Holy Sight Isaiah 35, Mark 10:46-52

As holy sites go, it is among the holiest.
It is located in the Southern part of the country, rising up out of a city set on a hill.
Pilgrims journey to this holy site in due season rejoicing when they arrive
like those who have been days in the desert coming to an oasis,
they are parched, thirsty for what this shrine has to offer,
and they are rarely disappointed.
I’m speaking, of course, about the Dean Dome in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
What? You thought I meant something else?

The Dean Dome is the center of the Tarheel basketball universe
and North Carolina is one of the blue chip college basketball teams.
Of course, talk to a Spartan fan about Michigan State basketball
or to a University of Connecticut Husky about their hoops program
and they’ll speak of their teams in equally hushed and reverent tones.

These three teams are perennial favorites,
each a basketball powerhouse that strides like a Colossus across the NCAA.
If you filled out the brackets at the beginning of the NCAA mens basketball tournament
chances are you picked one of these three teams along with Duke, perhaps,
or Villanova to go to the Final Four of the NCAA tournament.
You didn’t have to be clairvoyant to make those picks.
But you would have to have a kind of holy sight indeed
to have predicted the George Mason Patriots
to be one of the four teams left breathing the rarified air in Indianapolis
when all but three other teams had been sent packing.

The Patriots are among what are charitably called "Mid-Major" level teams
and they play in the Colonial Conference with the likes of William & Mary and JMU.
Still, head coach Jim Larranaga, in his eighth season with the Patriots, had a vision
and he invited his team to join him in seeing not what had been but what could be.
He said to them, "When everyone thinks of the Final Four they see Duke.
But that’s not important.
What’s important is that when you think of the Final Four, you see yourselves."

In Israel we went to what seemed like a hundred holy sites, none like the Dean Dome,
but holy in their own way, yet we didn’t even scratch the surface.
For instance, we didn’t go to Jericho or venture on the infamous road
between Jericho and Jerusalem.
This twenty-three mile stretch of road climbs 3,300 ft
as it takes a traveler through the mountainous Judean Desert.
This is the treacherous road Jesus uses as the setting
for his parable of the Good Samaritan.
It’s also the last leg of the eighty-odd mile journey from Galilee to Jerusalem
following the Jordan river valley.

You probably remember the song about how "Joshua fit the battle of Jericho"
and how "the walls come a-tumblin’ down."
But 1500 years after Joshua, when Jesus and his disciples passed through
on their way one last time to Jerusalem for the Passover festival,
Jericho was a bustling Roman city,
the site of a winter palace built by King Herod the Great.

Jericho would be a beggar’s mother-lode, a main thoroughfare for throngs of travelers making their trek to the temple, some as many as three times a year.
Furthermore, Jewish custom dictated what they called the giving of alms to the poor
as part of the preparation for going up to the temple.
So, a blind man could do a whole lot worse than sit by the Jericho road,
his cloak spread out around him to catch the shekel and half-shekel coins,
mumbling "toda raba" or "thank you very much"
each time he heard the soft thunk of coin hitting cloth.

Now, beggars were just part of the landscape in Jesus’ day
before the advent of social security disability payments.
They’re still very much a part of life in Jerusalem as they are in our larger cities.
For us the sight of a beggar raises questions we’d rather not have to confront,
questions like, "Why IS there such a gap between rich and poor?"
and "When does my charity hurt more than it helps?"
Though most cities try to keep beggars away from tourist centers
we’ve come to accept it to some degree as long as they don’t get pushy or obnoxious.

Bartimaeus certainly comes across in our story as one of the pushy kind.
At least, that’s what some people must have thought when Jesus passed by
and he started yelling, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"
But when you read this episode of his encounter with Jesus in the larger context,
when you take note of where his story falls in Marks account,
it becomes clear than Mark means for Bartimaeus to serve as more
than just a rude intrusion.
For Mark, Bartimaeus becomes the final exclamation point
in his discourse on discipleship;
a final reversal of what everyone expected,
a man, who, though blind, is clearly blessed with holy sight.

If you read Mark straight through, you realize that the middle of chapter eight
signals a shift in emphasis and content.
Up until that point Jesus has been content to spend his time teaching and healing
in Galilee, attracting crowds, one-upping the Scribes and Pharisees,
But in chapter eight there is this odd vignette in Bethsaida
where some people bring Jesus a blind man and beg him to heal their friend.
He does so, but it’s a two stage healing which Jesus concludes by telling the man
to keep it quiet, not even to go into the village, but just to go home.

After that, Jesus asks the disciples who he is
and Peter boldly proclaims him the Messiah.
But quickly we realize how little Peter or the others
understand what that really means.
Then begins the two chapters in Mark where Jesus makes three predictions
of his own suffering and death,
and he begins to teach his followers in clear, unambiguous terms
what will be expected of them as his disciples.
There are two main instructions about discipleship repeated several times -
1. if you follow me it will mean not glory but sacrifice
2. if you follow me you will be expected to serve others
because in God’s kingdom things are reversed,
children become the chief examples of the attitude God favors
and the first will be last and the last first.

The past few weeks
I’ve preached on each of the three predictions of death Jesus makes
and the inevitable example of how the disciples either ignore or misunderstand
what Jesus is trying to say.
First, Peter and James and John see Jesus transfigured on the mountain top
and all Peter can think to ask is if he should build some shelters for Moses and Elijah.
Next, in Capernaum, Jesus overhears his followers arguing among themselves
about who is the greatest.
After his third prediction of death where Jesus actually describes how his accusers
will condemn him, mock him, spit on him, flog him, and kill him,
James and John STILL come to Jesus and ask him to give THEM the privilege
of sitting at his right and left hands when he comes into his glory.
Don’t forget, it’s also in this section that we’re introduced to a WOULD-BE follower,
a rich man who turns away sorrowful because he can’t part with his possessions.

Then Jesus and his followers come to Jericho,
and like the second bookend to his section on discipleship,
Mark introduces us to Bartimaeus, yet ANOTHER blind man.
Only this time, there’s no keeping the blind man quiet,
no attempt even to hide Jesus’ identity,
In fact, it’s as though Bartimaeus is Jesus self-appointed herald,
proclaiming to all within hearing distance that Jesus is the Son of David,
which is, by the way, a highly charged, ultra-political designation.
Back in Bethsaida it wasn’t the time for such proclamation.
But now, in Jericho,
Bartimaeus is like the sergeant-at-arms of the US House of Representatives
announcing the arrival of the President for the State of the Union Address.
This blind beggar, sitting beside the road is the first one of all who have met Jesus
to call him Son of David, and the time is right as he begins his climb to Jerusalem.

In a foreshadowing of crowds to come, the crowd around Jesus
tries to hush Bartimaeus, quiet the truth about who Jesus is.
But he will not be hushed. He just yells all the louder.
And when Jesus calls him to come, he doesn’t hesitate like the rich man
but throws off his cloak scattering all his coins, all he owns in the dust.
"What is it you want me to do for you?" Jesus asks Bartimaeus.
Do you remember? That’s the same question Jesus asked of James and John
when they approached him to apply for the job of his chiefs of staff.
But, whereas James and John had their sights set on glory,
Bartimaeus just wanted to regain his sight, period.
Jesus proclaims him healed and, without hesitation,
Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way - on the way to Jerusalem,
on the way to the cross.

Bartimaeus is the embodiment, the living object lesson
of what Jesus has been trying to teach his disciples on the road.
He is the least who becomes first.
He is the one willing to give all he has to follow.
He is the one who, though blind, sees more clearly than anyone who Jesus is.
If Presbyterians had patron saints,
Bartimaeus would be the patron saint of all who have been humbled in life.
Those who have been brought low by grief,
or sideswiped by the kind of illness or infirmity
that makes ones own body a stranger, ones own mind the adversary.
He would be the patron saint of every child picked on at school,
every human being held back by discrimination,
every honest worker who refuses to compromise ethics just to climb the ladder.

Contrary to what you may have heard elsewhere,
we stand around God’s table and under God’s cross as equals.
It’s just that those, like Bartimaeus, who have been humbled are more likely
to have gained the kind of holy sight required to perceive that equality.
The Dean Dome will always be a holy site to Tarheel fans, but the George Mason Patriots can tell you it’s not the location but ones vision that really matters.