22nd Sunday after Pentecost, Year B
Donna G. Joy

 Job 42:1-9; Psalm 34:1-8; Mark 10:46-52

The culture in which we live teaches us that strength and beauty, power and success are to be highly revered. I think we are so influenced by this teaching that we are terrified by those things which put these perceived and seemingly important values at risk. Illness, financial stress, broken relationships, loss of job security, the sometimes painful process of aging... These are simply a handful of circumstances that put those values at risk and we often respond in ways that are destructive... sometimes to ourselves, sometimes to others, and often to both. But this is where we, as a Christian people, need to recognize that our faith – particularly the vulnerability of Jesus - shatters this cultural mindset; our faith teaches us that (while God does NOT create suffering), God enters into those most broken and vulnerable places and fills us with grace, and love, new insights and new possibilities. Because when we experience those vulnerable times, we are gifted with a greater openness to the gift of God’s Presence in our lives. (We don’t always have eyes or hearts to see this, but this is one of the core teachings of our faith.)

Our first reading this morning takes us into the final chapter in the Book of Job, where there is a recognition that God enters into that which is vulnerable, and broken, and small, working the miracle of new life and new insights. Job had, after all, before all his calamities, lived a faithful, yet prosperous, life, but it was only when he was struck by hardship that he was (as Anne of Green Gables would say) “thrown into the depths of despair.” Throughout all of this Job wrestles with God’s place in all of this, and he wrestles with his friends who tend to raise all sorts of theological platitudes, as people, unfortunately, often tend to do.

I think the key to one of the primary points in the Book of Job is found when Job says to God, “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.” It is like having heard about someone, or in the case of someone fairly famous, having read all about them, and then finally meeting that person for the first time. You may feel as though you know all sorts of things about that person, but then you become so much more intimately acquainted when you meet him/her face to face. This, I think, is what Job is saying here. In other words, “God, when I was strong and prosperous I knew a lot about you, but now that I have found you in the midst of my suffering, I see you. It’s like I have finally, really, truly, met you for the very first time.”

Ann Garrido, Catechesis of the Good Shepherd Catechist, says, “...there is a difference between knowing about Jesus, and knowing Jesus. I think this is one of the greatest challenges within the life of the church. We often know and learn a lot about God made known through Jesus, but we struggle to find ways to know him; really know him with the kind of intimacy that Job was to discover. This, by the way, is the gift our children are receiving in the Atrium through the Catechesis. In the Atrium they are in an environment that has been intentionally designed so that they may discover the experience of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who loves and cares for them, unconditionally.

For Job, having discovered God in the midst of his pain and loss, grief and brokenness, he now could see God, actually experience God, in new and astonishing ways. It is interesting to note that it was only when Job was able to see God, and the greatness of God, in the midst of his suffering that he was able to move beyond the agony of utter personal despair. Job was able to move beyond his self-indulgent focus on himself once his eyes and heart were opened to the greatness of God.

Walter Brueggeman reminds us that scholars for the most part tend to situate Job’s story within the context of the exile. At a time when the Israelite people had lost everything and were living in exile under horrific circumstances, Job’s story was intended to serve as an inspiration. It was intended to offer comfort and hope that God can be found and seen in the midst of weakness and vulnerability; in the midst of the trials of this life. God takes that which is broken and small, enters into it, and creates something new with greater insight and depth.

The word ‘exile’ means, the ‘state or a period of forced absence from one's country or home’. So, while exile for the Israelite people meant an actual, physical forced absence from their home, exile can mean many different things for each of us. To be diagnosed with a life threatening illness can take us into a particular state of weakness - exile - as we find ourselves absent from the more familiar state of good health. To experience the end of a relationship or the death of a loved one can take us into a state of exile as we find ourselves learning how to live in a new state without that person in our lives. To experience any kind of devastating disappointment can and often does take us into that state of exile. And it is precisely in these lowest of times where we are offered the powerful, healing, transforming Presence of God, offering us a new vision of this great Presence, and deepening our relationship with this God who is the source of all true strength.

And in today’s reading we hear of that huge, long awaited moment in which Job proclaims, “...now my eye sees you. I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.” - Now I have finally met you... face to face. He has finally reached a place in which he is no longer blind to the graciousness of God through the experience of suffering, and he is able to place his life into God’s hands and trust that all in the fullness of time all will be well. Life may not always be what he wants it to be, but no matter what the future may hold, God’s mercy is great indeed. And even though this may look and be different for various people in countless different circumstances, God appears to us in the midst of our smallness and our frailty and fills us with mercy and grace. Out of the ashes of pain and disappointment, God makes all things new.

This sets the tone quite nicely as we reflect on the Gospel for today where Jesus, who has come to open the eyes of a blind humanity, heals the blind man, Bartimaeus who calls out from the side of the road, “Son of David! Take pity on me!”  Despite people telling the man to be quiet, he yells, even louder, “Son of David! Take pity on me!” Jesus instructs those around him to call the man and when the man jumps up and approaches Jesus who asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” His response? “Teacher, let me see again.” “Off you go” said Jesus, “Your faith has saved you.” And immediately he saw again, and he followed him on the way.

This is NOT a story about receiving physical healing because of having faith. This IS a story about allowing Jesus to work through our brokenness so that he may open our eyes to see.

In order to even begin to understand the gist of this passage we need to look at the stories that have immediately preceded it; the stories that we have been following over the past number of weeks as Jesus journeys from Caesarea Philippi to Jerusalem. This journey-section is framed by two healings of blind men: the blind man at Bethsaida and the blind Bartimaeus. In between, Jesus foretells his death and resurrection three times. Clearly, through him, God is working through weakness, vulnerability and pain. But each time the disciples respond in an inappropriate way; each time they completely miss the point: Peter rebukes Jesus for offering himself as a suffering servant and Peter is rebuked by Jesus; the disciples argue over which of them is the greatest; James and John ask for (seem to be expecting) positions of power. The disciples are so filled with their need for self- importance and power, they remain blind to the impending reality of Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection.

In contrast to the blindness of the disciples, the two blind men who frame this section are able to see, and the blind beggar Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way. So, what was causing those disciples and disciples throughout the centuries to be blind to Jesus’ need to journey to the cross? Well, it seems clear that they are focusing on their own personal need for power and importance. They are interested primarily in their own sense of entitlement.They insist that Jesus award them with positions of power and importance. Furthermore, when they chose to follow Jesus they believed that they were signing up for something that would grant them position and power, not a journey that would end in – what they could only perceive as – defeat.

Bartimaeus, on the other hand, responds to Jesus’ question, “What do you want me to do for you?” with, simply, “My teacher, let me see again.” In other words, Bartimaeus knows he’s blind; he knows he is vulnerable and weak and broken. The main difference between him and the disciples is those disciples have not yet figured out that they too are vulnerable and weak and broken. They too are blind. They have not yet figured out that their greatness will come from a sense of humbling themselves before God; humbling themselves before Jesus (as Jesus, in Mark’s gospel, is about to humble himself on the cross). Bartimaus represents the blindness in each of those disciples, each of Jesus’ disciples throughout the ages, and each of us.

In time, those same disciples will actually experience Jesus’ death on the cross, and it is then and only then that they will discover their own sense of frailty and brokenness; they will experience grief beyond anything they could have imagined; and when they discover an emptiness in the tomb where his dead and lifeless body had been laid to rest, their eyes are opened in surprising new ways. Suddenly, they know and experience Jesus in a brand new way; even though they still have hardships yet to endure, they discover him in the midst of their weakness, vulnerability and grief. Suddenly, they know that through his weakness on the cross and rising to new life, their weakness is never the end of the story. Suddenly, they know that through the crucified and risen Jesus, they are never alone, and there is always hope for new life, new possibilities and new insights.

Woven into the fabric of the culture in which we live is the need for power, success, and a worldly kind of competitive strength. But our readings this morning challenge us to see God in those inevitable weak and vulnerable places: within ourselves, the church, and the world in which we live. Job’s needs, his trials, reached a point where they overwhelmed and deconstructed his strength, so he became humbled and even humiliated, and he was able to acknowledge his own weakness and his need for God in that dark and lonely place. And, it was from this place of humility that Job’s faith was born. This is NOT to say that God creates or even permits suffering in order to motivate faith. It IS to say that God weeps with us in our suffering, with us/in us/ alongside us, and at the same time, will use it to open our eyes.

I believe that each of us here carries with us some sense of sadness, disappointment, fear; some sense of grief; some sense of pain. And, I believe that each of us has our own blind spots where it comes to seeing, and trusting that with the crucified and risen Jesus, we are never alone. In addition to those happy and joyful parts of our lives, we carry all this with us as we come, each week, to this table, where Jesus offers a way to remove our blindness; where Jesus meets us in those places; where Jesus feeds us, and fills us with food for the journey which lies ahead; where Jesus feeds us with unconditional love and comfort, a sense of hope and peace. Jesus is calling us to allow him to remove these things that block our vision. Because in truth, each of us may be known by the name Bartimaeus; each of us sits at the side of the road in need of Jesus’ healing touch.

Our Psalm this morning affirms that God is near, especially in the midst of our suffering. It recognizes that keeping our eyes open to the Presence of God is what keeps us from that sense of utter despair in the midst of those painful times and places. This Psalm is where our often used Eucharistic antiphon is originally found, “Taste. And see. That the Lord is good. Happy are they who trust in Him. As we come to this table today, and receive the gift of Jesus’ true Presence and nourishment, may our eyes and hearts be opened, and our burdens lifted. And may we leave this place made ready to feed others as we have been fed.