“What do you want me to do for you?”: a sermon (Mark 10: 46 - 52)

I recently heard a story about a children’s talk based on today’s gospel lesson.  The minister told the children about Jesus meeting the blind man Bartimaeus.  The minister got to the point where Jesus asked Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?”   With great seriousness, she asked the children, “Boys and girls, if you were blind, what would you ask Jesus to give you?”  

One little girl looked at the minister with wide eyes and said earnestly, “I’d ask Jesus for a nice ... little ... dog to lead me around!”

Everyone in the church began to laugh ... everyone, that is, except the little girl’s parents.  She had been pestering them for a dog for months.  Now, she was beginning to enlist the aid of a ... a Higher Power.

Anyway, as we hear about Jesus and Bartimaeus, you may wonder about Jesus’ question to Bartimaeus:  “What do you want me to do for you?”  What do you think?  Wasn’t the answer to that question a bit ... well ... just a bit obvious?  Bartimaeus was blind. ... He wanted to see. ... Why did Jesus ask that question when the answer was so painfully obvious?  I’ll return to this question, but first I’ll tell you another story about a blind man.

There were once two young men named Dan and Earl.  They were university students in the United States.  Dan was blind.  Earl and Dan were the closest of friends.  They did everything together.  One day, they were in Earl’s room, listening to some music together on Earl’s stereo, music of the sort known as “rhythm and blues”, or “soul”. 

Eventually, Dan said to Earl, “Why don’t you turn off that nigger music?  It’s getting on my nerves.”

Earl replied, “Dan, I’m black.”

Dan stormed out of the room, shouting racial slurs and obscenities, obscenities that were vigorously returned by Earl.

“What do you want me to do for you?”

Why did Jesus ask that question when the answer was so painfully obvious? ...  Or was it?

You see, I don’t think the answer was all that obvious.  I believe Jesus needed to ask that question.

Bartimaeus had a certain role in his community.  He was the blind man who sat by the side of the road and begged.  Many people gave money to beggars. ... Some gave out of a sense of compassion for the beggar ... Others gave so they could feel a bit better about themselves. ... They could say things like, “I’m not such a bad fellow, really.  I gave some coins to that blind man by the side of the road the other day.”

Bartimaeus had a certain identity in his community.  People may have said things like:  “Old Bartimaeus there, what a great guy!  Blind as a bat, but do you hear him complain?  Never!  He lost all his sight in that accident a few years ago, but do you hear him complain?  Never!  He went from being a senior hand down at the olive farm to begging by the side of the road, but do you hear him complain?  Never!  I gave him a few coins yesterday and he was so grateful you’d think I gave him the deed to my best vineyard.  Poor old blind Bartimaeus, what a great guy!”

You get the idea. 

Bartimaeus had a certain role in his community.  He had a certain identity in his community.  He had a certain security in his blindness.  By healing Bartimaeus, Jesus had the power to disrupt all of that.  He would gave regained his sight at the cost of his role in society.  So, in his compassion, Jesus asked Bartimaeus for permission to heal him.  “What do you want me to do for you?”

I believe that, when Jesus asked that question, he was not engaged in an exercise in the painfully obvious.  In all his healings, Jesus expressed God’s compassion in the presence of human suffering.  In this encounter, Jesus showed that the divine compassion is also marked by the divine courtesy.  “What do you want me to do for you?”  

“What do you want me to do for you?”:  Jesus asked this question to Bartimaeus. Bartimaeus asked for his sight, despite all the scary changes that this would entail.  And Bartimaeus received his sight.

Returning to my earlier stories, one of them had a happy ending.  The little girl eventually got her dog.

My other story didn’t have a happy ending.  For the rest of the time they spent at the same university, Dan and Earl didn’t speak another civil word to each other.

“What do you want me to do for you?”:  In a way, Jesus asked the same question to Dan as he asked Bartimaeus. 

And to that question, Dan - in a way - replied, “Oh, please, sir, please don’t disturb my prejudices.”   And, as far as I know, those prejudices are still - tragically - intact.

As well, Jesus asks us, every day, “What do you want me to do for you?”