Pentecost 23 – 2018
Mark 10:46-52
Marian Free
In the name of God who refuses to be limited by the confines of the human imagination. Amen.
I have been extraordinarily fortunate in that I have been able to travel. Some time ago I was on a bus tour in northern Italy. As we drew near to the city state of San Marino the tour guide told us enthusiastically that our destination had fantastic views of the ocean. The reality for our group was very different. After we had checked in, my husband and I went for a walk to get a sense of our surroundings. The city streets zigzagged up the hill until we came to the city walls. As we were walking the cloud that had covered the sky during the day decided to settle in. As we returned to the hotel, the mist was so dense and the visibility was so low that it was difficult to discern shapes that were more than a metre in front of us. Just ahead of me my husband looked like a blurry shadow.
At the beginning of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem he healed a blind man (8:22-26). The account is one of the more interesting of the healing narratives in that Jesus fails – at least at the first attempt. After Jesus put saliva on the man’s eyes and laid hands on him, he asked: “Can you see anything?” The man replied: “I can see people, but they look like trees walking.” Jesus had to lay his hands on the man a second time in order for his sight to be completely restored. Another interesting aspect of this account, (though it is consistent with Mark’s story telling), is that Jesus sends the man home but insists that he doesn’t go into Bethsaida. This is presumably so that he doesn’t spread the word of his healing.
The account of Bartimaeus that we have read today is quite different. Bartimaeus is named whereas the first man was not named and it is Bartimaeus, not his friends, who seeks out Jesus. Of further interest is that Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is. He recognises that Jesus is not just any healer – he is the Son of David, the one expected by the Jews. On this occasion, Jesus heals the man immediately.
Of course, the two accounts are interesting in and of themselves. We know Jesus was able to bring about healing, and these stories provide further evidence of this ability. It is intriguing then to ask why Mark would tell a story that indicated that Jesus was not perfect, that not every healing worked – at least not at the first attempt.
The answer to the puzzle lies in part in Mark’s story telling technique. The two accounts of Jesus’ healing a blind man are a literary device (intercalation or sandwiching) intended not just to report on Jesus’ activity but to reveal a deeper meaning or to emphasise the point that he is making.
Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem is framed by these two stories – that of a man who gradually receives his sight and that of a man who sees at once. In between the two accounts Mark includes the Transfiguration and the three predictions of Jesus’ suffering and death. On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus reveals himself and his future to the disciples and yet they remain confused as to who he is and what his purpose might be. Despite everything that Jesus does and teaches the disciples still do not understand that Jesus is very different from the Christ whom they had expected.
On each of the occasions that Jesus predicts his death, the reaction of the disciples demonstrates their complete lack of understanding. They argue about who is the greatest and they ask for seats at Jesus’ right and Jesus’ left. Peter draws from Jesus his strongest language: “Get behind me Satan”, Jesus says when Peter refuses to accept that Jesus will suffer. During the journey, we also see that the disciples are ineffectual. Jesus has given them the power to heal and yet they are unable to heal the boy with epilepsy,
For reasons unknown to us, the author of Mark reveals Jesus’ identity only gradually. The disciples are painted as foolish and capable of completely misconstruing Jesus’ character and purpose. One explanation for Mark’s secrecy is that the author of the gospel knows that the concept of a suffering Christ is so difficult, so outside anyone’s expectation, that he slowly introduces the idea. The three passion predictions and the disciples’ failure to understand provide the readers with the opportunity to learn from the disciples’ mistakes. By the time that, in Mark, the centurion declares of the crucified Jesus: “Truly this man was the Son of God” the readers have come to a place in which they can make that same affirmation. The suffering, dying Jesus is indeed the Christ sent by God.
Blindness comes in many forms. Those of us who have full use of our sight, may have blind spots in our understanding. Like the disciples we may be so formed by our past, by our family experience, by our education that we are unable to identity our prejudices, our narrow mindset or our limited horizons. We may be blind to the ways in which our views of God and of faith have been moulded. We may hold on to “truths” or to “doctrines” that have long since lost their meaning.
The blind men are healed, but the disciples – at this point in the journey – remain in darkness. What is the darkness that binds us? What are the hopes and expectations that hold us in their thrall? What are the images of God –Earth Maker, Pain Bearer, Life Giver – that we cannot let go?
Jesus longs to open our eyes to new and different possibilities, to new ways of seeing God and new ways of relating to the world.
We can allow ourselves to remain in darkness or we can trust that Jesus will take us where we need to go. We can hold on to outmoded ideas, or we can ask Jesus to open our eyes to new and different experiences. We can hold fast to what we have always believed or we can take a risk that God might be so much more than we could ever think or imagine.
We can remain in the dark or allow ourselves to be drawn into the light.


