Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost, Year B
Donna G. Joy

Job 42:1-6, 10-17  Hebrews4:12-16  Mark 10:46-52

This past week I read of an imaginary conversation between Stevie Wonder and Tiger Woods, in which Stevie says to Tiger, "I can beat you at golf." Tiger, as you might expect, replies, "Not likely going to happen, but let's pick a time to meet on
the golf course and check this out." And Stevie Wonder said, "O.K. I'll meet you on the golf course on Tuesday . . . . . at midnight."

We all have our blind spots. At various and different times we are all blind to certain things, and if we look closely and deeply enough we'll discover what it is that is blocking our view; what it is that is blocking us from seeing what it is we
need to see.

In this morning's passage from the Book of Job we discover that astonishing, long awaited moment in which Job's eyes have been opened. He says, "...but now my eye sees you!" Our lectionary has had us travelling with Job these last few weeks, during which time we have been reminded of Job's devastating trials; his deep and probing questions directed at God: "Why is this happening? Do you, God, know – or even care? Is this suffering caused by You, God? And, "God, you must relieve me from such suffering and pain!"

Last week we heard God's response, which was to say, "You, Job, are not qualified to know the answer to such things. There are so many mysteries, and you are too small and limited to possess such knowledge. Only I – God – can know." And now, after numerous chapters in which Job engages his wife, friends, and God in self-righteous, self-centered debate about the fairness of his troubled life, Job finally acknowledges that the greatness of God can never be fully understood, controlled or diminished.  He says, "I know that you – God - can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted."

Then we discover that Job's troubles, at long last,  are coming to an end. We are told that God afforded Job the gift of a new beginning when Job had prayed for his friends; that God's generosity abounded. As we read this part of the text, however, it is important to remember that this is not about God rewarding Job for good behaviour, or human righteousness. Old Testament scholars Walter Brueggemann and James Newsome warn us that it is tempting to read verses 10-17 as an effort to connect divine rewards to human righteousness since Job repents (v. 6) and God restores his fortunes so generously. However, this would contradict the basic message of the book as a whole.

Let us not forget that Job was blameless and upright prior to all this misfortune. Therefore, Brueggemann and Newsome suggest that the restoration of Job's fortunes should be read as an expression not of God's justice, but of God's mercy. Indeed, since Job had repented of his arrogance, his faith was no longer dependent upon divine rewards.

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.

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 state of exile as we find ourselves absent from the more familiar state of good health. To experience the ending 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.

Walter Brueggeman also reminds us what it is that prevents us from seeing God in such times:

"The danger in exile is to become so preoccupied with self that one cannot get outside one's self to rethink, reimagine, and redescribe larger reality. Self-preoccupation seldom yields energy, courage, or freedom. In ancient Israel, one of the strategies for coping shrewdly and responsibly beyond self was the narratives of defiance (such as Job) that enjoined exiles not to confront their harsh overlord directly, but to negotiate knowingly between faith and the pressures of 'reality'."

So, as we reflect on Job's story from beginning to end; as we reflect on the way in which his relationship with God evolves, we might ask: "How was Job initially so blind to seeing the Presence of God? What was blocking him from seeing God? What changed?"

Job initially responds to his trials with a self centered, self absorbed focus. He rails against his trials. He asks 'why me?'
He demands that God do what he insists, focusing on his own personal gratification and well being. He demands that God remove this suffering from him. But then Job is reminded that he has no business commanding God to do anything.
He is reminded that it is God who designed and brought into being the entire cosmos; it is God who has power over the uncontrollable forces of chaos, evil and suffering. Even when it seems that things are way out of control, God's saving grace will always endure. Once Job discovers that in and through God, all in the fullness of time, all will be well, Job submits to God. But it seems that this place of humility opened his eyes to this revelation.

Two chapters prior to this morning's reading we read of Job's initial response, which is, "I am unworthy – how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth." In other words, the power of seeing and experiencing God has rendered Job speechless. See the shift here. At the beginning of the Book of Job, we see Job described as righteous and therefore deserving of special treatment; deserving of a life in which there is an absence of suffering. Here we see the transformation that occurs in Job as he moves from being full of himself, to a place of humility; a place of being filled with God's wisdom and God's grace. Job is now silent in the face of God's awesome majesty and unsearchable wisdom. In the words of
Archbishop William Temple, "Humility does not mean thinking less of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean
having a low opinion of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking about yourself at all."

In today's reading we hear of that huge, long awaited moment in which Job proclaims, "...now my eye sees you". He has finally reached a place in which he is able to place his life into God's hands and trust that in the fullness of time all will be well. No matter what the future may hold, God's mercy is great. 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. And out of the ashes of pain and disappointment, God makes all things new.

Bottom line: as long as Job was focussing on himself – on his trials – on his discomfort – on his sense of injustice – he was blind to the presence of God. Once he humbled himself before the greatness of God his eyes were opened and he was able to see the presence of God.

And 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!" And, 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. And 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 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; and as we heard last week James and John ask for (seem to be expecting) positions of power.  In spite of all they have heard and seen, the disciples 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. Professor of Biblical Studies Werner Kelber suggests, "the disturbing but profoundly
religious truth Mark conveys in the central section of his Gospel is that those who are closest to Jesus and claim to know him best of all may be furthest from the truth, while those who are spatially and temporally removed from Jesus may
spiritually and in the conduct of their lives be very close to him."

So, what was causing those disciples and disciples throughout the centuries to be blind to the message of Jesus? Well, it seems clear that they are focusing on their own personal needs, and comforts and importance. They are interested primarily in their own sense of entitlement. They insist that Jesus award them with positions of power and importance. 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 week and broken. 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).

These stories this morning challenge us to move beyond the age old human tendency toward self-reliance, self-importance, self-indulgence. They challenge us to see God in those weak and vulnerable places: within ourselves and within the
church and world in which we live.  Job's needs, his trials, reached a point where they overwhelmed/deconstructed his
strength, so he became humbled and even humiliated. 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 encourage each of us to think of those places within ourselves that tend toward self-reliance, self-importance, self-indulgence; those things that make us blind to the presence of God through Christ. Now, hear Jesus ask, "What do you
want me to do for you?"  My hope is that we may respond, not with, "Please Jesus, give me that raise at work that I so
desperately want" or  "Please Jesus, give me that promotion at work that I so desperately want" or "Please Jesus, give me
more money so that I can afford that trip I want to take, or that house I want to buy, or, or, or..." My hope is that we may respond with, "My teacher, let me see again." And then recognize that Jesus longs to remove these blinders from us.

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.

Anna Murdock is a lay preacher in the States, and I end with her words:

"There are no words so telling to me personally as Job's, 'My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.'
For that moment in my life which I have yet to find words to describe, Job has offered words that I understand.  And oh, it is Bartimaeus who puts voice and movement to our moment of sight!"

Resources: Hebrew Scripture, Jewish Publication Society; Jewish Study Bible; Walter Brueggemann; James Newsome; Archbishop William Temple; Werner Kelber