Today I would like to do something with you to emphasis the personal nature of the Gospel. Today we are going to be Bartimaeus and we are going to meet Jesus. So I want you all to sit back and relax. Take a deep breath. Put aside what you are doing. Leave your cares behind. What would it be like to be Bartimaeus.
You are sitting by a roadside. It is hot. There are people around. You are helpless to change your situation. Oh, you can make small, little changes like where you sit (sort of) or when you do small things but your life is dictated by your blindness. To make matters worse, many people have no pity for your situation, they even think that the reason you are blind is because you are a sinner or that your parents were. Passersby feel very free to mock or insult you. No one seems to care what is in your heart. No one wants to know who you really are. They want to ignore you, as though you are a blight on society. You have spent many years wishing you were someone else, someone that was respected. You might even blame your parents for being sinners and putting you in this state. Though it is true that there are some kind people around, it seems they are few and far between. What stands out in your mind are the ones who keep pulling you down, who keep looking down on you for things you have little control over. It seems you can’t win, you can’t change your situation, you are stuck. Many days you wake up thinking, “I will change. I won’t be in this situation. I will try to be different.” However, by the end of the day, you are pushed back down. You feel crushed by life, crushed by your blindness, crushed by sin. Why did God allow this to happen? Why? This isn’t right. If only someone could see who I really was, if someone could see beyond the beggar. Even though life is crushing and hurtful, each day, for some reason, you go on. You exist, you beg for bread, you merely live.
Recently, you have been hearing about this man named Jesus. He has helped people. He has cured lepers. He has even raised the dead. Some good people tell you about Him. Your heart soars with possibility. Could it be true that your blindness could be cured, that you could have healing for the one thing that has made your life a living depression? You are excited at the possibility. But then you let the darkness over take you. Why would Jesus care about me and my affliction? No one has ever opened the eyes of a blind man who was blind from birth. I am a sinner. God created me this way, as I have been told by many holy people, so I shouldn’t expect anything. Other people have tried to help me and they failed, how could this be any different? Besides, it is not like He will ever come here. No one would care enough to bring me to him. And so, you are stuck. It is not fair, your heart screams, I didn’t ask for this. You sit in your poor misery feeling doomed.
As you sit absorbed in your misery, the world seems to past you by. You are brought to attention that something is different around you. There is a joy in the air. People are not talking as loudly as usual but in slightly hushed tones as to discuss but to also hear. What is going on? You strain your senses and you hear stories but what are they talking about? You start to feel annoyed, left out as usual, but your annoyance goes away when you hear the word “Jesus.” Your heart leaps – He is coming here! He will be passing by soon. For some reason all your negative thoughts and feelings go away. You feel power and dignity at the very name of this holy man. Your heart has never been so excited. You can barely contain it in your chest. Usually you are a practical person who would not get excited, your hope, after all, has been crushed many times. You can barely sit so you stand leaning against your wall to keep your balance. You hear Him now. You hear Him speak and the words He speaks touch your heart. With even more courage you cry out, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” The crowd around you tells you to be quiet, people even threaten you, “Silence sinner.” But your courage, for some reason, did not fail. If hearing His words, if knowing about His presence could do so much, what could He do? You call out even louder, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” Nothing. Your heart starts to fall, all your courage fails. You start to feel like a fool for trusting that anyone could care. Then you hear it. A person in the crowd grabs you as you start to slump to the ground and says, “Courage friend, He is calling you!” You stand up, led by your new friend. You cast off all your possessions, your cloak, everything and run with this new friend, almost getting ahead of him. Your friend arrests your arm and you hear a voice strong and loving, “What do you want me to do for you?”
I invite each and everyone to answer this question. I will give you a few moments to think and pray over this question. Today, in the Eucharist, the same Jesus who raised up the son of Timaeus will be coming to us. He asks the same question, “What do you want me to do for you?”