Mark 10:46-end
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
be acceptable in your sight, O Lord my strength and my redeemer. Amen.
Today’s gospel is about blindness and sight.
For someone who has recently come to terms with the need for reading glasses it might seem rather apt. But I don’t want to literalize this narrative, because I think it has far more to say about inward blindness and seeing rather than outward.
So let’s begin with Bartimaeus in the dark.
I wonder if you can identify with that. Have you ever felt like you are in the dark – that there is no glow of light to be found? Maybe the things which brought brightness in life no longer do so; perhaps you’re stumbling along not quite sure of the direction of travel. Maybe grief or regret or sorrow or disappointment have cast a shadow.
I wonder whether that was what it was like for Bartimaeus as he sat on the roadside.
And I wonder what that roadside was like. Did it feel as if everyone else was passing by with purpose whilst he sat on the sidelines? Have you ever felt like that? A spectator rather than a participant? Displaced, or overlooked, perhaps offering a perspective others don’t want to hear?
I wonder if that’s what it was like for Bartimaeus.
And then there was the begging. Bartimaeus begging for that which was life-giving. Perhaps you have sometimes felt like that. As if you are depleted and the well has run dry. Just getting through the day is an achievement.
I wonder if that’s what it was like for Bartimaeus.
I remember times like that in my life and I’m sure you do too.
We have all from time to time been Bartimaeus – sat in the darkness, consumed by blindness, sidelined.
And it changes us. Sometimes it can transform us.
That was certainly the case for Bartimaeus.
In his darkness, from his roadside as the multitude passed by Bartimaeus encountered the person of Jesus.
He called out across the crowd and Jesus heard him, responding with the words ‘call him here’. And, surrounded by the encouragement of those around him, he did - throwing off his cloak, springing to his feet, and coming to Jesus.
“My teacher, let me see again” he says.
Did you catch the detail?
“let me see again”
Bartimaeus had seen before. There was a time when vision was his.
And in this gospel narrative he regains his sight.
But he didn’t just get back what was once his.
Because the same words used in this text can also mean that Bartimaeus wanted to ‘look upwards’.
Bartimaeus regained his sight, but it seems he gained a lot more also.
He found a new way of seeing, a higher vision.
And this of course is the pattern of spiritual growth we find time and time again in the scriptures.
Order, disorder, reorder. Life, death, resurrection.
We find it in the gospels. We find it in the Old Testament as the Israelites journeyed from Egypt to the wilderness to the promised land.
Changing how we see is intrinsic to the journey of faith,
Bartimaeus learned that as he sprang to his feet and threw off his cloak on the roadside in Jericho.
We learn it in our various ways and in our own various times today.
And it is, as Rowan Williams so eloquently puts it, “a deeply revolutionary matter”.
For we are called to see not with the eyes of our bodies, or with the eyes of our minds, but with the eyes of our hearts.
Let me give you an example.
When we look with the eyes of our bodies we see that which is on the surface, which is what of course our eyes are intended to do. But it is superficial, lacking in depth or nuance.
When we look with the eyes of our minds we see in a way that is shaped by our assumptions and prejudices, our fears and preconceptions. We see through a prism of our own making. We make a judgement based on the age, or accent or presentation of the person we encounter.
When we look through the eyes of our heart, well, that’s a very different perspective indeed – a new kind of seeing which, as Bartimaeus found, helps us glimpse heaven and earth at the same moment.
For the eye of the heart is the eye that looks at the world from the place where God dwells.
And once you have glimpsed through the eye of the heart, there is no going back. It’s a new way of seeing, a clearer way of seeing, a more hopeful and colourful way of seeing.
In the 5th Century St Augustine wrote, “Our whole task in life is to heal the eye of the heart so that God may be seen”.
And if we can do that, everything becomes new - the world is suddenly charged with God’s grandeur; individuals shine made in his image and full of wonder and hope; we glimpse ourselves as unique and beautiful people. We see without prejudice, without fear. The eye of our heart finds the glory of God revealed on the mountaintop, in the dark places of the world, on the High Street, and in our homes.
Such was the joy of Bartimaeus as he discovered a new way of seeing.
Such is the joy awaiting each of us if we open our hearts to it.
May Bartimaeus’ words be ours: “My teacher, let me see again”.
Amen.