On the Courage to Hope
October 27, 2024
Traceymay Kalvaitis
Psalm 126
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced. Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb. May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.
Mark 10:46-52
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.
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Today’s sermon is titled On the Courage to Hope.
Once a year, on the anniversary of our birth, we are encouraged to make a wish. The ritual usually involves candles, sometimes a great many candles, and often singing, but the most serious moment comes when someone says, “Make a wish!” and then a hush descends and everyone waits quietly and expectantly. Children learn from a young age not to share their wish out loud; we are taught that if we keep our wish to ourselves, there is a greater chance of it coming true. That is an odd notion, when we think about it. Wouldn’t we have more chances of manifesting what we long for if we share our hopes and dreams? Or are we afraid of disappointment and perhaps embarrassment if our hopes and dreams are not realized, so we keep them to ourselves? It is sad to say, but we find it so much safer to share our worries and our doubts.
Almost every conversation these days, if it lasts long enough, will end up with someone saying how worried they are about the upcoming election and the aftermath. Concern is warranted, to be sure, but so is hope. Consider the words of the psalmist we heard today. Those words were written nearly 3000 years ago. Those words were written after a generation of exile in Babylon came to an end and the people were finally free. “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’
The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced. Restore our fortunes, O Lord. May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.”
We sang those words this morning, in the hymn Bringing in the Sheaves. Those words were written by Knowles Shaw, also known as the singing Evangelist. Knowles Shaw was a minister from Ohio that devoted his life to healing the cultural wounds of the Civil War in its aftermath. He wrote a number of hymns, but Bringing in the Sheaves was his last before his death in 1878. In the wake of such a brutal war, with so many fatalities for both sides, Shaw provided the important reminder that joy will eventually follow sorrow; we must not lose hope.
Our story from the Gospel of Mark today is centered around a figure who shows us an unabashed courage to hope. His name is Bartimaeus. Here is what we know about him. His name, Bartimaeus (bar Timeus) literally means, “son of Timeus.” Timeus is a Greek name that means “highly prized” (probably because it is derived from the word time). The scriptures say that Bartimaeus is blind and a beggar. We have no clue about his age, but I like to imagine him as a boy because Bartimaeus is loud. He readily ignores the bystanders who try to silence him, and he is bold in his conviction that Jesus is someone truly extraordinary; he calls out to him, repeatedly, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Bartimeus is not only calling to Jesus, he is proclaiming Jesus’s identity as the long-awaited Messiah from the lineage of King David.
This boy is fervently asking for Jesus and asking for mercy. The word for mercy used in the scriptures is a Greek word, ἐλέησόν (eleēson).* This word is translated as mercy and also compassion. Bartimaeus would have spoken a different word as he asked Jesus for mercy. Bartimaeus would have used the Hebrew word רחם(ra-cha-mim), also translated as mercy and compassion. Linguists are quick to point out that the Hebrew word for mercy and compassion shares the same root as the word for womb, רחם(rechem).** This is intentional. Mercy and compassion arise from a place deep within us all. Mercy and compassion are the result of us being deeply moved by the plight of another. Consider the plight of Bartimaeus. He has been told that his blindness was a result of his sin or his parent’s sin or even his ancestor’s sin; this is how such things were explained, cruel as it was. Bartimaeus had no prospects for participating fully in society. He is a beggar, with no prospects for a meaningful work life, marriage, or family. Bartimaeus does have spunk. He is persistent in calling out to Jesus. His persistence wins him an audience and Baritmeus, probably for the first time in his life, is truly acknowledged and asked a question that in itself holds the power of healing. Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”
This is the same question we heard in last week’s reading. Last week, Jesus asked his squabbling disciples, “What do you want me to do for you?” Again, this week, Jesus asks Bartimeaus, “What do you want me to do for you?” After two weeks with the same question, I can ignore it no longer…and what a question it is! This is perhaps the most compassionate question we could be asked, and perhaps the most compassionate question we can ask of others: What do you want me to do for you?
In this question there is an offer of assistance. In this question there is mercy and there is grace. In this question there is no judgment and no hint of rhetoric. “What do you want me to do for you?,” Jesus asks. We assume that Bartimeus would want his sight restored, but Jesus makes no such assumption. Assumptions are, by their very nature, rhetorical and judgmental. In making assumptions we place ourselves in the place of knowing something about someone or some situation and, if we are honest with ourselves, we know it is an unwise practice to assume anything about anyone.
In Jesus’s question there are no assumptions. He does not assume to know what this man needs or desires most of all and somehow his tenderness breaks my heart open a little bit more. Jesus asks the question, “What do you want me to do for you?”
In closing now, I ask, “What if you were asked the same question?” Could you articulate what you want? Is it clear in your mind? Is it already shaped in your heart? What do you want the Light of the World to do for you?…I invite you, Friend, I invite you to join me in considering an answer to that most compassionate question. I invite you to join me in searching your heart and mind and soul for an answer, or two, and find the words to express it and then be bold enough to hope for it. Let’s close with the refrain from Shaw’s hymn and carry with us the reminder that joy follows sorrow, but only if we hold fast to our hope. Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves, we will come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves. Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves, we shall come rejoicing bringing in the sheaves. So be it. Amen.
*https://biblehub.com/strongs/mark/10-47.htm
**https://www.patheos.com/articles/the-original-hebrew-meaning-of-mercy
Pastoral Prayer
God of All Things, You move through us at times like the light from a candle flame…gently, warmly, casting a golden glow of comfort and peace. At other times, we are cracked open, unexpectedly shaken, stripped of our comfort and complacency and thrust into a fiery awareness of human suffering that we would just as soon avoid. Through gentle flame and raging fires, and through depths of unfathomable darkness, You call to us in voices familiar and strange…sometimes whispering, sometimes urging, “Come home, come close, be at peace.” Open our senses to hear your calling, Lord; empower us to care for ourselves…body, mind and spirit as befits a child of God. Empower us to hope and to dream of a better future for all of humankind. This we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.
Benediction
I leave you with these words from 2nd Timothy, chapter 1:
“God calls us to a holy life not because of anything we have done, but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time.”
Go in peace. Amen.