DEEPER CHANGE

NEW RELEASE - From the "Deeper" series: Discover the one to spiritual formation and lasting changhe

Paperback 

or Kindle

Say yes to Students of Jesus in your inbox:

 

SEARCH THIS SITE:

Archive
Navigation
« The Spirit of Christmas (Like, the *Actual* Spirit) | Main | Incarnation: Where Words Fail »

Meditation: Bartimaeus Takes a Risk

From daylight to night it was, all of it, an eternal grey for Bartimaeus.

Only the sounds changed. The days were filled with the noise and activity of men, those who had sight, those who could see to walk, to work, to do. The night carried sounds deep and brooding. Through the stillness and quiet the smallest sound traveled a mile . . . two? Who knows how far?

The rhythm between day-sound and still-night was the only constant he knew. That, plus standing at the same dirty street corner day after day. Begging for coins enough to buy food. Hearing the steps of people who saw him no more than they saw the landscape beyond the city. Fighting off sighted boys with nothing better to do than torment a blind man. For so he was treated. Boys threw stones, people laughed--if they noticed at all. His deformity was proof he was clearly a man under the wrath of God. Why else had he been so afflicted?

Then he began to overhear the talk. People on their way to Jerusalem, pausing to tell stories of a miracle-working rabbi who lived far to the north, in Capernaum, by Galilee. Bartimaeus knew that healing stories traveled quickly and doubled in size for every mile they traveled, yet from his constant grey street corner he marveled to hear of demons flowing from a madman into swine. He tried to imagine a catch of fish so large it took two boats to drag the haul to shore. When he heard that a synagogue leader gambled his reputation by asking this scandalous rabbi to heal his daughter--and then received his child back from the dead--Bartimaeus took note that bold risk could be rewarded beyond all expectation.

The days had melted into awful sameness years ago. His place in Jericho was defined: a wretched man on a wretched street, differing from the dogs only because he begged for money while they begged for food scraps. Worse than a foreigner, he was a deformed and cursed Jew, but a stranger to the promise.

Out of the grey sameness came first the rumors. The miracle rabbi had turned his face toward Jerusalem. He would have to pass through Jericho. Hours later came the sounds a crowd. Dogs barking. Children's voices raised in excitement, and finally the sound of a great many people. If this rabbi existed, he would be in the center of this human storm.

On this day, a day unlike the sad march of all the days, Bartimaeus knew he must take the same risk as the ruler of that far away synagogue. He must be willing to risk the possibility that the stories might have a speck of truth, or risk the ridicule of others. But what is ridicule to a man already cast off by his own people? He must suffer the risk of a beating or being pushed aside and losing his way.

He turned his head to the direction of the sound. He asked no one, and everyone, "What is happening?"

Whether someone answered him or was merely calling out to another, Bartimaeus heard the words, "Jesus of Nazareth is passing by."

He lifted his face and bellowed toward the sky, "Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!"

Nothing. No one noticed, the crowd was still moving.

Again. "Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!"

"Shut up, fool!" said someone. Then a shove. Bartimaeus nearly fell. "Shut up!"

Again. "Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!" He had not rehearsed the words. He had never given them thought. Still he cried the words again. And Again.

Then confusion. More shoving. And again more pushing. He was being pushed intentionally. Rudely, to be sure, but he was being pushed again and again. Guided.

He knew he was among the great crowd, but everyone had stopped. There was an unnatural stillness. Then a hand on his shoulder.

Bartimaeus heard a voice. The man asked question he had never imagined, nor even dared to hope for. Until then, mercy was his only hope. It was a question, but the blind man heard in the question what others had never been trained to hear. He heard from the voice an invitation to speak his most foolish hope. His risk had been rewarded, and the voice was asking him to risk even more. He heard, quite simply,

"What do you want me to do for you?"

Reader Comments (3)

For two minutes this morning I was a blind man sitting on a filthy street corner in Jericho. Thank you, Ray.

December 10, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterEd

Empathy: the gift of sight God freely offers us all by the Holy Spirit who can see where we are blind. His empathy for us undeniably perfected out of the “Incarnation: Where Words Fail”.

December 10, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterHerm

Thanks so much, Ed. It was a useful exercise for me, so I thought I'd share it. I'm so glad you liked it.

Hi Herm: I absolutely love your connection between empathy and sight. Thanks for that!

December 10, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterRay Hollenbach

PostPost a New Comment

Enter your information below to add a new comment.

My response is on my own website »
Author Email (optional):
Author URL (optional):
Post:
 
Some HTML allowed: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <code> <em> <i> <strike> <strong>