8:30 service, Sun., Oct. 29 - Reformation Sunday
Bartimaeus … here is one of those funny-named biblical characters whom we seldom remember. And to the people of his day, he was a nobody. He was not only blind … he was dirt poor … literally. His daily existence depended completely upon the charity of passers-by. What could he possibly contribute to society? Lucky for him, this question was irrelevant in his brief encounter with Jesus. His faith somehow made a difference, not his social status. His faith made him well. Hmm … more on this later.
Have you ever considered what your life would be like if you were blind? To be totally incapable of perceiving light? It’s a scary thought … and the way that most people drive in Dallas makes me think that I’m surrounded by blind people. But we have all experienced moments of blindness, haven’t we? Coming out of a dark movie theatre into the brightness of the afternoon sun. Stumbling through the house in the wee hours of the morning, flipping on the bathroom light. Ouch! If only for an instant, our eyes cringe with blindness. I worry each time this happens that I won’t fully regain my vision.
And our eyes are not the only victims here. We can lose our sense of smell, too. I was shopping once with my mother in Bath and Body Works … yeah, I know … I’m a momma’s boy. They do have a fine men’s section in that store, you know? After sniffing around for a while, my mother turned to me and said, “There are too many smells to smell in here.” The collective fumes of apricot, coconut, cucumber melon, and banana cream wreaked havoc on our nostrils. We couldn’t smell anything in that hodgepodge of fragrances.
And what about our ears? Let’s not forget about them. Have you ever sat near the stage at a rock concert? You can barely hear anything for the next few days.
At times, our senses are under attack! Too many stimuli at one time can overwhelm us. It can leave us … well … senseless.
If you’ve ever been to the Texas State Fair, you know exactly what I’m talking about. All those bright blinking lights … and the smells … of hundreds of farm animals and deep-fried Snickers bars. Not to mention the sight of a 52-foot-tall talking cowboy … and the largest Ferris wheel in the Western Hemisphere. I went to the State Fair three weeks ago, and I’m still recovering. All of those attractions were competing for my attention … and my money. When I crawled into bed that night, my brain felt … “ahh … relief.” By the way, everything is bigger in Texas, especially at the State Fair.
But our everyday lives are nothing like a night at the State Fair, are they? Our senses are never overwhelmed by the stimuli that we take in from the real world.
Ha! Yeah … right! Whether we pay attention to it or not, our senses are constantly under attack. On our way to work, in the check-out line at the grocery store, while we’re surfing the TV channels, as we browse around at the bookstore, or while we stroll through the mall, our eyes and ears are bombarded. You know their voices;you’ve even seen their faces. They are everywhere you go.
“Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s Maybelline.” “Can you hear me now? Good.” “Every kiss begins with Kay.” “Beef: it’s what’s for dinner.” “Got milk?” “What’s in your wallet?” “What can brown do for you?” “Did somebody say McDonald’s?” And my new favorite: “Don’t mess with Texas.”
These are household slogans. Children know them better than the Star-Spangled Banner. And companies spend billions of dollars each year to keep it that way. Advertisers know our weaknesses. Their images and catchy jingles infiltrate our minds. They thrive on our insecurities. Their goal is to convince us that we are incomplete without their products. They make us feel that we must look a certain way to gain acceptance…and status. They promise us identity…purpose…and satisfaction. And they offer us sweet salvation from our otherwise ugly, meaningless, and inconvenient lives. Take a good look around my friends. Listen…to the tunes of our culture. We are engaged in a battle of the senses. And this battle can gouge out your eyes…it can deafen your ears…it can leave you…senseless… and numb.
So, who is fighting who in this battle? Well, on one side… is us…potential customers. And on the other side is the real world, where things and status matter more than anything else. I ask you: who is winning this battle in your life? Are you even aware that you’re at war?
Bartimaeus had no status. As far as others were concerned, he was a blemish on society. And he didn’t own too many things. In fact, his cloak was his only possession that we know of. So why does he leave his only possession on the roadside when he gets some face-to-face time with Jesus? I’m sure that Bartimaeus was willing to try anything to ease his hopeless situation. Maybe he thought if Jesus could see his feeble body, he would have mercy on him. Maybe if he could show the world the extent of his suffering, someone might come to his aid.
To some degree, this may be true. But I’m not convinced that this is why he left his cloak behind. You see, his cloak is what identified him as a beggar. It was his identity marker. He used it to keep the dust away from his broken body as he begged at his usual roadside spot. When he heard that Jesus was calling for him, he knew that he must leave his former identity behind, even if it meant losing his only possession. He knew that he would come away from his encounter with Jesus as a new person, a new identity. Bartimaeus did not ask Jesus for wealth. He didn’t ask for power or acceptance. His low social status was not his crippling problem. He simply asked for the ability to see where Jesus would lead him. He regained his sight and followed Jesus on the way. This did not end his suffering. He was still poor, but he was a new person. He was now a disciple. He was capable of following Jesus into Jerusalem, where Jesus too would suffer greatly for the healing and restoration of the whole world. Bartimaeus was not avoiding suffering; he was willing to follow Jesus into his suffering.
What astonishes me the most about this story is not the miraculous healing of a poor blind man. No. This story is much more than a retelling of a miracle. Jesus doesn’t just heal Bartimaeus of his blindness. He heals Bartimaeus’ whole being. His physical, spiritual, and emotional brokenness. Jesus lifts him up from the dusty roadside. He gives him purpose and a new identity as a disciple of Jesus. And he restores him as a viable member of the community of faith.
So why does Jesus respond: “Go; your faith has made you well?” What does Bartimaeus’ faith have to do with his healing? Can we say, then, that being healed of our suffering is simply a matter of having ‘the right kind of faith? Surely not! This reading of the text just won’t do. There are too many faithful people in our community who would not understand why
their suffering continues despite their courageous faith in God.
Bartimaeus’ faith was not merely the belief that Jesus could cure his blindness. No. The faith that healed Bartimaeus was his trust that when he cried out to Jesus, he would be heard. Amidst all the noise of the crowd, midst their calls for Bartimaeus to shut his mouth, Bartimaeus shouted all the more loudly for Jesus. And Jesus stood still. Isn’t that beautiful? Isn’t that amazing? Jesus stood still … and listened. He heard the cry of a nobody. He didn’t see a pathetic blind man. He didn’t consider his contribution to society. Where other people saw a distraction, Jesus saw an opportunity for healing.
Bartimaeus’ faith was a healing faith because it refused to give up. It refused to wait by the roadside. He called out to Jesus despite the deafening noise of the crowd. His faith refused to be silenced. And his faith would not be overcome by crippling calls of his culture. This is a healing faith.
And we need this faith in order to survive the battle of the senses. From Bartimaeus, we learn that our faith must be bold; it must be loud amidst all the noise of our surroundings. We must cry out to God, even from the depths of our suffering and frustration and confusion. And when we cry out to God, we must trust that God will give ear to us. That God will stand still…and hear our desperate cries.
It’s a comfort to know that despite all the noise, all the empty promises that the real world makes to us, we can call out to Jesus, and he will stand still. He will listen to us. For those of you whose ears feel numbed by all the noise out there, hear the good news: God stands still for you. As our psalm for today reads: “This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord, and was saved from every trouble.”
God wants to make you whole. The things of this world cannot do this, no matter how good they look.
So how do you stand in the battle of the senses? Are your eyes blinded by the bright and blinking lights that tell you that how you look matters more than how you love? Are you deaf from the endless noise of your culture? Does your salvation come from the things that you own? The battle rages on.
We need a loud faith, a faith that is louder than the deafening noise of this world. And we need a bold faith, a faith that shines brightly even in the midst of our suffering.
Just as Bartimaeus left his cloak at the dusty roadside, our faith calls us to leave our former identities behind. If your salvation comes from the things that you can buy, leave that cloak behind. If your appearance matters more to you than your ability to follow Christ, leave that cloak behind. And come … follow Jesus on the way.
May we learn to cry out to God amidst all the noise of our culture. And may we find that God stands still for us offering us salvation and restoration and healing. May it be so. Amen.
under the chosen Sunday to hear audio of sermon (mp3 format) (beginning March 11, 2007).
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