"…So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man said to him, "My teacher, let me see again." Jesus said to him, "Go; your faith has made you well." Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way."
(Mark 10:50-52)

There is an old story about a man who was walking with his grandson along the beach. A huge wave crashed in and carried the child out to sea. The old man cried out: "God, this is my only grandson. My son and daughter-in-law will die of grief!" Miraculously, the next wave returned the boy to shore. The grandfather then called out to God: "He had a hat!" (Copied)

In this story we hear no thanksgiving – the man called out, God responded, and the man grumbled because things were not exactly as he wanted. In the clergy trade we call this "what have you done for me lately!" This is in direct contrast to the healing of Bartimaeus. In Mark this was the last healing prior to the entry into Jerusalem. It follows the story of the rich young man who was blinded by his possessions and the jockeying for position by James and John.

Bartimaeus survived by begging outside the gates of the city of Jericho. His most prized possession would have been his cloak, as it provided warmth and also a collection point for any coins tossed his way. He probably had little hope of his life changing, but heard of Jesus and seized that one time opportunity. Little did he know that Jesus was walking to his death. He cried out, was shushed by the crowd, cried out loudly again, Jesus heard, and beckoned him to come forward. At this Bartimaeus threw off his precious cloak and sprang forward. When asked what he wished he asked to see. Consequently, he was healed and followed Jesus.

Clearly the blindness of Bartimaeus is a metaphor for all that would keep the religious authorities, the wealthy and powerful, even the disciples from being able to see. We, too, are often blind – blind to what we need to be, blind to what others need and especially blind to our need for God. That blindness, darkness, can be a prison of our own making – caused by addiction, jealousy, anger, or devotion to things of the world instead of to God. That darkness prevents us from seeing clearly, it distorts what we hear and defies rational thinking.

People in power, whether religious, political or economic, can be blinded by their need for position, for authority. The religious authorities of that day were blinded by their certainty of the nature of God and the "rightness" of their theology and of Biblical authority. (Sounds a bit like things today, doesn't it?) Most of us, too, have places of blindness. We hang onto our garments and fear to make a disturbance. We fear to take the initiative and to ask for what we really need. Further, even if we do so we often fear allowing ourselves to be vulnerable enough to receive that which is freely offered. Like confession, absolution and then repentance we fear turning around, walking in new ways, and embracing the light of new life.

There's a story of a man who had poor eyesight and was driving in dense fog. He desperately followed the tail lights of the car ahead. As he squinted to follow the car ahead suddenly stopped, and he hit it from behind. He got out of the car and asked the other driver: "Why did you stop so suddenly?" The man answered: "I had to; I am in my own garage." (Copied) The man followed blindly, oblivious to where he was going and whom he was following.

Bishop Fred Borsch has said that "most of us have gyrations or stages or rhythms in our relationship with God. We may have times of light and warmth when we are very close, when prayer is real conversation and we open ourselves to total trust. We can then cast off the cares and things of the world and pray in our hearts not our heads. The scales fall away and we can surrender ourselves." (Copied)

Most of us cannot stay there, at least I can't. Many times in our relationships with God the voices of the multitude drown us out. We find we cannot discard the trappings of the world; we cannot stop the voices of our intellect in our heads, and we cannot be peaceful and present. We are often self-involved, self-indulgent, or overwhelmed by our own inadequacies and failures in the world. Bp. Borsch has said that "we act as though we are in charge. We look for God in liturgy, intellectual pursuits, and the institution of the Church, in creeds and in the Bible. However, our relationship to God doesn't happen through our own efforts. We need to let go, to wait, to be quiet, to be vulnerable and naked, despite the dark and the cold." (Copied)

Jesus passes by today as surely as he did in the first century, loving, present and accessible. Like Bartimaeus we are to cry out, to discard the trappings that impede us, to grope our way toward him, to say what we need. When we receive that gift we are called to follow in Christ's way.

Jesus hears our internal cries for relationship with him. He is there to give us what we need, to fill our empty hearts and souls. All we need to do is trust and follow. AMEN