Proper 30, Year B

With Eyes Wide Open

Readings: Job 42:1-6, 10-17; Psalm 34:1-8; Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52

It is said that when you lose one sense the other senses are heightened. Those who are blind begin to see in other ways. Most of us who are sighted fail to see even what is right before our eyes. We may see, but we don’t perceive.

An elderly woman got on a plane one day. As the stewardess helped her to her seat she kept thinking, “As if I’m not busy enough! Now I’ll have to spend the whole trip helping her.” The businessman seated beside her noticed her wallet bulging with pictures. “She’ll be talking incessantly about her grandchildren,” he thought to himself as he pulled out his paper. The teenager in the window seat put on his earphones and ignored her completely. They all picked up their luggage and walked out into the lounge. There was a huge crowd gathered to greet the old woman.

“What an honour it is for us to have an artist like you visiting us.”

The disciples often had trouble with their perception. James and John, for example, had a problem with seeing. They spent three years with Jesus and still didn’t really understand who he was.

But an old blind beggar had no trouble seeing. He knew everyone who passed by his stretch of road on the outskirts of Jericho. He heard their feet shuffling along in the dust. He heard the sighs of relief as they drank deeply of the cool water from the well.
As certain people approached, his hand automatically stretched out in anticipation for the coin that would be dropped into his palm.

As others came by he shrank into his cloak. He heard stories that stirred a deep longing within him. Stories of a miracle worker! A healer! So even in the midst of the crowds heading toward the oasis he recognized Jesus and his disciples as they came down the road. He began to call out, “Have mercy on me."


"Be quiet!" Others on the road ordered. But it did no good. He just shouted louder. “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stopped. "Call him here," he said to them. Bartimaeus did not need any further invitation. He threw off his cloak and sprang to his feet.

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked him.

He had been waiting all of his life for someone to ask that question. He knew exactly what to ask for. He was desperately in need. He had lost everything, even his name.
Son of Timaeus, they called him. Those around him had pity – enough perhaps to throw him a few coins to keep him quiet; but underneath it all, he knew that they blamed him for his troubles. But this was Jesus. The miracle worker! Standing before him. Here was the one who could lift his life out of defeat. It was his one chance. And he seized the opportunity.

"My teacher, let me see again."

And Jesus said to him, "Go. Your faith has made you well."

He could see. He became whole. He followed Jesus. A healing took place that day. A deep healing! But far more than that, a transformation! Bartimaeus followed Jesus. He became a disciple.

Job too lost everything. All he can do is to cry out to God in his need and hope that God will hear and respond. God’s answer is that of a parent. God cannot make the hurt go away. But God can offer a hug. A hug makes it possible to bear any amount of suffering. It transforms Job.

“Before, I knew you only by hearsay,” he says to God, “but now, having seen with my eyes, I retract what I have said, and repent in dust and ashes.”

He sees God’s glory. He understands the meaning of his suffering. He knows the compassion of God. He knows that God walks with us.

“What do you want me to do for you?” God asks us on our faith journey. “What do you need? Do you have a longing in your life that just does not seem to be satisfied? Do you dare to ask me to respond to that longing? Can you name your need?” We all come to God with different needs. It may be a need born of desperation. It may be a sudden awareness of our neediness and an equally sudden response to God. It may be a gradual approach, tentative at first and then growing. We may still be searching for what it all means.

That question, "What do you want me to do for you?" is the central drama in the Christian life. We each respond in our own way. And as long as it is central in our lives, then the church lives. It is the root of our Christian vision. It includes all of us; rich and poor, blind and sighted, powerful and weak.

Naming our need is so important. It is the reason why twelve step programs work. The first step is to name the problem. “My name is … and I am an alcoholic.” Until they are able to take the beginning step, there is no recovery.

Victims of abuse need to name their experience. It is freeing to tell your story and be believed. The greatest affirmation any victim can receive is to be asked as Jesus asked Bartimaeus, “What do you need?” It can be the beginning of healing. It can do far more than any amount of compensation.

Coming to faith is a similar process. But it is a process which is different for each of us, for each of us comes with different needs. What is coming to faith like for you? And I say, "is it like", for it is an ongoing process. It is a journey which continues throughout our lives. For some people, it is a desperate attempt like that of Bartimaeus. There is a sudden awareness of need and an equally sudden response to God. For others the approach is gradual, tentative at first, and then growing. Perhaps some of us are still searching for what it means to be a Christian. Perhaps we are here searching for the beginning of faith.
Whatever the process is for us, hearing Jesus’ question , "What do you want me to do for you?" is the central drama in the Christian life. Each of us needs to respond in our own way. And as long as it is central in our lives, then the church lives. It is the root of the Christian's vision, for it includes the vulnerable of society, the weak, the needy, the marginalized. It has the capability of opening every one of us to God's transforming grace.

We saw it in South Africa as Desmond Tutu spoke the prophetic word about the sweetness of liberation. He firmly believes that liberation, the end of Apartheid, came about through God’s faithful people and their vision of what that blinded society should be like, and who were unwilling to give up that vision. He saw it as an expression of the faith and prayers of Christians throughout the world. And I believe along with him that our prayers were effective.

Do we have a vision for our church and for our society? What is the answer to what many say is the post Christian era? What is the answer to the violence in our society? How do we reach out to people who may never have had any contact with the Christian faith? How do we make our church open and accessible for those who may never have been in a church? How do we help our young people live a Christian life in a system that often reacts in embarrassment at the mere mention of Christian faith?

The end to such blindness begins with our personal affirmation, with our commitment to the life of faith, with our naming and recognizing our need. It continues with our prayer of faith. It is our personal life of faith that gives us a vision for all of creation. As long as that is central the church lives. If Jesus can heal a blind man, he can heal a blind society. He can heal a disintegrating civilization. Through unexpected sources; in unexpected ways; through our vision; through our reaching out to those in need; through our commitment to the gospel; through us, the faithful servants of God.

Open our eyes, Lord. We want to see Jesus.