Our lives are often marked by restlessness, busyness, loneliness, and tension.

Inner peace, serenity and deep joy seem often out of our reach. I think many in our culture have given up on the possibility. Something always seems to be missing; incomplete, broken . . .  simply not quite right.

We know in the depth of our souls that the root of the problem is a spiritual one. We come to this place because we have either found some hope in our faith, or some comfort in being with others who are also searching, or we have found liberation or the beginning of liberation; an awakening, perhaps.

 Because it is so hard to find words for such abstract thoughts, we turn to metaphor:

Here is one that occurred to me on the muddy dirt road to Mule Creek where my family reunion is held:

Life often feels like a dirt road with deep ruts where other wheels have gone, and the ride is bumpy and treacherous if we either follow tracks indiscriminately or try to ignore those tracks and do our own thing. The task at hand for Christians seems to be one of figuring out and following the tracks of our teacher, Jesus . . . . or to put it another way: getting in God’s groove.

Metaphor. Never perfect, but hopefully helpful.

Our text from Job is about getting in God’s groove.

The book of Job is a metaphor for why bad things happen to good people, a question people of faith have struggled with forever.

This ending of Job sounds so much like that old joke:

‘What happens when you play a country-western song backwards?

You get your wife, house, pick-up truck and money back, and the dog comes home.’

Everything is restored to Job in the end, after his terrible trials. It’s metaphor – an ancient people trying to describe how life is better when one finds and follows God’s groove. When Job sees that God has always loved him even in the rough times. When Job understands that not only is God in charge, but that God is merciful (even when it may not seem so) Job’s life takes on a different quality.

Metaphor.

The healing stories of Jesus are metaphor as well.

Something is missing, something keeps people from living full, healthy, peaceful, joyous lives, and they seek out Jesus . . .

They come crippled, unable to hear, or see, or function because they are haunted by something . . .  struggling with something that threatens to overwhelm them.

Today, it is a blind beggar; also metaphors for one who can’t see, and one who has to be cared for by others. Today we know his name. He is the only one healed by Jesus in the gospel of Mark who has a name, so that is notable.

His name is Bartimaeus. Mark, who is so very sparing of words, not only tells us his name, but gives it twice: Son of Timaeus. Obviously the name meant something to the first readers of Mark.

Scholars are divided on what it means. Some say ‘perfect’ others:  ‘unclean’

Other scholars have suggested that this was not the actual son of Timaeus, but a follower of a Hellenist philosopher by that name, as in Gordon Lathrop’s book "Holy Ground:  A Liturgical Cosmology" the author suggests an intentional connection between Bartimaeus and the philosopher Plato entitled "Timaeus."  Mark might have been making a statement about the blindness of that philosophy.

Inability to see, for whatever reason, has Bartimaeus calling out to Jesus for help.

There are times in life when things look dark and bleak. When we use language like: “There doesn’t seem to be any light at the end of the tunnel.” Or “I can’t seem to see my way clearly.”  These are dark times.

We have all been through times of grief, times of illness, times when stress can overwhelm us. Some of us may be in one of those times now. We are human and life is hard. There are those here who are grieving significant losses, who are missing important loved ones, there are those who are going through a divorce or split, or contemplating one or still trying to heal from one, there are those who have major illnesses, or whose parent or spouse has just been given an ominous report from the doctor, someone whose son or grandson may have just been arrested for DUI. There could be someone whose teenager is pregnant or involved in drugs, or someone who has severe financial worries, someone who may be out of work, or whose job is filled with tension or who works for a company that is going bankrupt. The church building was broken into this week, and others may have also been victims of crime, or of accidents. Some may have been victims of racial discrimination or discrimination because of whom they love. We’ve all had to listen to a particularly mean-spirited round of election ads.

Some of us may just be burned out. Things look dark, or bleak. In times like those we lose the ability to see with hope. We lose sight of the light. We may be blinded by despair. We forget that God is there for us, caring for us, loving us, holding us and sustaining us even in the midst of darkness.

We may long to be back in the groove, and regain our zest for life.

Bartimaeus, cries out to Jesus from the darkness, and finds healing and more. He finds a new life.

As my eyes age, I don’t want to down play the importance of eyesight.

But I don’t want us to miss that there are other ways of seeing. There is seeing with our eyes and there is seeing with our hearts. There is being able to read an eye chart and there is the “Oh, now I see!” moment. There is sight, insight, and there is vision.

I think this story is a metaphor for much more than twenty-twenty vision.

Helen Keller once said: “The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight, but has no vision.”

This metaphor is equally applicable to us as individuals and to us as a congregation, as well as for the larger church.

Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, is sitting by the side of the road, when Jesus and the disciples come by. There was no Lighthouse for the Blind in those days, begging was the only way a blind man could make a living. Unless, of course, he had a family to care for him. Ideally, the faith community would have been caring for him, but that was not happening . . . so we know that this man was alone.

Beggars would sit by the side of the road and spread their cloaks over their laps to beg for alms. The spread cloaks made large targets to catch any coins tossed by those passing by. They could toss them at a distance and not have to bend down or get too close or interact with the beggar much at all. It may feel good to help out someone in need, but one wouldn’t want to risk becoming unclean or getting involved.

Bartimaeus knew something about Jesus. He had obviously heard some of the rumors. “When he heard that it was Jesus . . .” he shouted out. He used a Messaianic term: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”

The Messianic term was important to Mark’s early readers. Did Jesus respond to Bartimaeus because Bartimaeus recognized Jesus as the Messiah? Did Jesus even think of himself that way?

In one of Marcus Borg and N.T. Wright’s books: The Meaning of Jesus, he gives a breakdown of four different opinions:

1. Jesus thought he was the messiah, and he was right. Based on what the New Testament itself says, this has been the common Christian position through the ages. A considerable body of scholarship argues for this view.

2. Jesus thought he was the messiah, and he was wrong. Some who hold this position might still grant that he was an impressive historical figure; others would say that he was seriously mistaken, even deluded. 

3. Jesus didn’t think he was the messiah, and therefore he wasn’t the messiah. This sounds like common sense but is actually “fact fundamentalism,” which exists in both secular and Christian forms: if something isn’t factually and literally true, it isn’t true. Secular literalism and Christian literalism share this in common. 

4. Whether or not Jesus thought he was the messiah, he is the messiah. That is, his messianic status and the truth of the exalted metaphors do not depend upon whether Jesus thought of himself in those terms. Whether any of them go back to Jesus or not, they are the community’s testimony to what Jesus had become in their life together.”

(By the way, Wright has chosen the first, and Borg the last. They are in agreement that Jesus is the Christian messiah.)

Whether Jesus knew he was the messiah or not, Bartimaeus believed he was.

Bartimaeus believed Jesus was sent by God, and therefore intimately connected with God. Bartimaeus believed Jesus was in God’s groove, and in shouting out and seeking his mercy, Bartimaeus was also seeking to be in God’s groove.

(Note that he was not a quiet and shy kind of guy. Not meek and mild. He was shouting. He was making a ruckus and I think we need to take note of how many times these troublesome rabble rousers are lifted up for us as examples of the faith.)

“Many sternly ordered him to be quiet.”  the text tells us.

There is always going to be some “sushing” going on! When people seek healing and wholeness, there are going to be those who try to shut them down. Within each of us, there will be a voice of shame when we speak out for what we need and want. Within society, when people speak out against injustice, others are going to try to shut them down. Those of us in More Light Churches have been shouting out for mercy for years now, just as those in the civil rights movement and the women’s movement: “Mercy, a little mercy over here!!”

 And we have been shamed and blamed for doing so. Our text would indicate that we can expect such treatment.

Look what Bartimaeus does after being shushed:

He cries out even more loudly!

“Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus rewards his persistence, his pluck.

Jesus has the disciples summon him.

Now, I think this next sentence is profound:

“Throwing off his cloak, he sprang up, and came to Jesus.”

He left everything in that moment. He left his way of supporting himself. His protection and security. He didn’t fold that cloak carefully and lay it aside in case things didn’t work out. He threw off his cloak. You can almost see the coins flying in the air and falling, scattered in the dust of the streets of Jericho, impossible for a blind man to recover.

 This was risk-taking.

As a stewardship message, it is profound. For stewardship would be so much easier if it were just about giving money to the church. But it isn’t. It is about giving ourselves. It is about committing our lives the way Baritmaeus does: before we can see the outcome. Blindly. In faith. Trusting everything to God. Not giving to a building or giving to support programs or ministries with which we agree, but giving our selves to being in sync with God, even before we know where that might lead us. Committing our hearts to God simply because we hope in, trust in a benevolent God of love and grace. Bartimeaus did that even though he was still in the dark.

He left what held him back and sprang up. I don’t know if you’ve paid much attention to blind people, but they don’t do a lot of things quickly. Nor do we when we can’t see. When the lights are out, we tend to be cautious, right? Gingerly pick our way along, arms outstretched to feel where we are going. It’s frightening to not be able to see.

Bartimaeus comes to Jesus, gropes his way to Jesus.

It must have been awkward. He didn’t care how he looked. And there is a lesson for us in this as well. Especially to those of us who have always tried so hard to get it right and to be perfect in everything we do: let it go. Groping and awkward are okay, and may be the only way to get closer to the Source.

In order to be transformed, in order to grow in our faith, we must step out, and keep stepping out, as Bartimaeus did. We must stretch ourselves to give more of ourselves: time, treasure and talent. We must keep moving forward, beyond our comfort level. We must step up. Risk.

 Bartimaeus finds Jesus even though he can’t see. And Jesus asks him what he wants.

He knows what he wants.

He doesn’t have to think about it. “My teacher, let me see again.”

You see, he had it once. He had vision once. He saw things clearly once. But somehow, he lost it. And he wants it back.

Jesus said to him, “Go, your faith has made you well.”

Bartimaeus was without vision, and without vision, we sit in the dust begging. It is true that without a vision the people perish. We each need a vision for our lives, as well as a vision for the church.

We need a vision the way a plant needs the sun. For vision stretches us beyond what is and helps us grow into the possibilities of what can be. We can imagine, we can dream, we can come up with a million ideas, but vision has the power to create the future.

Vision is not something we can go down and purchase at Wal-Mart or order from a catalog.

Vision is a gift, it is discerned, not demanded. It is given, not grabbed. It comes from God, not from us.

Bartimaeus knew whom to ask. And he was not giving up easily. He was determined. He prayed.

For that is what his shout (now called the Jesus prayer) was: “Jesus, Beloved, have mercy on me.” That is a prayer.

Some of the best prayers are short: “I believe, help thou my unbelief.” “Jesus, Beloved, have mercy on me.”

Bartimaeus knew something about Jesus; he knew something about scripture (or he wouldn’t have known about the messiah) His vision quest began at the source of his faith: at it’s roots. He did not veer from his path. He went to Jesus because he believed Jesus to be sent from God. We are told that given vision, he followed Jesus on the Way. He got his groove back!

James Lane Allen said “The vision that you glorify in your mind, the ideal that you enthrone in your heart – this you will build your life by, and this you will become.”

Bartimaeus had once been given a vision of his life as a blind beggar, a victim of circumstance, and until he met Jesus, he allowed it to shape him.

But he wanted something Jesus had: he wanted to be in sync with a benevolent, caring, merciful God. He wanted to see life differently. He wanted to be in God’s groove. He no longer wanted to be a victim. He wanted to live in the light.

We need vision, but we will not be in God’s groove unless we go through the process of being open to allowing God to reveal that to us.

Like Bartimaeus, we know who we are, we have a name, we have a history. We have a path, articulated in the Guiding Principles of Mt. Auburn Presbyterian Church:

1.  We are STEADFASTLY INCLUSIVE

2. We are GUIDED BY BOTH FAITH AND REASON

3. We are PRESBYTERIAN

4. We are RELATIONAL AND OUTREACHING

5. We are AFFIRMATIVE AND HOPEFUL

         6. We are MINDFUL AND RESPECTFUL

Like Bartimaeus, we long for a even brighter future. And like Bartimaeus, we know that future will be found through the one who has led us this far by faith. We can trust the process. We will have to be committed to an unknown future, able to trust because it is in God’s hands.

If we want vision for our lives and our church, we will have to become quiet and pray for God to show us the way.

All of us.

Daily.

Prayer need not be fancy. It may be as simple as ‘Beloved, have mercy on us.’ Or as primary as “Show us the way you would have us go.”

If there is anything to learn from Bartimaeus, it is that we will have to take some risks in faith. We will have to be willing to leave everything. We will have to be willing to give ourselves, our time, treasure and talents to follow that vision, even before it is given.

Vision follows the expression of commitment.

It is risky, this seeing.

Karl Jung said “Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.”

Are we ready to give ourselves to this process? To awaken?  To live in the light again?

Are we ready to say: We want to see again? Are we ready for where that might lead us? Can we trust in God’s care, love and guidance?

Are we ready to get in the groove with God?