Faith That Sees Again
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FAITH THAT SEES AGAIN
The Rev. J. Donald Waring
Grace Church in New York
The Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost
October 27, 2024
The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go, your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight. (Mark 10:51-52)
Today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark reminds me of a harrowing experience my family and I had during our summer travels. In a recent sermon, I described how we were on a driving tour of the deep south. The first leg of the journey was a flight from New York to Memphis, TN, where we rented a 2024 Nissan Altima. Right from the start I was enjoying all the modern features of the car, especially how stiff the suspension was compared to our 2002 roly-poly minivan. Cars these days don’t come with keys anymore. You get a fob that does practically everything for you at the push of a button. Also, the side mirrors have little lights that flash when other cars pull into your blind spots. What will they think of next?
One feature, however, I failed to investigate: the windshield wipers. Why would I? Everyday was hot and sunny, with no forecast of rain. But then, as we were zipping along Interstate 55 towards New Orleans (just keeping up with traffic, I might add, at nearly 80 mph) I noticed a few drops on the windshield. The time to find the wipers had come. Suddenly, it was as if I had steered the car beneath Niagara Falls. The heavens opened with such a torrential downpour that I could not even see the hood of the car. I started pulling levers, twisting nobs, and pushing buttons where wipers had been on dashboards of old. Nothing worked. We had a car behind us, so I didn’t want to come to a abrupt stop. We had a car in front of us, so I definitely did want to stop. I was unclear about pulling off to the side for fear of hitting a guard rail or rolling into a ditch. We were driving blind.
Fortunately, before ramming or being rammed by the nearby cars, I finally pulled the correct lever and turned the wipers to high. It was enough to restore my sight, and stop before hitting the car ahead of us. The whole experience lasted only about thirty seconds. But what a terrifying half minute it was. Let the language I cried be imagined rather than repeated.
We turn now from Interstate 55 in Louisiana to the road between the ancient cities of Jericho and Jerusalem, in the province of Judea. I note, with amusement, the way Mark describes Jesus’ visit to Jericho: He came to Jericho; and as he was leaving Jericho. That’s it. He came, he left – which doesn’t say much for the cultural attractions of Jericho. No sights to see. No local cuisine to sample. No important people to meet. Jesus came to Jericho, he left Jericho. But on the way out of town he encountered a man named Bartimaeus. We don’t know anything about Bartimaeus other than he was a blind beggar, and the son of Timaeus. The early church theologian, Augustine of Hippo, however, thought that today’s reading from Mark provides further clues to his identity. The first clue is the curious naming of Bartimaeus’ father. Bar-timaeus already translates as “son of Timaeus,” so why would Mark take another step to punctuate the point? Augustine thought it was Mark’s way of making clear that Bartimaeus was once a prosperous person, part of a prominent family.[1] Once upon a time, he had it all. Then he lost it all. Life was a good ride until the storm clouds burst, leaving Bartimaeus wrecked by the side of the road.
Bartimaeus was blind, with either no family, or a family no longer of means to take care of him. In first century Judea, without any safety network, he could do little other than beg for a living. To make matters worse, in those days people generally believed that bad things happened only to bad people. The blind were blind, the sick were sick, and the orphans were orphans because someone had sinned. Bartimaeus was blind, they figured, because he himself, his father Timaeus, or some other member of the family had grievously broken a commandment or two. Thus, since God was punishing sin through Bartimaeus’ blindness, people would be reluctant to help. To do so would be interfering with God’s justice.
Nevertheless, the Lord was about to restore the fortunes of Bartimaeus. As he sat by the roadside begging from people entering and leaving Jericho, he heard that Jesus of Nazareth would be passing by. So he shouted, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” The people around Bartimaeus rebuked him. They told him to be quiet and mind his place. But shouted again. Let the language he cried be repeated rather than described, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus heard him. Jesus saw him. Suddenly the townspeople did an about-face and said to Bartimaeus, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” Bartimaeus threw off the only possession he had, his beggar’s cloak, and came to Jesus.
Imagine: after a harrowing ordeal of misfortune and blindness, now Bartimaeus stood before Jesus and heard the Lord of life ask him an extraordinary question: What do you want me to do for you? How would you respond? When Jesus recently put the same question to his disciples, James and John asked for power and influence (Mark 10:37). Others might say health, or true love, or perhaps even the return of a departed family member who died prematurely. What would you say? What is the thing that inhibits you from living fully into being the person you believe God created you to be? Bartimaeus didn’t need to think about it at all: My teacher, let me see again.
Augustine implied that what Bartimaeus said provides the second clue to his identity. “Let me see again,” means that he was once a sighted person who lost the use of his eyes. Bartimaeus had not been born blind. He was asking for something he’d had and lost to be restored. The gift he was asking for was something he remembered once having. You heard what happened next. Jesus said, “Go, your faith has made you well.” Immediately Bartimaeus received his sight. “Immediately” is Mark’s favorite word. What’s the take-away here? It’s neither the healing itself, nor the miraculous timing of “immediately.” Rather it’s something about Bartimaeus’ faith that Mark wants us to emulate. Bartimaeus chose faith, and received back the precious thing he’d once had and lost.
Today’s Old Testament reading from the Book of Job (42:1-17) tells essentially the same story. Many of us know the saga of Job. Job was a man who had it all: wealth, health, and a fine family. Job’s enviable state was a clear sign that God was blessing him. Life was a good ride. Then the heavens opened and the rain fell, suddenly and violently. In a rapid series of calamities Job lost all of his wealth and his children. Soon Job grew seriously and painfully ill himself. He became like Bartimaeus: one from whom the blessings of life were denied. Why do bad things happen to good people? Well, reasoned the friends of Job, bad things don’t happen to good people. Bad things happen only to bad people. The friends counseled that God was withholding blessings and fortunes from Job because of sin. Job had broken the Commandments of Moses and the only way he could stop the storm and regain God’s favor would be to repent of the wrongs he surely must have committed.
Job would have none of his friends’ spiritual direction. Indeed, throughout the forty-two chapters of the book that bears his name, we hear Job’s denouncing his friends’ anemic attempts to explain the mystery of suffering. He had done nothing wrong to bring such misery on himself. We even hear Job’s raging against God for the way God was running the universe. What would Job want God to do for him if God so asked? We can imagine the list: health, wealth, and family restored. And one more thing: an explanation. Job wanted to know why God was treating him unjustly.” Job was simply not going to sit quietly along the roadway of despair. Therefore, Job is a role model of faith for us, as is Bartimaeus. Job chose faith, and clung to the notion that God not only should, but would restore his fortunes. He declared (19:25): I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.
The reading we heard today is the very ending of Job’s book. It’s a happy ending. We hear how God restored the fortunes of this ranting, raving person of faith. Granted, Job never received quite the explanation he demanded. The mystery of suffering remains a mystery, and the Book of Job is an enigma in its own right. But God came through in the end with blessing upon blessing.
Bartimaeus and Job are figures from long ago, and far away. What is the relevance of their stories for us today, in 21st century Manhattan? It is faith. It is the faith that clings to the notion that God is good. It is the faith that trusts God is for us, not against us. It is the faith that allows us to see – again. God hears our cry. God sees us in despair. Indeed, none of us are spared the blinding storms of life. Some live with chronic conditions. Others receive devastating diagnoses. Others lose loved ones and livelihoods. All of us grow old and eventually run out of time. So how can we receive and sustain faith in the goodness of God? What is the nature of such faith? I do indeed wish that I could put faith in a bottle, so that all of us might take it down from a shelf and have a dose whenever we needed to see the miraculous intervention of God. Sadly, I can’t put faith in a bottle, but I can offer some observations that may be spiritually helpful for us.
When it comes to the nature of true faith that opens our eyes to the presence of God, I suspect that many of us often put the cart before the horse. I know that I do. We say, “show me a miracle, like the healing of Bartimaeus, in real time today, and I will have faith.” Or we say, “explain this or that doctrine to me so that it makes rational sense. Give me an enlightened understanding, and then I will believe.” Essentially, what we are saying to God is “give me the gifts, and then I will pay attention to the Giver.” None of this is faith. Rather, it is merely a transactional relationship with the notion of God. But the stubborn, persistent faith we find in Job and Bartimaeus puts the horse back before the cart. Faith comes before miracle. Belief comes before understanding. The Giver precedes and follows the gifts. If we seek only the gifts, we may wind up missing it all. But when we set our sights on God, who is the giver of all good gifts, we discover that God’s good pleasure is to give us the kingdom. Therefore, trust in the goodness of God. As Martin Luther said of Jesus in the famous hymn we will sing today, “the right man is on our side.”
Last summer, while speeding along Interstate 55, the rains came and I lost all sight of where we were headed. I confess that in those harrowing moments I was not contemplating the goodness of God or the nature of faith. But the storm ended as suddenly as it started, and the clouds parted to reveal the rays of the sun, and our journey continued. In retrospect, I take it as a parable of our salvation. Indeed, we trust that it is God’s will that our journey continues. It is God’s will to restore us to the life we lost. The rains come and obscure our sight. But salvation is nothing short of following Jesus on the road towards God’s intention for all of humanity: to be in perfect communion with Himself, and each other, and all of creation. It is a life we all have a primal memory of once having, and will have again. We will see it again. Yet shall we see God; whom we shall see for ourselves and our eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.
Imagine the joy of Bartimaeus when he received back his sight, and beheld his Redeemer, and not as a stranger, again. The Psalmist described the experience with the words we recited a moment ago. Let the verses be repeated:
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
then were we like those who dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy.
Then they said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are glad indeed.
[1] Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, New Testament Vol II. InterVarsity Press, 1998, p. 145.