God’s grace, peace
and mercy be with you. My sermon title is CCD. My focus is our Gospel (Mark 10:46-52).
Let us pray. Heavenly Father, the psalmist wrote, “I
rejoiced when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” Now
that our feet are within your gates, we rejoice to hear your Word. As we
listen, may your Spirit enlighten our minds and move our hearts to love deeply
as Jesus loved. This we pray to you, Most Holy Trinity. Amen.
CCD stands is
short for a few topics. If you grew up Catholic and attended public school, you
probably attended CCD or Confraternity of Christian Doctrine class. If you work
with digital cameras, you may know that CCDs are sensors used to record still
and moving images. If you are a public-school educator, you may access the
Common Core of Data, the Department of Education's primary database on public
education in the US. Maybe your vet understands CCD as canine compulsive
disorder, a behavioral condition in dogs, similar to human obsessive-compulsive
disorder (OCD).
I am not talking
about religious education, cameras or canines. Today, CCD stands for Call,
Clothing and Dialogue. Bartimaeus’ call to Jesus, the clothing he wore and the
dialogue between the Lord and the blind man. After all that, a quiz.
To call means to
cry out, summon, invoke, demand, order or give a name to from the early
Germanic kall meaning to speak, say or tell. When I call my wife to
get her attention, I can walk into our house and shout, “Cindy!” If I am
outside and Maggie does not respond to me calling her, I can press a button on
a remote that activates a stimulus device on her e-collar. It vibrates and she
returns to me. If I’m sitting in the bleachers, I wave my arms while holding
cash to get the attention of the popcorn vendor. Before texting, I might have had
someone paged.
In our Gospel
today, Bartimaeus calls to Jesus. Notice that Jesus was leaving Jericho for
Jerusalem with his disciples and a sizeable crowd. Jesus was on the way.
Bartimaeus was by the roadside. He was not going anywhere. He was blind. His
blindness was symbolic of the blindness of all who have not had their eyes
opened in faith by Christ.[1] He sat by the road begging
pedestrians for money. Hearing that Jesus of Nazareth was nearby, he called out
to him. In spite of those surrounding him who tried to silence Bartimaeus, he
persisted.
Note that Mark
introduces the blind beggar as Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. It is the same way
that he introduced us to James, son of Zebedee. The father was better known
than the son, but it could also be a parallel designation. The son of Timaeus
called the Son of David. In short, Bartimaeus was the son of an unknown father
with a Greek name. Jesus was the son of King David.[2]
So, Bartimaeus
called out, “Jesus, Son of David,” but the second time he called,
he used only the title – Son of David – and not the name – Jesus. Why did Mark
record the call like this? This title was not used in early Christian writings.
We find only one reference in Paul. He wrote in Romans 1 that God’s Son, Jesus,
“descended from David according to the flesh and was declared
to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his
resurrection from the dead.”[3] Mark used it two other
times.[4] His aim was to purify the
title of any hope for a restoration of David’s earthly kingdom. He did the same
with another title – Christ – as he associated it with the dying and rising of
the Son of Man. The title Christ was purified of all political and military
expectations.
Bartimaeus’ call
is a plea for pity well known among Jews. It is used nearly 20 times in the
Psalms. In Psalm 6, it is a prayer for healing. In Psalm 26, a prayer for
redemption; in 27, for salvation; and in 51, for forgiveness. In short,
Bartimaeus’ call was a prayer. And while many rebuked him, Bartimaeus persisted
in his call, in his prayer – to God!
Now, let’s move to
my second C, Clothing. How often have you been confronted by beggars? Not many
beggars outside of Pittsburgh. Other than someone holding a sign at an
intersection, where have you seen one around here? And those we do encounter
are quite tame compared to the ones I met in San Francisco. I mean, even 14
years ago when I lived in the Bay Area, beggars confronted pedestrians within
seconds of them emerging from a BART station (which has nothing to do with
Bartimaeus). They were so obnoxious that even the beggars in Berkeley, where I
worked, viewed them with disdain.
Bartimaeus, on the
other hand, showed amazing energy and quickness. Immediately, he jumped up like
a Jack Russell Terrier and ran to Jesus. But before he did that, Mark recorded
that he threw aside his cloak. Street people do not cast away clothing – even
tattered rags – until they have something better. But this man was no ordinary
beggar. He wanted something more valuable than his most prized possession.
This beggar pinned
all his hopes on Jesus. All of them. He hoped against all hope that Jesus would
provide everything he needed. Everything. And somehow, he knew that with Jesus
he would no longer be a beggar.
In Biblical
culture, clothing expressed a person’s identity. It was a personal symbol and
played an important role in someone’s self-communication.[5] Bartimaeus wanted to join
Jesus and his disciples on the way. To do this, he had to throw off his cloak,
symbol of his former self and way of life, because he is following Christ on
the way to his passion-resurrection. And no one, said Jesus, sews a piece of
unshrunken cloth to an old cloak.[6] Becoming a disciple of
Jesus meant more than patching up your old identity. It called for throwing off
that identity for good and putting on a new one.[7]
Early Christians
applied putting off old clothing and putting on new clothing in the baptismal
rites. For Bartimaeus, putting off his old cloak for something new meant that
he was ready to join Christ on the way to his death and resurrection. For us,
it means the same because of our baptism. Well, I am not a clothes hog or a
fashionable dresser, and I don’t have much else to say about clothing. So,
let’s proceed to my third point, Dialogue.
A dialogue can be
a written composition in which two or more characters are represented as
conversing or a conversation between two or more persons. The Greek word dialogos means
conversation, and is formed by joining the words dia meaning
across (diagram, diaphragm, etc.) and legein meaning to speak. The
dialogue in our passage goes like this.
Bartimaeus: “Jesus,
Son of David, have mercy on me!” “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Jesus: “Call
him.”
Disciples: “Take
heart. Get up; he is calling you.”
Jesus: “What
do you want me to do for you?”
Bartimaeus “Rabbi,
let me recover my sight.”
Jesus: “Go
your way; your faith has made you well.”
The dialogue
between Jesus and Bartimaeus opens with an introductory question: “What do
you want me to do for you?” It is a strange question to ask a beggar. Why
not, “What do you want me to give you?” But the man was not asking for
money; he was ready for anything Jesus could do. Of course, he was. He gave up
his only possession.
Bartimaeus’
response was specific. While our text uses the word rabbi, better translations
use Rabbouni, the equivalent of Kyrios or Lord. To the point, the
man wants to recover his sight. He was not always blind, but wanted to see
again. Until now, Bartimaeus was not on the way with Jesus, but having thrown
off his cloak, he was eager to see where he was going with Jesus.
To the ordinary
reader of Mark, it may seem that Jesus ignored Bartimaeus’ request when He
said, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” Yet, the word “go,” was used
in the sense that Bartimaeus was healed. It is no ordinary dismissal that a
supervisor would say to an employee for it is grounded in what Jesus did. The
man’s faith saved him.
There you have it:
CCD – Call, Cloak and Dialogue. Now what? Now, let’s look at a few other people
Jesus met on the way to Jerusalem beginning with the first blind man. I want
you to go back and read Mark 8:22-10:52 and see the many characters Jesus met
on his way to Jerusalem. Here, now, is my quiz.
Am I like any of
them? Am I blind like the two men who bookend this section? Am I comfortable or
obtuse like Peter? Addicted to my way of thinking, acting and living like
James, John and the other disciples? Paralyzed like the possessed boy’s father
crying out to help my unbelief? Addicted or in love with worldly possessions,
prestige or power like the rich man who walked away from Jesus’ offer for
eternal life? Am I doubtful like those wondering if Jesus’ offer is too good to
be true – that I will receive a hundredfold more if I follow him? Do I try to
influence or intimidate others who cry to God for pity? Have I reached a point
of desperation, but fear calling out to Jesus? Or are there days when I just
don’t love my neighbor and God very much?
Folks, when you
turn to Christ in prayer, you’re not asking for help from one with political or
military power. You’re not begging from one rich and famous. When you call to
Christ, you’re speaking to a man stripped of all clothing and human dignity,
one weak and nearly dead, one scorned and spat upon, forsaken by friends and
followers. And you must wonder what this man can do for you.
In the end,
Bartimaeus received his sight and followed Jesus on the way. He joined the
Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Man as a servant and a slave. Bartimaeus
showed that giving up everything to be saved and receive a hundredfold in the
present age and the age to come was worth it. He would enter the kingdom of God
because, in giving up everything, he accepted the kingdom like a child.
Everything became possible because he had faith and turned to Christ in prayer.
Friends, I close
with this. Today, we observe Reformation Sunday. Throughout his lifetime,
Martin Luther taught a great many people so much about God’s love, grace, mercy
and what faith means in the shadow of Christ’s cross. He criticized popes and
priests, praised his wife, family and friends. He said many things that people
remember – “Here I stand.” – “Peace, if possible, truth at all costs.” – and
many others. But perhaps the most important words were not posted on a church
door or printed in a book. The words were scribbled on a note found in his
pocket after he died. “Wir sind pettler, hoc est verum” “We are all
beggars, this is true.”
Today, take time
to dialogue with God about your need for mercy. Listen to Him speaking to you, and
when you do, may the peace of God that surpasses all understanding, keep your
hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
[1]
Eugene LaVerdiere, Mark. 122.
[2]
LaVerdiere, 122.
[3]
Romans 1:3-4.
[4]
Mark 11:10; 12:35-37.
[5]
LaVerdiere, 127.
[6]
Mark 2:21.
[7]
LaVerdiere, 127. If you want to read more about clothing, I encourage you to
turn to four passages from Paul Galatians 3: 26-29; Romans 13:12-14; Colossians
3:9-11; Ephesians 4:20-24.
