what he does best -- paying attention to the people walking by. What kind of crowd is this? What is this crowd worth? Who is in this parade of people?
Bart has been assessing crowds most of his life -- so he has honed his skills -- he knows that if he calls out too soon he won't be heard and if too late they will have passed by and he will have missed his opportunity. Timing is everything in the blind begging business. As Bart is listening, the noise of the crowd increases. They are getting closer. He hears murmuring of one name: Jesus. // Jesus of Nazareth is mentioned by several people. Maybe Jesus is in this crowd?
Then at just the right moment Bart shouts out – "Jesus, Son of David – have mercy on me." Now he's done it. The people near him turn and tell him to shut up -- “Who do you think you are calling out to Jesus. Stay in your voiceless, out of sight place." But on this day -- this day – Bart says to himself – “Today I will not be silent!” So he shouts all the louder – “HEY Jesus – over here – Son of David – have mercy on me.” This is the day Bart reclaimed his voice – his right to speak and be heard, his right to expect a response.
That was over 2000 years ago. This week marks the 30th year since discrimination against people with disabilities became illegal in the United States. On July 26th, 1990 President George Herbert Walker Bush said, "Let the shameful walls of discrimination come tumbling down." And with that he picked up a pen and signed the Americans with Disabilities Act.
Thirty years ago, on July 26th, I sat on the swelteringly hot and humid south lawn of the White House to witness the signing of the Americans with Disabilities Act, the Declaration of Independence for people with disabilities.
I remember as if it was this morning. As members of Congress, the Cabinet and the Supreme Court and other invited guests took their seats, and the ceremony was about to begin -- just then -- a refreshing cool breeze blew across the assembly. I imagined this breeze beginning in Washington, DC and gathering strength as it blew west across Appalachia, then the Plains, the Rockies – all the way to California and the Pacific Ocean and beyond, beyond to Alaska and Hawaii and ultimately all the way around the world. As this wind from God blew, it became stronger, blowing away the past discrimination and changing the face of America and the world.
We celebrate July 26th to remember the hard work and sacrifice that brought this Law into being. We celebrate to help the next generation not take things for granted. We celebrate taking control of our own lives. And we celebrate that today people with disabilities can speak for ourselves and answer for ourselves.
While today's reading was long before the ADA, Jesus, you might say, was ahead of his time. And hearing Bartimaeus, -- what did Jesus do? Jesus calls him. Then a strange thing happens.
Remember those people who had just told Bart to shut up -- immediately they see Bart in a different light. Their perception of him has changed. -- “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Jesus changes everything. Jesus, the one who knows all, understands all, loves all, does something extraordinary -- he shows us what it means to be a servant.
As Bart shakes the dust off and comes to Jesus –- Jesus does what very few of us do when confronted face to face with obvious need – Jesus now face to face with Bart – asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”
"Hey Jesus -- can't you see he's blind? What do you think he wants?"
Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” Miracle – life changing moment. Perhaps for the first time in years, Bart is treated as someone who can speak for himself, who can decide for himself -- and is worthy of being addressed.
For Bart – his sight being restored perhaps was secondary – he had already regained his dignity. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus modeling for us good servant behavior.
Over the many years as I was publisher of a national magazine for people with disabilities, I received calls from all over the US for all manner of disability issues. One call stands out because it broke my heart.
One afternoon a woman called and said that she and her young daughter had just moved to a new neighborhood in the Midwest and they started going to the neighborhood church. Her young daughter had Down Syndrome and loved to sing, so during the service they sang along with the music.
After the third week, as they were leaving, the pastor told the woman that she was welcome, but her daughter could not return. In her grief, this woman called me -- me a secular publisher. Stunned -- all I could say was to look for a more welcoming congregation.
A few years later a member of the church I was attending brought a friend with her to church. Beth was a young adult with an intellectual disability. She was new to church and didn't understand the liturgy or social customs and was a little disruptive during the service. But this community was accustomed to all sorts of interruptions during the service -- “free roaming” toddlers and people wandering in with all sorts of urgent needs. When Beth started coming, people were drawn to her, and a small group quickly formed to be with her, to sit with her and join her for coffee after the service. A circle of friends. Gradually she learned the rhythms of the church and the people who loved her. The community missed her when she didn’t come. Beth had become part of the fabric of this community.
“What do you want me to get for you?” the servant words we hear every time we go into a restaurant the waitress says something along these lines. But do I see that person as Christ? Rarely.
A few years ago, I was on my way home from a TV interview in Houston. I had a little extra time in the airport and as I often do when given the opportunity, I went over to the near-by coffee stand. “What do you want me to get for you?” Familiar words. “A latte, please” And with my words – the barista turned and started to work on my request.
Not a moment later – a flight attendant rushed up to the counter – “I’ll have a double espresso.” The barista, still working on my request did not respond. Again the flight attendant said all the louder, “I’LL HAVE A double espresso -- and I’m in a hurry!” At this, the barista, calmly turned around.
Now I know what is coming next. It usually happens this way: because I have a disability, my time is perceived to be without value. She’ll stop working on my request and turn to the person who is standing -- the one whose time is perceived as MORE valuable.
But that day was different. “Excuse me,” the barista said, “when I am finished with this customer’s order, I’ll be happy to wait on you.” The flight attendant is shocked -- glances down and for the first time sees that I am at the counter and am being waited on. Up until that moment -- I am invisible. The barista returns to finish my beverage and says that’ll be $4.25-- it is after all, an airport coffee shop -- and I wheel away. As I turn the corner and take a sip of my latte, I begin to weep. I still do. It is the social transaction. That of being truly invisible to some, and yet a person of value to another. This may have been what happened to Bartimaeus.
We don’t know if Bartimeus regained his physical sight or --if because of Jesus attention to Bartimeus, the crowd had simply regained its sight and could now see Bartimaeus -- perhaps for the first time. Their perception of Bart had changed. More than his sight was restored, his personhood was restored. The real miracle was that Jesus made Bartimaeus present.
He was no longer some invisible, unnamed person, in fact he is one of the only miracle stories where we know the person’s name: think about it -- the Syrophoenician woman, the woman with an issue of blood, the leper, the paralytic –all nameless people.
As the Body of Christ -- each one of us, has this extraordinary power, a super power -- just like Jesus -- to make people visible, for them to appear out of the margins, to raise up those who are discouraged or left out. We have been given the power to follow Jesus example --
to look one another in the eye, to call each other by name, to treat one another with respect, and to ask “What would you have me do for you?” and in so doing our communities come closer to the kingdom of God.
Let us pray. Here we are before you, Lord. We are always before you. You hold in mind each one of us as if there were no one else in the world. But we are often unaware of your presence. Here, together, coming to meet with you, we become conscious of you as the reality, the true basis of life. Amen.