Sermon, Sunday 25 October: 'Jesus, interrrupted'

Our sermon on Sunday considered different ways of seeing, or not seeing, as we thought about the story of Bartimaeus and Jesus...

READING: Jeremiah 31: 7-9
READING: Mark 10: 46-52

SERMON ‘Jesus, interrupted’
Let’s pray:
May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Just because I can, let’s start this sermon off with a fairly diabolical ‘knock knock’ joke - I’ll need your help:

‘Knock knock’
  [who’s there?]
Interrupting sheep
   [interrupting shee...]    BAAAAH 

Well, I warned you it was bad - or should that be baaaahd.
And I confess, I stole it from 'The Vicar of Dibley'!

Interruptions:
There you are, getting on with doing something
and the phone rings:
probably yet another one of those automated calls that want to sell you a new boiler...
Or you’re off on a jaunt to Edinburgh,
walking along Princes St minding your own business when:
‘excuse me...’
and you’re asked for directions,
or to donate to a charity,
or, at Festival time, find yourself constantly stopped or slowed down
to be given leaflets to this or that or the other ‘truly groundbreaking new show’...
when all you really want to be doing is heading into Jenners or some other
establishment for a cuppa.

Interruptions - they happen all the time,
and we generally respond in different ways
according to the frame of mind we’re in,
and what we happen to be doing at the time.

Our gospel reading this morning is a story of interruption -
and there are a couple of quite different responses to that interruption.
Jesus and his disciples are on their way to Jerusalem.
There are mixed feelings within the group about going there,
and conversations are had about
suffering and pain,
death and resurrection.
It is ...alarming talk.
Conversations too, are had about greatness,
as James and John jockey for positions of favour with Jesus and
seem to miss his point entirely.
Again, suffering features - for greatness is redefined to mean ‘service’,
not ‘Lording it over’ people:
'whoever wants to be great, must become least.'

Their conversations carry them along the road,
until at last they arrive at Jericho.
Our bible passage doesn’t give us much detail at all
of the time actually spent in Jericho, the only detail we have is that,
as they leave, there’s a mention of a large crowd -
‘Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd...
were leaving the city.’
They’re on the outskirts, the margins -
a place we often find Jesus in the gospels.
There, sitting on the roadside,
on the margins, in more ways than one,
is a man called Bartimaeus.
He knows something’s a-stir: he can’t see what’s happening,
but given it’s a large crowd, I suspect they’re not exactly tip-toeing past.
And, I also suspect, that as they make their way out,
conversations begin once more.
‘What do you think he’s up to?’
‘Why are we heading to Jerusalem?’
‘Say, did you check out that great trinket stall in the market-place -
I picked up a neat toy camel for my kid...’
As this large group passes, Bartimaeus works out that in amongst
them is Jesus. He’s heard about this teacher -
from snatched conversations as people walk by,
and maybe in conversations with those who stop to put a coin in his alms-dish:
giving to beggars being seen as an act of piety -
as part of the working out of the commandment to ‘love your neighbour’.

As Jesus, the disciples, the crowd, pass along the road,
a voice cries out and interrupts them as they walk and talk:
‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’
‘Shhhh! Stop it! Be quiet!’ come voices from amidst the crowd.
But the more the disciples, the crowd tell him to shut up,
the more desperately Bartimaeus calls out,
until his cries reach Jesus,
cause him to pause,
and he, in turn calls for Bartimaeus to be brought to him.

It’s interesting - a couple of pages back in the Gospel of Mark,
you have the disciples shooing away the children all eager to see Jesus...
Here again, the disciples are putting themselves into the role of bouncers -
or trying to at least.
Trying to control access to Jesus.
Partly they do this to look after their rabbi and friend -
to protect him a little from the many who want access to him with their vast sea of need -
...but partly, I wonder, is there a small power thing happening?
Might they be trying to show to others their own importance, their status -
which is deemed to be seen to determine who can or who can’t see Jesus?
There’s fascinating undercurrents here, I think,
in the way they appear to try to micro-manage Jesus.
However, as with the children, who Jesus calls to come to him,
so here, Bartimaeus gains access to Jesus.
And the tone of the crowd, the disciples, changes to a hearty ‘cheer up!’
One moment they’re hostile and unwelcoming,
the next it’s all smiles and loveliness -
while probably wondering what on earth Jesus is doing allowing this beggar
to hold him up -
to interrupt his important work...
to interrupt their time with him.

Bartimaeus is not one to miss the opportunity however.  Note how quickly he responds:
‘throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet.’
Let’s pause there for a second.
Bartimaeus is a beggar.
Poor.
He throws his cloak aside.
His cloak.
Probably his most valuable item - possibly his only item.
Valuable to him because it keeps him warm in the winter
and provides shade from the blistering sun in summer -
he may even use it as a blanket within which to sleep.
But faced with the opportunity to see this man Jesus, he doesn’t think twice:
nothing is as important as seeing Jesus.
Another wee detail in this encounter are his words,
interrupting the flow of the group as they move out of Jericho:
‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’
He knows the name of the rabbi.
He believes the stories growing around this man: this ‘messiah’.
He asks for...
well, initially, nothing as specific as being healed from his blindness.
He asks for mercy.
Having got Jesus’ attention, Bartimaeus is then asked:
‘What do you want me to do for you?’
Only then does Bartimaeus become specific: he wants to see.
But in a way - he has already seen more than the disciples,
more than the crowd have.
His faith gives him the ability to see in a way they haven’t yet been able to.
He knows, he understands who Jesus is,
what he might just be able to do.

In this brief encounter, there are many ways of seeing - or not seeing at all.
Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, was virtually invisible to the group
as they passed by - the only way he impinges upon their consciousness
is when he plucks up the courage to shout out.
As they hear, so they are forced to actually see, this man, to engage with him.
Their response to the interruption is not just to ignore him,
but to actively stop him from getting anywhere near Jesus.
He’s an irrelevance.
He’s unimportant.
And, he’s in the way.
They don’t want him here.
The barriers go up so that the darkness can stay.
...But the disciples, and the crowd don’t reckon on a Messiah
who refuses to be micro-managed;
they don’t reckon on a messiah
who pulls down the barriers and invites all who want to approach him, to come near.

I was having a conversation the other day with someone.
As we talked, I noted that something that strikes me, time and time again,
when watching how the church - how Christians -
are portrayed in the news is that so often we see, we hear, the angry voices -
voices trying to shut people down...
redefining the word ‘love’ into some kind of weapon to beat people down,
and keep them in the dark -
the light of God’s love being viewed as something to be hoarded -
as if there’s only so much that can go around.
Time and again, in the media, we see, we hear people professing faith
trying to micro-manage God, acting as God’s gate-keepers,
because perhaps he can’t quite be trusted
on the matter of who he allows to come to him:
heck, he might let anyone in.
Anyone who dares cry out:
‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’

As we think of the encounter between Bartimaeus and Jesus,
perhaps it is good to take stock of our own faith.
Where are we in that story?
Are we in the midst of the crowd, rebuking a blind beggar
on the sidelines for interrupting our special time with Jesus?
Or are we on the sidelines, with Bartimaeus:
either feeling marginalised ourselves or/
standing there, in solidarity with the marginalised,
the sidelined,
the invisible?
Saying ‘I see you - you’re God’s beloved’

Ultimately, this gospel story is one of mercy - of mercy at the margins.
Of seeing those who the world ignores,
those who the world refuses to see.
Of bringing them into the centre and the light of God’s love,
grace, and mercy...
Of seeing, of understanding, that Christ is our light -
and sharing that light with others:
a light that the darkness can never put out,
a light in which there’s enough room for all to shine and
rejoicing that there’s light enough for anyone who dares to cry out:
‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’  Amen.