The Man by the Side of The Road

April 30, 1989

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Scripture: “And Jesus stopped and said, ‘Call him.’” Mark 10:49a

It’s such a simple story, in a way, this healing story from Mark...blind Bartimaeus. Nothing special about it, nothing all that unusual or distinctive. Stories just like it are scattered throughout the Gospels.

Jesus was always healing people, according to the Record...men, women, children...the lame, the blind...once He healed a man with a withered arm...once He healed 10 lepers from that terrible disease. HE WAS ALWAYS DOING THINGS LIKE THAT. It was so typical of Him, so normal, so in character. I almost want to say so commonplace, if you won’t think I’m calling a miracle commonplace.

Yet this particular story, which, incidentally, is paralleled in both Matthew and Luke, has, it seems to me, an especially... how shall I say it?... an especially unaffected and natural quality about it, a disingenuous, matter of fact quality about it...almost as if the physical healing were not intended by the author to be the most important thing to be remembered.

It IS a simple story... no complex plot, no sudden twists and turns, no highly developed personality characterizations, very little dialogue... a simple story---even a child can understand it as it flows from the page.

Yet there is something here so profound and so... searching, so timeless and so wonderful that we could spend days with it and not exhaust the material. We won’t, I promise, don’t worry, but let me share with you some of what I’ve been able to dig out of it so far.

Very quickly, the setting... Jericho. Some of you have been there...the city of palms, in Jesus’ day, a tourist city, a resort city... a good place for beggars... located down in the valley, near the banks of the Jordan, about 15 miles from Jerusalem, on the road that leads to the Trans-Jordan.

A blind man named Bartimaeus lived there, with no means of support except to beg.

I turned a beggar away at the Church office last week. I told him NO. I think I did the right thing under the circumstances, though it’s so hard to be sure, and you want to do the right thing. I’m pretty sure this was the right thing. He’s an old customer of ours. We know him. He’s come before. We’ve helped him before, and learned out of that experience, painfully and expensively, that he’s a fraud. He didn’t tell us the truth. I don’t think he was telling the truth this time, either, and benevolent spirit or not, you just don’t like to subsidize fraudulence.

Are all beggars crooks? No, of course not. Some are, but there’s no evidence Bartimaeus was. He was blind. We don’t know how...maybe from birth, maybe from an accident, maybe from some disease...even today the Middle East has a shockingly high percentage of blind people. It’s one of the first things you notice when you travel there.

This man, not by choice, was forced, apparently, to eke out a precarious existence as best he could by playing on the sympathy of others.

Don’t you wonder what he might have thought on this day as he went out to his station along the highway?

Don’t you wonder if he had any premonition of what it might bring?

Do you suppose he went out resigned, or optimistic?

After all, it was the Passover season, a good time of the year for beggars.... It was sort of like Christmas here, when hearts maybe are a little more tender than usual, and human compassion more easily aroused.

Could he have had an inkling of what was to come?

At any rate, suddenly... it happened... a parade, an entourage.... Bartimaeus couldn’t see, but he could feel, he could sense, he could hear... “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.”

Have you ever thought... this is a parenthetical, but have you ever thought, if you could put yourself down if you could transport yourself, if you could pick yourself up and move across time, as in a time capsule, so that you could be there, be an eye-witness to a Gospel event, any one, which would you choose?

Would you want to be present at Calvary? I’m not sure I could take that. I don’t know if my stomach would hold it. Would you want to witness the glory of the Transfiguration, or the Baptism, or maybe be present to kneel with others at the manger in Bethlehem?

Wouldn’t that be something?

I’m not sure what event I would choose, if I could pick any one, but maybe it would be enough just to stand in a crowd like this one, and feel the tingle, the excitement, the electricity of expectancy that would HAVE to be there as you looked up the road and saw him coming.... “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by....”  It sends chills up and down your spine.

Bartimaeus couldn’t see any of it...he was blind. BUT HE KNEW.... HE UNDERSTOOD. THIS WAS IT. IT WAS NOW OR NEVER TIME. AND HE RESPONDED.

Yelling louder than anybody else in the crowd, he shouted, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.”

He knew it was his chance, the best opportunity he would ever have.... If he could just get a response from the Man, it would be a lot bigger than a couple of coins clanging in a cup.

Now you can say what you want to about Bartimaeus... this may seem brash to us, even crass... it did to the crowd, but you have to say this for him---

He may not have had manners, but he sure had motivation. He may not have had finesse, but he sure had fervor. What he lacked in etiquette,   he more than made up in earnestness. Give him an “F” in the social graces, if you like; you’ve got to give him an “A” in persistence.

The more the crowd tried to “shush” him, the louder he shouted, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.”

And this is the part I like best. Mark says.... Can you see it in your mind’s eye...the crowded street scene, the noise, the tumult...the parade winding its way along, the man on the side of the road, shouting out his plea.... Mark says, so simply...our text...not a word in it with more than one syllable---- “And Jesus stopped, and said, ‘Call him.’”

There it is.... THE CROWD BUZZED.

And Bartimaeus-----the words are almost alive in Mark, they almost move on the page in front of you----

And Bartimaeus sprang to his feet...this is a blind man now, a man who can’t see a thing.... Bartimaeus sprang to his feet, and throwing aside his garment----that’s got to be an eye-witness touch...throwing aside his garment, he ran out on the road where Jesus was. FORGET MODESTY AT A TIME LIKE THIS. There are more important issues at stake.

Isn’t it a vivid image, the 2 of them standing together there on the highway---

The Man who has everything, and the man who has nothing.... The Man who could DO anything, and the man who couldn’t even pay his own way. The Man who could see into the very depths of the human soul, and the man who couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face....

The Prince and the pauper, the Owner and the outcast, the Master and the misfit, the Man of abundant life, and the man of miserable existence.... What a contrast!

And yet, ironically, the one on His way to die...the other on the threshold of a whole new dimension of life.

INCREDIBLE...even at that point, even that near the end, Jesus continues to give.

The whole Gospel, in a sense, is encapsulated here...the whole, grand “good news”, in all its mystery and gracious fullness, is symbolized in a way in the meeting of these 2 men on the road.

“What do you want me to do for you?” GOSPEL OFFER. And Bartimaeus grabs it while it’s hot. “Master, I want to see.”

I tell you, if you don’t feel the poignancy, voltage of that, then I’m afraid you’re blinder than Bartimaeus himself.

Well, it moves quickly from that point on, and so must we. Jesus of course heals him. Right there. Don’t ask me how. I don’t know. I really don’t know. The New Testament doesn’t explain it, and isn’t even interested in the mechanics of it, the kinds of questions we, most naturally, would want to ask.

Since Jesus was an extraordinary man, it follows that He would do extraordinary things, that’s the New Testament assumption, and that’s where it leaves it.  Knowing as we do today the close, intimate relationship between mental and spiritual health and physical health...the close bond of the interrelatedness, might make us suspect that Jesus was  aware of some physical, healing principles still beyond our present day knowledge. Maybe some day we’ll discover that. In this case faith seems to have played a part, but it doesn’t always in the New Testament accounts of healing…. I don’t know.

Mark would be astonished that we’d even wonder. He wasn’t writing a medical document he was writing a spiritual document. Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted most. Bartimaeus told him, and JESUS GAVE IT TO HIM... a compassionate response to a need.

 “Immediately”, Mark says, “Bartimaeus received his sight”, and then he concludes his account with this beautiful touch, “And afterward, he followed Jesus in the way.” It’s more than a miracle of vision, it’s a miracle of deliverance. He saw in more ways than one.

Now that’s the story as Mark sets it down. It’s a good story. I want to say 3 things about it, if I may...make 3 relatively undeveloped comments, that I think are pertinent, and legitimate...and applicable to us, right here, right now, in this latter part of the 20th Century.

1) Comment number 1 is simply that there is more than one kind of blindness.

Bartimaeus had one kind, the most obvious kind. Call it, I suppose, blindness of the outer eye.

I remember when I got my first pair of glasses. It was 10 years ago, almost exactly. Up until then, I had never had any trouble seeing...I never even thought about it much. I took it for granted.

The stitches on a curve ball, signs at a distance, small print...I could see it all. Never had a problem.

But all at once, or what seemed like all at once, there was a change...my perceptions were altered. I noticed a deterioration in the quality of newsprint. I thought it was a conspiracy...communist plot or something.

People’s faces were sometimes blurred...what’s happening to them, I wondered. My children were pointing out visual details I couldn’t even see.

I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT I WAS MISSING.

REMEMBER THE STORY OF the woman who was taking a shower at home one day when the doorbell rang? She called out, “Who is it?”, and back came the voice from the door, “Blind man.”

“Well”, she said to herself, “blind man...I guess it doesn’t matter whether I’m dressed, or not.” So she answered the door “au naturel”...as it were.

The man said, “Where do you want me to put these Venetian blinds, lady?”

YOU CAN MISS A LOT IF YOU CAN’T SEE.

That was Bartimaeus, physically blind, cut off from experiencing certain things. That’s one kind.

But there’s another kind of blindness, and it may be more crippling than his kind. Call it blindness of the INNER eye. It’s when you’re not willing to see.

In our story, it’s represented by those other people in the crowd, those townspeople and neighbors, the people of Jericho, who were so annoyed with Bartimaeus.

They may have had 20/20 vision, but they never saw him, at least they saw him only as stereotype, as nuisance, not as a person.

See how Mark puts it, when Bartimaeus was calling for help: “Many rebuked him, telling him to be silent.”

Well, no wonder...he was embarrassing them. All that noise, all that commotion.

What’s wrong with you, man?

Don’t you know how to act in public? Cool it. They could tolerate him, as long as he stayed in his place, as long as he behaved...on the fringe.

But assert himself? Be quiet. Stay out of our hair. Don’t bother us. They never really saw him as a human being. They were blind to what was really going on.

Well, bring it down to our own day.... Is it all that different, even now even in the Church? Where are the Bartimaeuses today in the United Methodist Church? I don’t say it as a criticism, or to carp. I really say it as a challenge.

Where is our ministry with those who live out on the fringes of life? Do we ever see them?

You know, they’re the ones Jesus principally identified with... that’s sort of hard for us....

In fact, they’re the ones He seems to have liked best. The harshest criticism of Jesus found on the pages of the New Testament was made by people who didn’t approve of His associates. “Look at him”, they sneered, “he associates with harlots and publicans and sinners.”

AND HE WORE IT, THAT CRITICISM, AS A BADGE OF HONOR.

“Thank God”, somebody has said, “Jesus never lost His taste for bad company.”

Maybe one of the tragedies of our time is that the more secure we become ourselves, the less sensitive we become to those who have no security at all.

The more fortunate we are, the less likely we are to see those who are truly unfortunate in the world.

Who are the blind? Are they those who can’t see, or those who won’t look?

Are they those with detached retinas, or those with a detached heart?

Maybe the blindest people of all are those who are so wrapped up in their own comfort, and security, and protection against annoyance that they’ve trained themselves not to notice the hurt around them.

There’s more than one kind of blindness. Bartimaeus isn’t the only blind person in this story.

Certainly, it raises the question as to which kind of blindness is harder to cure, or which kind of recovery represents the greater miracle.

2) Now the second comment I would make is that there  are miracles that will never  take place until someone is willing to stop.

“And Jesus stopped.” It’s so eloquent...in its very simplicity, it’s eloquent, the way Mark just says it. “And Jesus stopped, and said, ‘Call him.’”

The late Hal Luccock, in commenting on this passage in the Interpreter’s Bible, says, “The art of stopping is a high art. We have a schedule, and as an acute observer noted, we often spell that word ‘skedaddle’. So we ‘skedaddle’ from here to there, to arrive breathless at the exact moment of the appointment. It’s not easy to stop. It takes humility and it takes reverence for personality. But stopping is a prelude for any real work of healing. (It’s significant that) Jesus never healed anybody on the run. And the disciple is not above the Master. He must learn to stand still and to stand at attention before his brother or sister in Christ.”

You see, there are situations in life that are never going to be cured, never going to be remedied until we have learned, and until we practice, the high art of stopping.

It’s such a pertinent word for those engaged in ministry...on any level. I’m preaching to myself, now, and maybe to some of you, too. We go, headlong, constantly in motion...resentful of interruptions....

But if no one is willing to stop, then the very people who need it most, little children at a formative stage, older people, along the sidelines, the hurt, the bleeding, the disillusioned...those who can’t demand it for themselves...will fail to receive the ministry God wants them to have.

Jesus stopped. He said, “Call him.” It’s one of the most gracious things about Him I know. It became right there a one-on-one situation.

He didn’t ask Bartimaeus to call him for an appointment. He didn’t ask him for references. Gosh, I’m glad he didn’t ask one of the disciples to write up a case history.

Instead, with that great heart filled with compassion for a fellow human being, He focused His entire attention on that man’s personal need. I think that’s what authentic ministry is all about.

Malcolm Muggeridge, the maybe eccentric, but brilliant English journalist and writer, became a Christian a few years ago. He says it was Mother Teresa who was chiefly responsible for leading him to the Faith. He has written a book about her, entitled “Something Beautiful For God.”

The whole world knows Mother Teresa. She’s not a beautiful woman. You couldn’t call her beautiful, by any stretch of the imagination, at least externally. Her beauty is on the inside, in an inner radiance that is winsome and contagious.

The first time Malcolm Muggeridge came in contact with her, he says, was back years ago on a visit to Calcutta in India.

He saw such misery there, such deprivation and poverty and filth that it made him physically sick. It was too much. “I went back to my comfortable hotel room,” he writes... “I went back to my room and had a stiff whiskey and soda to expiate Bengal’s wretched misery. I ran away and stayed away. Mother Teresa moved in and stayed, and that’s the difference.”

Exactly! That’s the difference. There are miracles that will never happen until someone is willing to move in and stay.

Jesus stopped, and said, “Bring that man to me.” That was when the healing and the transformation took place.

3) Now, one final comment, one brief, final comment, and we are done. Call it the evangelistic note, if you like, because it’s there, as it always is with Jesus.

The comment is simply, BE READY. WHATEVER YOUR PERSONAL SITUATION, whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve been in the past, whatever your affliction, BE READY TO RESPOND WHEN THE LORD CALLS TO YOU.

BARTIMAEUS waited a long time. But when his chance came, he leaped...literally leaped. He wasn’t qualified; he wasn’t trained; he didn’t have any gifts or graces of significance.

As Dr. William Barclay points out, he even had a woefully inadequate Christology. Twice he called Jesus, “Son of David”, which was a strictly messianic title, with heavy military and political overtones, the very implications Jesus most wanted to stay  away from.

Of course he didn’t understand. BUT HE ACTED ON WHAT HE DID KNOW.

And, you see, that’s the wonder and that’s the miracle of the Gospel. That’s the real miracle. YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE A FINISHED PRODUCT TO COME TO JESUS, AND ACCEPT HIS ACCEPTANCE.

You can come as you are... and He receives you, not on the basis of your worth, but on the basis of your desire to come.

What else can you call it but miracle?

Because He believes in you, you can believe in yourself. In allowing His gracious evaluation to be authoritative, you are set free for new life.

Why, it’s like... it’s like being blind... and suddenly, miraculously, being able to see.

You want to hear some good news? There’s not enough of that going around, is there? Well, here’s some good news.

There IS Someone who hears us when we cry to Him, who sees us even when we’re sightless, who finds us, even when we’re lost in the crowd.

He calls to us, and when we respond, darkness turns into light, and even the night becomes as day.