Changed Lives: The Rich Man and the Blind Man
Changed Lives: The Rich Man and the Blind Man
Mark 10: 17-31 and Mark 10:46-52
I’ve always loved a good road trip. For most of my life, my favorite place in the world has been 550 miles away. No matter how restrained you are about stopping, that’s a solid 10 or 11 hours of driving and watching the world go by. If you’re traveling solo, you can listen to a lot of music or listen to a whole Audible book or just review your entire life. If you have someone riding with you, it’s enough time to solidify a new friendship or to renew your connection with the people who “ride” with you through your life every day. When you’re on a road trip, you’re free!
A good road trip has a beginning and a middle and an end. There are things that stand out along the way: the gigantic elephant who wears pink sunglasses and stands next to a Shell station; a little bar that stands in the middle of nowhere called “The Pink Poodle” and is a beacon of hope that Wisconsin is almost over; that first view of Lake Superior as you come over the crest of that hill and you wonder, “Is that the lake or are those clouds?” It’s like a pilgrimage.
The Gospel of Mark is one big road trip. It’s not a car trip or a motorcycle trip or a bike trip. No, every step of this journey is made on foot (except for a few miles ridden on the back of a donkey.) In Mark’s gospel, the story begins not with a Christmas narrative but with a grown up Jesus encountering John the Baptist. After a walk in the wilderness (a vision quest, if you’re into indigenous religious practices), Jesus just starts walking from town to town. He teaches. He preaches. He heals. He meets a ton of people. The whole Gospel is the story of what happens, “en to hodos,” “along the way,” the phrase Mark uses again and again.
In truth, Jesus’ trip is more of a spontaneous parade than a road trip. Jesus rarely travels by himself. He picks twelve men to walk with him—each of whom hear Jesus’ calling to follow him and accept that calling. There’s an incredible group of women who choose to follow him along the way, too. They are an essential part of the Jesus’ core followers. Beyond that, at almost every town, there is someone or maybe a group of “someones” (usually, they are “nobodies”) who join the parade. Most people, though, are entertained and amazed and feel called to join the parade but they think about it and decide, “Not today…
For several years, the overwhelming question on every follower’s lips had to be, “Where are we going?” But, if you think about it, this is the universal road trip question. “Where are we going anyway?” “How much longer is this going to take?” “Are we lost?” On a road trip, you have to learn to live with the questions. Road trips are at least as much about what happens along the way as they are about reaching some destination.
We know where the road ends because we’ve heard the story. Mark’s readers would have known where the road ended, too: Jerusalem. Certainly, Mark jars us by starting with the grown up Jesus. At times, Jesus and the followers seem to be practically running along the way. Mark just pushes us from town to town. Jerusalem looms larger and large on the horizon. Still, though, Mark’s Gospel doesn’t start with Jesus on the cross. Even though lots of Christians today would say that Jesus on the cross was the whole point, Mark wants us to see that there is more to the story.
The story for Mark is of a Jesus who meets people along the way and challenges them to make a choice. Some choose to follow and join the parade. Most people say no. By the time we get to our texts, Palm Sunday, the final parade, is right around the corner. There’s not much time left. Every person who encounters Jesus has to choose: “Are you in or are you out? Are you coming or are you going to stay?”
This morning, you heard Mark’s account of Jesus’ encounter with two men. The first man is a rich man. People would have recognized his status in a flash. He would have worn an elaborate robe. He would have carried himself with the confidence that someone has when they know that they live at the top of the hierarchy. More simply, this guy is cocky because it’s a given for him that he’s just better than you. It’s not personal, though. He’s pretty sure he’s better than everyone.
The rich man walks straight up to Jesus (like all entitled rich people do), displays all the social graces of the upper crust, and “shmoozes” Jesus as, “good rabbi,” “good teacher.” (Can you hear the crowd mumble and groan: “What a jerk!”) Then, the guy essentially asks about his “long term, eternal retirement plan”: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” The rich man is taking his “portfolio” to another “consultant” to make sure that he hasn’t missed anything: “What do you think about bitcoin, Jesus?”
So, Jesus reviews things with him. Essentially, Jesus names a few of the Ten Commandments. Interestingly, Jesus lists the commandments that protect life in community (no murder, no adultery, no stealing, no lying, no cheating, be nice to mom and dad.) What Jesus omits are the commandments that have to do with our relationship to God. Jesus is implying that what is missing in the man’s life is any relationship to God. (Of course, it’s hard to worship God if you spend your days worshiping yourself!)
The rich man smiles and says, “This may sound crazy Jesus but I’ve already passed your test. I’ve ticked all those boxes.” Of course, while this is possible, it may not be that much of an achievement for someone who has all the advantages in life. There are rich people who murder people but not that many. If they wanted someone dead, they’d hire someone. How often does a rich person have to steal, unless of course we count the folks for whom being rich isn’t enough so they steal in “white collar” ways and almost never go to jail. “Nope Jesus, I haven’t done anything awful and I’ve taken good care of mom and dad.” It turns out this man is both rich and spiritually blind!
That’s not what Jesus sees, though. Mark tells us that Jesus looks into the rich man’s eyes…and loves him. (Man…this Jesus guy is a tough savior to follow. He actually does what he tells us to do.) Jesus feels empathy for the rich man precisely because he is spiritually blind. The man cannot see what’s missing, although the sense that something is missing in his life may be what brought him to Jesus in the first place. Jesus reveals the rich man’s spiritual blindness with a challenge: if you want to be perfect, sell everything you have and give the proceeds to the poor. In that moment, the man has to see that who he’s been worshiping (himself) and what his idol has been all along (the security that his money provides.)
Thought we’re not rich people, the rich man is us in this moment. We think we’ve got it all together. We think we’re the masters of our own little universe. We think that the puzzle pieces are all in place. We are temporarily spiritually blind and perfectly content. Then, life says to us, “Look again!” We realize something is missing. We hear a higher calling to make a change, to do something new but we balk because we can’t do anything that would endanger our need for control: “I can’t do this.” A nausea grows deep inside us. So we stand next to the rich man and shake our head with him. Neither of us will be joining the parade.
Here’s the next guy we meet. Jesus is leaving Jericho. (I know…last weeks sermon, right!). The parade is so much bigger than when they arrived. Along the way, there’s a blind guy named Bartimaeus. This poor guy had lost his sight a while back, which everyone knew must be a sign that he had done something terrible to offend God because everyone needed to be reassured that they would never lose their sight like him. The problem, though, is that Bartimaeus had never been a nice, polite, cursed person he was supposed to be. There were rules for this after all. Cursed people should be quiet and remain out of sight. If they follow these rules, then maybe we’ll throw them a coin. Trust me…it was no surprise when Bartimaeus raised a ruckus: “Oh God…not him again!”
As Jesus passed by, the town freak just stood there, shouting for all he was worth: “Son of David, Jesus, Mercy! Have mercy on me!” Unlike the rich man, there is nothing smooth about
Bartimaeus. Everyone tries to ignore him. They, a few people try to shut him up. This just makes him louder: “Jesus, have mercy on me!” The increase in volume just leads everyone around to be that much more uncomfortable. Unlike us, though, Jesus seems drawn to uncomfortable spaces, maybe because discomfort is what precedes change. While we worry that our discomfort will last forever, Jesus sees a golden opportunity. So, Jesus does the unthinkable. He tells the crowd to bring the blind man to him. Do you see it? The blind man calls to Jesus first and then Jesus calls the blind man to him. Jesus looks into those blind eyes and asks, “What can I do for you?”
Consider what’s happening here. The rich man thought he had it all together. In contrast, the blind man is desperate for help. After a life time of being told that his blindness was God’s curse, Bartimaeus still doesn’t buy that theology. Instead, in the first step of faith, he cries out for help. He doesn’t cry out to Jesus, “You owe me!” He cries out, “Help me…please!” The essential thing isn’t to make everyone else comfortable. The essential thing is to connect to the one who is merciful and compassionate. Jesus hears him and calls him. Bartimaeus comes to Jesus. That’s faithful act number two. And, after Jesus asks, “How can I help you?” Bartimaeus dares to lay his hope on the line: “Jesus…I want to see again. I want to live again. I want to be whole.” This is Bartimaeus’ leap of faith.
Jesus restores the man’s sight. I want to be honest. Though I have always had pretty good vision, I have lost my spiritual sight over and over again. So, if you’re stuck on the mechanics of this miracle, I hope you will take a moment to consider your own moments when you realized you were “blind but now I see.” Jesus tells the man that his own faith has saved and healed him, maybe because if he didn’t buy the notion that his struggles were God’s punishment or that the point of life was to never make anyone uncomfortable or that he really had no right to bother Jesus much less to ask him for help. The man didn’t give up hope or let go of the notion that change was possible. Maybe that’s what lived faith looks like in the end.
Jesus tells the formerly blind man, “Go your own way now…” “Go where you need to go.” What does Bartimaeus do? He joins the parade. He steps right into line. And I suspect with all my heart, that he began to proclaim in that same loud voice, “Do you people know who I’m following here? Have you seen what this man can do?”
All the while, Jerusalem, hovered on the horizon. I bet Bartimaeus made it every step of the way, following the man who cared, the man who looked into his blind eyes and loved him and made him brand new.
Some road trips change your life forever…