Mark 10:32-52 - February 25, 2024

If it feels like we’ve heard this story before, that’s because… we kinda have. Through the past several weeks, we’ve witnessed a recurring pattern: Jesus predicts his suffering and death; and the disciples, time and time again, fail to grasp the gravity of his words. Often, they royally screw up their response. 

Going back a couple of Sundays, Peter confesses, “You are the Messiah!” Jesus then gives his first prediction: being the Messiah means “go, suffer, die, rise.” “No way, Jesus!” Peter rebukes. It's rarely a smart thing to rebuke Jesus.

On Ash Wednesday, Jesus tells the disciples again that he will be betrayed, killed, and then rise. So, naturally, an argument breaks out among the disciples about which one of them is the greatest. 

And today, we get Jesus saying that he must go to Jerusalem, be handed over, condemned, mocked, and killed. And then, after three days, he will rise again. And this time… well, we’ll get there in a minute.

If there was a wall nearby, I am sure Jesus was banging his head against it. But after each screw-up, Jesus takes the disciples back to the basics of what it truly means to be the Messiah. 

Today, we get two scenes following Jesus’ third prediction, and they are tied closely together by one simple thing: Jesus’ question, “What do you want me to do for you?” It’s as if we are supposed to compare the different responses to that question. So, let's do just that. 

First, James and John come forward: “Teacher, we have something we want you to do for us.” “What do you want me to do for you?” They want to sit at the highest places of honor. They still think that the Messiah isn’t going to suffer and die, that the Messiah deserves a hierarchy of assistants, and that he surely will indulge their cravings for prestige and privilege. Which isn’t what Jesus came to do at all. He came to serve. He came to give his life as a ransom for many. And the disciples don’t see what in the world he’s talking about. 

In the next scene, we meet Bartimaeus, a blind man. He calls out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus calls him over and asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” “Let me see again.” Jesus grants his request, restoring his sight, and Bartimaeus begins to follow Jesus. 

Quite the contrast, right? In both scenes, the characters understand that Jesus is the Messiah, but they respond in two different ways to what that means. It would seem that the disciples are more blind than the blind man. James and John, though physically seeing, were spiritually blind; Bartimaeus, though physically blind, was spiritually seeing. 

So, I have what, on the surface, sounds like a dumb question, but it gets to what we really want to know about this passage: how do we see like the blind man? We want faith like that, faith to see Jesus for who he is, faith that doesn’t keep quiet, faith that jumps up with trust in Jesus, faith even if one can’t see what is right in front of them. 

Unfortunately, many times, we are like the disciples — we just don’t understand.
We maintain a super-safe faith, where we say the right things about Jesus, but words often fail to transform us into people who live differently, with actions reflecting the ways of the Messiah we confess.
Like the disciples, we affirm that Jesus is the Messiah, yet we wonder about our place and question the place of others. 
We profess Jesus as the Messiah but often ignore his teachings on greatness, service, and the nature of being first and last. Somehow, we treat all of this as if it's a personal, private matter, separate from real-life implications. Does faith have no public consequence at all? 

Faith in Jesus goes beyond mere words or superficial optimism. Even the disciples, Peter especially, have professed the right beliefs. But being close to Jesus isn’t about wanting a place of power or honor or being great. Jesus repeatedly says to stop thinking like that. 

Faith in the Messiah, from what we read today, looks like the blind man, Bartimaeus. He gets it right, right after the disciples get it so wrong. So, back to my dumb question: how do we see like the blind man? 

First and foremost, Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is. He calls him, “Son of David,” which is a rather royal title, drawing on the name of Israel’s greatest king. The implications of this title will become more clear as the story progresses toward Jerusalem, but for now, we’ll just say that Bartimaeus knew Jesus to be a chosen one from God and sees royal dimensions to Jesus’ identity. 

Jesus, the Son of David, is the Savior who grants mercy, healing, and wholeness. The blind man never loses sight of that. 

Next, Bartimaeus is acutely aware of his own shortcomings and recognizes his need for Jesus. That may seem like an obvious thing, that a blind man would know he needs Jesus’ help, but at least he knows he needs it. The jump to our lives isn’t so hard. When we don’t see our need, we don’t see our need for Jesus. When we don’t see our need, Jesus becomes a giver of privilege instead of the granter of mercy. 

In our needs, where we are lacking, where we need forgiveness, Jesus gives us mercy. We all have our blind spots, our failures, our inadequacies. As we acknowledge our need, we acknowledge we need Jesus. Only Jesus. 

Third, Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way, even when the way leads to a difficult situation. His words, his awareness, his faith led to action - not a seat at the right or at the left - but action that headed toward sacrifice, suffering, and the ultimate service to others. Faith means following. It is moving from alongside the road to walking on the road with Jesus. And that way takes us to places where we can serve. Where we are a slave to all. Where we give. 

That’s how one sees like a blind man.
Know who Jesus is - God’s chosen. Know who you are - one who is in need. Know what Jesus will do - grant mercy, look toward the least, and choose to be a servant of all. And then, follow along. 

This isn’t something we see too terribly often - especially by those who tout how faithful they are. And it’s a faith that we, me included, don’t have too often. 

And yet, that is why Jesus comes to us, isn’t it? Because we so often forget how to respond. 

Whether we are healed or in need of that healing, whether we are servants or learning how to serve, whether we are self-aware or self-important, Jesus will teach us along the way about death and life, about cross and tomb, about the first being last. He’ll open our eyes to new realities and invite us to follow. 

He knows we feel inadequate - though we don’t often admit it. He knows what we need, even if we turn a blind eye to our shortcomings. He knows we’ll look for the wrong rewards. We’ll ask some dumb questions along the way. Jesus may even bang his head against the wall… but he won’t stop teaching us, serving us, and showing us grace and mercy.

He’ll keep sharing himself with us - in a meal, in a splash, in a word of grace - all so we can see again who he is. He’ll keep teaching, leading, guiding, and transforming us - from a state of spiritual blindness to seeing fully. 

And he’ll do it again. And again. And again.

Because that’s what it truly means to be the Messiah.