I'm spending a little more time today with one of my very favorite stories from the Gospel acording to Mark, about barTimeus. Yesterday's sermon focused on what we see (or don't) when Jesus calls us to serve someone. We heard about how Plato's Timaeus (one of the must read books of that day) casts light on the plot. If you want to dig deeper into this background, check out Gordon Lathrop's work in his own words, "Holy Ground."
But there's so much more to explore in this story! One of the great subplots is who says what. Mark includes the Crowd as a character in the gospel. I think its a cool way to let us imagine ourselves into what's going on.
As Crowd, I hear barTimaeus cry out to Jesus and then I turn with the others and tell him to "shut up!" As Crowd, I hear Jesus instruct us to "tell him to come here." Its exciting to turn and change the message from "stop" to "go."
Once I've imagined myself into the story, I bring what I've seen back out with me. Then it gets uncomfortable. I have to ask myself, who have I really kept at an arm's length from Christ? And who have I actually invited to come closer?
I'll never forget the first time this dawned on me. As a newly wed in California, I worked behind the counter at a small bakery. Most mornings I'd open while the wiry little baker of uncertain age and multiple stories produced tray after tray of fresh donuts. One very early morning, about 4:30 am , as I was shuttling trays of fresh donutes to the display cases, he stopped me and asked, "why are you always so happy and so peaceful?" I stopped dead in my tracks. Trained not to make others uncomfortable by pushing my religous views on them, I finally said, "I guess I was just raised that way." Which is partially, but far from completely, true. The joy in my life is, was, and always will be Jesus-source of everything good in my life.
Ouch. I'd denied Christ and kept a seeking soul from him in one quick sentence. Why is it so easy to throw that bushel down over the light and so threatening to let it shine? Its easy to sing "Oh, How I Love Jesus" in church. Why is so hard other places these days? In "A Secular Age, the great living philosopher Charles Taylor describes how our shared environment (our marketplace, to use biblical language) has shifted from a norm that assumed religious practice to one that assumes doubt. Most people still say they believe in God. But since doubt is the norm we assume other people don't want to hear about our faith, even when they ask a question that invites a straight answer, like my baker friend.
When I read Bartimaeus' story with my own eyes opened, I see that I cultivate blindness in more ways than I'd like to admit. Thank God I can still hear Jesus calling, "what do you want me to do for you?" Today, my answer is, "help me find ways to authentically share your love with those who seek it." What's yours?
But there's so much more to explore in this story! One of the great subplots is who says what. Mark includes the Crowd as a character in the gospel. I think its a cool way to let us imagine ourselves into what's going on.
Once I've imagined myself into the story, I bring what I've seen back out with me. Then it gets uncomfortable. I have to ask myself, who have I really kept at an arm's length from Christ? And who have I actually invited to come closer?
I'll never forget the first time this dawned on me. As a newly wed in California, I worked behind the counter at a small bakery. Most mornings I'd open while the wiry little baker of uncertain age and multiple stories produced tray after tray of fresh donuts. One very early morning, about 4:30 am , as I was shuttling trays of fresh donutes to the display cases, he stopped me and asked, "why are you always so happy and so peaceful?" I stopped dead in my tracks. Trained not to make others uncomfortable by pushing my religous views on them, I finally said, "I guess I was just raised that way." Which is partially, but far from completely, true. The joy in my life is, was, and always will be Jesus-source of everything good in my life.
When I read Bartimaeus' story with my own eyes opened, I see that I cultivate blindness in more ways than I'd like to admit. Thank God I can still hear Jesus calling, "what do you want me to do for you?" Today, my answer is, "help me find ways to authentically share your love with those who seek it." What's yours?
