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Pentecost 23 Year B

Sunday 27 October 2024
John Conway, Provost

Jesus said, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’
And the blind man replied, ‘Let me see again.’

Pentecost 23 Year B

Jeremiah 31.7-9; Psalm 126; Hebrews 7.23-28; Mark 10.46-52

Jesus said, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’
And the blind man replied, ‘Let me see again.’

We don’t always appreciate the care with which the Gospel writers put together their telling of the good news of Jesus. When they came to write their gospels, about 30 to 40 years after the death of Jesus, the authors made choices from the different sources – aural tales, written accounts of the life of Jesus – that they inherited. Gospels that clearly share a large amount of such testimony and have a lot of material in common - the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke – nevertheless quite often order their material differently. The authors have made different choices about where to place things. Like any good editor they have chosen to put one story alongside another to help the story flow, to make connections, or illuminate a particular point. The ordering of material in our Gospels is not an accident, nor just a reflection of what actually happened – if that were the case our Gospels would be more similar than they actually are. Rather, if we attend to that process of ordering, of the choices that have been made by Matthew, Mark and Luke in the assembling of their gospels, then we are helped to understand better the truth of Christ that they are seeking to communicate.

The problem is that on Sunday mornings we usually get a single episode from the Gospel, divorced from its surrounding material. And so such connections are lost. A week is a long time in politics, they say. Well, it’s equally a long time to remember the Gospel reading. Last Sunday we heard the preceding passage from the Gospel of Mark to today’s story of Bartimaeus, the blind man begging by the side of the road.

But maybe, if you were here a week ago, you remember that the Vice Provost invited us to consider the response made by two disciples, James and John, to a question that Jesus puts to them, after they have approached him. Jesus asks them, ‘What is it you want me to do for you?’ And maybe you remember that, because in today’s Gospel, after Bartimaeus has been encouraged to approach Jesus, Jesus also asks him, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’

It is no accident that we have two stories, side by side, where the same question is addressed to those seeking something from Jesus. ‘What do you want me to do for you?’

And it is worth pondering that question, and the different responses it gets in those two stories, because, in a moment, Spike, and the parents and godparents of Imogen and Murdo, will come forward, seeking for the Spirit of Christ in baptism. And then we will all approach, with outstretched hands, to be fed with the body and blood of Christ in communion together. And, as we approach, our Gospel invites us to ponder that same question of Jesus, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’

Spike, what do you want Jesus to do for you? Parents and godparents, what do you want Jesus to do for Imogen and Murdo? What are we, each, seeking from Jesus? And what might that reveal about us, and the world Jesus invites us into?

Last week, we heard James and John, in response to Jesus’ question, ask for seats on his right hand and left, in his glory. They wanted, from Jesus, to be recognized, to be somebody. And gently, he puts them in their place – and not the place they were asking for. ‘You do not know what you are asking,’ says Jesus.

And in today’s Gospel reading, Mark records a very different response to that same question. A response from somebody who is, in the eyes of many, a nobody. A blind beggar on the side of the road, sternly ordered to be quiet by those who think he is simply a nuisance, and of no account. A beggar who nevertheless recognizes that this is his moment. ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me’, he shouts out. And Jesus stands still, and invites him over. And Bartimaeus, for it is he, throws off his cloak, his outer protective layer, and approaches Jesus, to hear that same question, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ And Bartimaeus doesn’t ask to be made somebody, for he knows he has already been recognized. And he doesn’t ask for seats of power in Jesus’ glory, because that is not what he dreams about. His request is simple and yet life-changing. Bartimaeus wants a different future. ‘Let me see again,’ he asks.

And Jesus tells him, ‘Your faith has made you well.’ His sight is restored and he follows Jesus on the way.

So what might we learn, as we in turn approach Jesus; what might we learn from this nobody, who in Jesus’ eyes is most certainly somebody. What might we learn about how to answer that question addressed to each of us, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ We might learn to come as we are, stripped of our usual protective layers; come as we are, not wishing to be somebody, but because, in Jesus’ eyes, we are somebody. And come in our need, our need for mercy and love. Come, willing and ready, in the first instance, to receive. And come in hope, seeking the gift of a different future. ‘Let me see again.’

And we might find that in bringing ourselves, our need, our hope, our faith, those are the raw materials that God uses to open our eyes to the eternal possibility present in every moment; bring us into that kingdom which is the company of Jesus; bring us, with Bartimaeus, to walk Christ’s way. ‘Your faith has made you well.’

What comes next? What is that way that Bartimaeus, and Spike, Imogen, Murdo, we, are now invited to walk? We won’t actually hear the next passage next Sunday, because we’ve reached in Mark’s Gospel, the end – of Part 1 anyway. What follows this story of Bartimaeus is Chapter 11, is the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem on a donkey. What follows is the beginning of the Passion, of events traditionally recounted in Holy Week. Next week, we’ll be celebrating All Saints, and maybe Bartimaeus will be forgotten. Or maybe not. For Bartimaeus’ desire to see again, and to follow, is how Mark chooses to end his telling of Jesus’ roving ministry. This is the climax, before we plunge into the events of crucifixion and resurrection in Jerusalem.

What do you want me to do for you?
Let me see again
And then we follow Jesus along that way of crucifixion and resurrection. Amen.

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