October 29, 2000

When you pray do you really listen? In the midst of getting your thoughts together to approach God, in the midst of your words pouring out to God, do you pause long enough for God to respond? Is there silence enough to encourage God's response?

You know what I am saying. Surely you have been in a human conversation, perhaps with an individual, perhaps in a meeting of some kind. The speaker is so adept at talking that it seems he doesn't even have to take a breath. Words pour out, sometimes there are questions, you ache to join in the conversation or respond, but the speaker won't shut up (won't even take a breath!). Or maybe, you have used that trick yourself from time to time (mostly because you really didn't want to hear what the other person had to say)?

So it is in our conversation with God, in our prayer. Without knowing it, without planning it, we ramble on. God has no opportunity to really respond. We may leave the encounter saddened by God's seeming silence. Alternatively, we may already know God's response to our prayers but we really aren't ready to hear it or don't want to hear it, so we go on and on with our words, "praying up a storm" as it were, we finish with a quick "Amen" and claim with all innocence that God is just so mysterious, his will for us so elusive.

Today's story, has many possibilities, but let's focus our attention on the Good News about prayer and praying. In the encounter of Bartimaeus and Jesus, we have an opportunity to not only examine our own prayer life (and learn a few things about prayer), but it also gives us an opportunity to examine God's responses to our prayers. The story of Bartimaeus can be our gateway to other stories, and an inspiration for prayer and for our commitment to follow Jesus.

We learn a few things about Bartimaeus in this brief Gospel encounter: he was a blind man (whether from birth or as the result of disease or accident we don't know); in order to survive day by day he begged at the side of the road that connected Jericho and Jerusalem.

He had a good set of lungs—his voice could be heard above the crowd; he could be persistent. We don't really know what he knew about Jesus, although the text hints that he knew enough to maybe hope Jesus would heal him of his blindness (why else be so obnoxious, so persistent, in trying to get the attention of Jesus?). Either he wasn't very practical or he knew a good thing when it came along: his cloak was likely his only protection at night from the cold, and in the day from the ravages of the sun and wind, yet he threw it off, where anyone else could take it, in order to run and meet Jesus. He could follow instructions (told to get up, that Jesus was calling him, he "threw off his cloak—as we just heard—sprang up, and came to Jesus").

And then, the most important quality he has to share with us: we learn that he could be quiet at just the right time. He approached Jesus in silence. Whatever might have been going on in his head or heart, whatever the words on his tongue, whatever the hope, the yearning of his heart, he came before Jesus in stillness and quiet. He let Jesus speak first.

He let Jesus speak first! What a concept. And what thrilling words were spoken into the silence: "What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus is revealed later in the Gospel as the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords. But here he is, a wandering Rabbi, on the dusty road leading to his crucifixion and death, demonstrating the truth of the words he spoke about himself a little earlier: that he has come as one who serves.

Instead of asking what can you do for me? What do you bring me? How will I be enriched by you? Instead of pretending to ignore the shouts of Bartimaeus, instead of being too busy to stop, the Lord of Lords does stop, chooses to stop, invites Bartimaeus over, and asks, what do you want me to do for you? Could our encounters with Jesus be as simple as this? Call out, call out again. Be quiet. Be invited into Christ's presence. Go to him with gusto and with silence. Wait for him to speak.

From Bartimaeus and the road to Jerusalem, join me in remembering other encounters between men and women and Jesus of Nazareth. The pattern of encounter is illuminating and suggests that in our information age, we need to learn silence, and in our cynicism we need to come again to trust the boundless love of our Lord.

Bartimaeus, as far as we can tell, was stuck there on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem. He did not witness any of the miracles reported in the gospels. As far as we know he never heard Jesus teach. As far as we know, he never worshipped with Jesus in the synagogue. We can imagine he heard reports of this Jesus of Nazareth, but, really, who would stop to have an in-depth conversation with a beggar on the side of the road. In his ignorance, and hope, he called out to Jesus. It may have been his salvation. It certainly can be ours.

Of the 12 who accompanied Jesus, the scriptures are vague about whether they knew Jesus prior to his invitation to follow him. He showed up in the workplace, he spoke: "Follow me", they were quiet enough to hear the Lord. They followed.

At the well in Samaria a woman came to get water for her household, a daily task. A boring, exhausting, task that would be repeated the next day. Nothing new under the sun. She wasn't thinking about Messiahs and prophecies, she wasn't in the midst of a grand study of the Law and the Prophets. Chances are very good she had never heard of Jesus of Nazareth. A dialogue began. Then she grew quiet. She listened to Jesus. And her life, and the lives of all in the village were changed as Jesus spoke.

One more. At the crucifixion we are presented a dramatic picture of the importance of silence in the presence of Jesus. The one thief listens as the other berates and taunts Jesus. The listener finally tells the talker to shut up. He speaks to Jesus "remember me when you come into your Kingdom." Probably not the shout and clamor raised by Bartimaeus, probably a whisper, then he fell silent. In the quiet that follows, Jesus speaks to him. He makes an emphatic declaration. The only time in the scriptures that Jesus promises paradise to an individual: "Truly I tell you today you will be with me in paradise."

Yes, we can learn a thing or two about seeking Jesus from Bartimaeus and these others men and women.

The thief was put in the presence of Jesus as a matter of expediency. The Romans had a crew going out to do a crucifixion, might as well take these 2 thieves with them. As far as we know, neither of the thieves requested to be next to Jesus. The woman at the well was doing a daily chore. Jesus found her. Peter and Andrew, James and John, were working. Jesus found them. Matthew the tax collector was working. Jesus found him. Remember Zaccheus? Zaccheus had gotten himself stuck in a tree. Jesus noticed him and came over to him. There was a paralyzed man whose friends sought Jesus and in their faith they brought him to Jesus. Jairus' daughter, you may remember, was dead. Jesus found her, and raised her to new life. Back to Bartimaeus. He was "at work," too. Jesus was walking on the same road. What luck for Bartimaeus (or was it blessing?). Believe me, there is ample evidence that Jesus is seeking you out. Jesus will find you.

It is also true that those who were seeking, who had a need and could express it, who took their cares to Jesus were blessed in the encounter.

Jairus had his daughter restored to him after seeking Jesus and making his need and his faith known to him. Zaccheus got stuck in the tree precisely because he wanted to encounter this Jesus he had been hearing about. Saul of Tarsus, known to us as Paul the Apostle, apparently had been seeking the Messiah for a lifetime. He did not know or did not think Jesus was the one, until after the encounter on the road to Damascus. The bent over woman, was on a quest to simply touch the hem of Jesus' garment. She pushed her way through the crowd in search of Jesus, and was healed. Another woman—whose sins were well known in the village—sought Jesus and forgiveness, washing his feet with her tears and anointing them with perfumed oil. She found forgiveness and reconciliation as Jesus spoke.

Today, let the blind Bartimaeus give you (in)sight. Let his brothers and sisters in the Lord, give you pause in your own prayer life, in your quest to know Jesus and to make him known.

Here are 10 lessons gleaned from this Gospel moment on the road to Jerusalem:

Know when to make a ruckus and when to keep still.

Let the hands and voices of others guide you to Jesus.

Let others keep your face turned to Jesus and keep you oriented to Jesus when you have trouble seeing him.

Trust that he will want to know from you what it is you want him to do for you.

Trust that he will want to do it, he will want to let you know just how precious you are to him;
and how strong his love is for you;
and how powerful his love is to hold you close and hold you up in your weakness;
and how powerful his love is to heal the wounds of your heart, and the hurts of your life;
and how compassionate and forgiving his love is—all your sins are forgiven by his love.

Finally, have sense enough, day by day, encounter by encounter, to do just what Bartimaeus did: follow Jesus on the way. Amen.

The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
29 October 2000