Just recently I was watching a movie, and one of the main characters was running through the city, but stopped long enough to put a few dollars into a cup that a scruffy looking man was holding.
“Hey! What’re you doing!” the man yelled. “That was my coffee!”
“Sorry!,” the main character yelled back, “I thought you were homeless.”
Her mistake, of course, was assuming that the man was homeless, based on how he was dressed – and that he needed money. Instead, she ruined someone’s coffee, and possibly even the rest of his day. All because she assumed that she knew what the man wanted or needed, and she acted on that. And if the man hadn’t yelled at her, she probably would have felt great for her charitable act of the day.
It’s assumptions like this that can throw us off track.When we assume that we know what people need or even want, we can act in ways that are actually detrimental to helping others.
In today’s Gospel, we see that a blind man, named Bartimaeus, is yelling after Jesus as Jesus is leaving the city of Jericho. And people tell this blind man to shut up. They tell him to be quiet, and instead, he yells all the more loudly for Jesus to have mercy on him.
So Jesus asks for him to be brought forward, and Bartimaeus comes to him. And then Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”
Now, I can imagine there are a lot of people nearby who are thinking, “What do you mean, ‘What do you want me to do?’ This man is blind. Of course he wants you to heal him so that he can see again.” And they stand there, snickering, or shaking their heads, because Jesus is asking this man a question that obviously has an answer.
“What do you want me to do for you?”
What’s interesting about this question is that it is the same question we heard last week. Two of Jesus’ disciples said they had a question for him, and he turned to them and asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”
Of course, what they wanted was to be great in the kingdom of heaven, and as we learned last week, was that if anyone wants to be great, they need to be the servant of all. These disciples wanted all the trappings of greatness; they desired to be served, and Jesus reminded them that to be great, they would need to be servants.
And what do servants do?
They ask questions. Questions like “What do you want me to do for you?”
Jesus could easily have walked out of Jericho, the celebrity that he was, and could have touched everyone and said, “And you get healed. And you get healed, and you too. Everybody gets some healing today!”
But he didn’t do that. Instead, when Bartimaeus came up to him, he asked him what he wanted. He didn’t assume. He left the choice up to Bartimaeus. Now, when Bartimaeus said, “Rabbi, I wish to see again,” there were probably people scoffing, and saying, “See! Didn’t I tell you! Why wouldn’t a blind man want to see again? Hmm? Why even wait? Why ask? Why not just do what obviously needs to be done?”
Jesus did not just do and act, because Jesus respected this man’s dignity and he wanted a relationship with this blind man. He wanted to know the man, and what this man wanted. He did not assume, but allowed the man to make the choice for himself.
Years ago, I heard a preacher tell a story about how his church had taken it upon themselves to feed the homeless. They packed up food boxes with everything they assumed a family would need or want. Everyone got a box or two, and were told to find people to distribute them to. So this man drove around into the poorer part of the city, until he found the most run-down house he could, and got out of his car with the food box. He decided that in order not to make the person at the door feel ashamed of their poverty, he would ask a question. So when he got to the door, he asked, “Hello, my church has made food boxes for people who are struggling, and could maybe use the extra help. Do you know of anyone who could use this box?” The woman’s face lit up, and she said, “Yes! I do! Come with me.” And she led the man to a house that was even more run-down and destitute. And the family that answered the door there was extremely happy to receive the blessing of the food box. The man, though, admitted that he was humbled by this woman. He had assumed that she would be embarrassed at her poverty, and so he wanted to soften the blow. He had also assumed that she would be thankful for his kindness both in giving the box, and in not drawing attention to how poor she was. Instead, she showed him what it truly means to serve others, even in the midst of her own poverty. In the end, he had to admit that he was suffering from a form of blindness – his vision had been obscured because of his own assumptions.
This blindness, this clouding of our own vision is always a possibility when we are in the position to serve others. Mostly because of our own assumptions or judgments. And what Jesus was modeling for his disciples – and for us – was how to build relationships with those we wish to serve, with those we wish to help, so that we can act on the needs and desires of others, rather than blindly giving what we assume they need. By asking Bartimaeus what he wanted, Jesus built that relationship.
What about the other side of the coin? When rather than serving, we are the ones being served?
I draw your attention to the words that Bartimaeus was yelling.
“Son of David, have mercy on me!”
That title, that acclamation, “Son of David!” was a messianic title. And I have to wonder if the reason that the people were telling Bartimaeus to shut up and quiet down was because he was using this title. That is, he was yelling, “Messiah! Have mercy on me!” and maybe the people around him did not believe that Jesus was, in fact, the messiah, or they didn’t care, because they were after the healing that Jesus brought.
Why would this messianic title be important? Why would it matter what Bartimaeus is saying? After all, isn’t this passage about the faith of a blind man? And how his faith has healed him? Stop for a moment, and ask yourself: how do we know this man’s name? Why do we know that his name was Bartimaeus?
There’s an interesting little phrase at the end of this passage. Jesus says, “Go; your faith has made you well.” And then the passage ends with, “Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.”
Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the way. That is, Bartimaeus became a disciple. He followed The Way. He joined Jesus. Out of all the people in the Gospels who had received healing at the hands of Jesus, Bartimaeus is the only one who is explicitly mentioned as becoming a follower of Jesus. Bartimaeus saw Jesus for who he truly was, and Jesus built and developed the relationship with him, here and as a disciple.
All those other people who followed Jesus around for healing. What did they do? I’m sure that Jesus asked them the same question: “What can I do for you?” And they answered, “Heal me.” And Jesus healed them. But that is all. They took the healing. And the Gospels do not share a record of their lives after that. They took the healing, and departed. They departed because they did not see what Bartimaeus saw.
I have to wonder. Was it because these people saw Jesus only for what he could do for them? Were they blinded to the truth of Jesus because they put more emphasis on the cure to what ailed them, rather than on the identity of the man that stood before them? Were they about what Jesus could do for them, rather than about knowing Jesus? That is, were they more about benefits, rather than a real relationship with the creator of the universe?
Bartimaeus, the blind man, called out to Jesus, the Son of David, the Messiah. Bartimaeus, the blind man, saw the spiritual truth of Jesus before so many others, and he acted on that knowledge of who Jesus was by calling out to Jesus. And Jesus, ever the servant, asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And Jesus returned his physical sight, to match his spiritual vision. Bartimaeus, the blind man, could see clearly what so many others had missed, or ignored, or possibly even ridiculed for the sake of taking what they could get.
Bartimaeus’ life took a turn that day. It started with faith, was built up by relationship, and was ultimately maintained by a continued relationship as Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the way.
And this story of Bartimaeus should give us hope. We probably all know someone who could stand to have that spiritual insight that moves them from blindness into a relationship with the Creator of all, and therefore into a restored relationship with us and with others. They may, for the time being, be like that nameless, faceless crowd of people who took what they could get from Jesus, but never knew him. But if Bartimaeus can go from living in blindness to following Jesus, then we know that everyone has the hope of seeing clearly once again.
We have the example of servant leadership. We know how to proceed. All it takes is our presence. Our presence, and questions. Questions that open the door for a relationship, and understanding.
