23rd Sunday after Pentecost — October 28, 2018   

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

Proper 25
Ordinary 30B

I found myself getting emotional as I read and studied the texts appointed for this fall Sunday.

Job, humbled, confesses to God: “I uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me. I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.” In an age when humility is out of fashion and a time when, according to Jonathan Merritt in a recent New York Times article, words like “love,” “patience,” “gentleness” and “faithfulness” are “much rarer,” Job’s confession strikes a countercultural chord. Merritt sites a study in The Journal of Positive Psychology that revealed that the use of “humility words, like ‘modesty,’ fell by 53 percent.” Even people of faith resist repenting in dust in ashes, save for Ash Wednesday. Rarely do we acknowledge our ignorance, even when it comes to the mind of God. Job’s broken and contrite heart nonetheless resonates with those of us who have known despair, loss and the dark night of the soul. There is a freeing honesty about his raw confession.

Job hits a spiritual rock bottom familiar to anyone who has struggled with deep sorrow, extended suffering or acute guilt. In the depths of darkness, our anger spent, our limitations laid bare, we turn to God, plead for mercy and wait. The patience of Job indeed.

Hebrews reminds us, however, that we do not wait or plead or cry alone. Jesus, the permanent High Priest, intercedes for us. The beautiful, breathtaking promise given us is this: Jesus “is able for all time to save those who approach God through him.” We may sit in dust and ashes for a season, but through the One who lives always to make intercession for us, our cries are met with the word to take heart because we’ve been heard. We will not be left to wallow in the dust, muck or ash forever.

Jesus hears Bartimaeus. Jesus calls for him. Jesus asks him: “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus offers the dignity of asking someone long sidelined and silenced to speak for himself, to have his voice heard, honored and tended. Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of David, refuses to assume he knows what is best for Bartimaeus. When countless people sternly ordered Bartimaeus to be quiet, not make a scene, don’t disrupt, accept your fate, Jesus stops, calls for him and asks him: “What do you want?” Jesus listens and gives Bartimaeus that for which he asks, requiring nothing in return. Jesus tells him, “Go, your faith has made you well.” Bartimaeus instead follows on the way. Imagine if Jesus’ disciples, the church, Christ’s Body, responded likewise to the marginalized, silenced, suffering and vulnerable? Imagine if our prayers and practices imitated those of the great High Priest, the Son of David, our Lord?

What if we sought to bring not just words like “love” and “patience” and “gentleness” and “faithfulness” back into the cultural lexicon, but back into our daily practices? Jesus’ exchange with Bartimaeus son of Timaeus could give us a model for doing just that.

First, the “blind beggar” has a name, a family, a place. He is Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. He lives in Jericho.

Driving with my husband recently there was a man sitting at the end of the interstate exit ramp with a cardboard sign asking for help. My husband said, “Oh, that’s Paul.” I looked at him, surprised he knew the man’s name. My husband continued: “Sometimes I see him near my office. We’ve talked. He has diabetes and we’ve exchanged stories on the difficulty of eating right and keeping it in check.” We pulled up to the stop sign, my husband leaned out the window and said: “Paul! How are you?”

Every “blind beggar” has a name, a family, a story, a place. Gentleness, faithfulness, love and patience call us to know people by name, not by condition or circumstance.

Second, when someone cries out for help, at the very least, we ought not order them to be silent. Disciples of Jesus Christ must honor the pain and hurt of those made in God’s image. Some of us, myself too often included, value politeness and civility over justice. I confess to being guilty of bowing down to the golden calf of decency and order. Those exploited, abused, neglected and hurting should cry out and be heard. God desires abundant life for all people, not a false peace for those with the ability to cross to the other side of the street.

Third, Jesus stops. That adage that “ministry is the interruptions” rings true in this text. Jesus, time after time, even on the way to Jerusalem, stops when someone cries out to him, touches him, asks him for help. Do we? How often have we refused to hear and heed the cries of Bartimaeus because we’ve been too busy doing the work of the Lord? When anyone musters up the courage to call out, to come forward, to say, “Do you have a minute?” our faithful, Christ-like response is to stop and see and hear and attend to him.

Fourth, Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants. Jesus does not presume to know the needs, longings and hopes of the one who is in front of him. Good-intentioned church people often presume to know what other people need. We collect clothing and send it to disaster zones when what would truly be helpful is a check. We go on a mission trip, and our own need to “do something” imposes a project on a community that might really need and want our willingness to listen and learn how we could be in relationship for the long haul. Do we ask what others want and need, or do we presume to know best?

Finally, Jesus gives Bartimaeus that for which he asks with nothing required in return. This is no transaction, no quid pro quo. There is no gratitude or deferece expected. Jesus freely gives, Bartimaeus is free to respond as he is moved. Jesus says, “go.” Bartimaeus chooses to follow Jesus on the way. Would that our mission and evangelism and discipleship were equally as gracious, generous and unencumbered. Would that we, like Job, recognized the extent of our limited understanding and confessed it, knowing that Jesus intercedes for us, hears and heeds our cries and grants us the privilege of hearing and heeding the cries of others in His name.

Those of us who’ve known the mercy, grace, gentleness and patience of the great High Priest, who’ve been seen and heard, honored and healed, saved and redeemed by Jesus Christ, yearn to follow on the way and do likewise. Such grace is beyond our understanding, too wonderful for us, and yet, through Jesus Christ, we know it to be true.

This week:

1. Have you ever presumed to know what someone else needed? Has someone ever presumed to know what you needed?
2. When have you realized that you “uttered what you did not understand”? Have you ever despised yourself? Were you able to confess, repent and receive God’s forgiveness?
3. Pay attention to conversations you hear and have this week. Do you notice “spiritual” or “religious” language? Do you notice acts that reflect that language: gentleness, patience, love, etc.?
4. Take time this week to get to know someone’s name and maybe even part of her story. Really see and hear someone you may not have previously seen or heard.
5. How have you sternly ordered someone to be quiet? Have you ever been told to be silent when you have been crying out for help or justice?
6. Be mindful as you pray and work, rest and play, that Jesus Christ “always lives to make intercession” for you. Remember that Christ right now prays for you.

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