Define, YOU
“Define, YOU”
Proper 25, 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time, 23rd Sunday after Pentecost, Year B October 28, 2018
Psalm 34:1-8, (19-22) Mark 10:46-52
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Pastor Andy Kennaly
On the Sabbatical the summer of 2017, I visited Glenstal Abbey in Ireland, and Buckfast Abbey in England. At Glenstal there’s a trail through a ravine into a wooded, more remote section of the grounds, and there’s an old altar made of stone which is kind of like a cave that’s now covered with moss as the woods reclaim this space. This is where Catholics met for worship when it was illegal to be Catholic.
“From 1558 until 1829, Roman Catholics in England [and apparently Ireland] were not permitted to practice their faith openly.” Basically, the church went underground, hiding out and doing things in ways that could go unnoticed. For example, “the song, ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ is an English Christmas carol. Someone during that era wrote this carol as a catechism song for young Catholics. It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning, […as] each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality which the children could remember.”
On the first of Christmas, my True Love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree. “The ‘True Love’ […on one level is a sweatheart, a boy or girlfriend, but at a deeper level is] Jesus Christ, because truly Love was born on Christmas Day. The partridge in the pear tree also represents [Jesus] because that bird is willing to sacrifice its life if necessary to protect its young.”
Here are a few other facts from that song, just for fun: The two turtle doves – Old and New Testaments; three French hens – faith, hope, and love; four calling birds are the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; five gold rings represent the first five books of the Old Testament,” the Pentateuch; “six geese a-laying stood for the six days of creation; Seven swans a-swimming – the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit (Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy); eight maids a-milking were the eight beatitudes; Nine ladies dancing [involve] nine fruits of the Holy Spirit (Charity, Joy, Peace, Patience [Forbearance], Goodness [Kindness], Mildness, Fidelity, Modesty, Continency [Chastity]); ten lords a-leaping – the Ten Commandments; eleven pipers piping stood for the eleven faithful Apostles; twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in The Apostles' Creed.
(Original Source: Fr. Calvin Goodwin, FSSP, Nebraska, https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/resources/advent/customs-and-traditions/the-history-of-the-twelve-days-of-christmas).
There’s no way you would get any of that if you didn’t know there’s more to the words than just words. The song is just a song, but the symbolism, that below the surface; this points to larger truths. The scriptures are similar, and as we read from Mark about Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar sitting by the roadside, we hear the surface level of the drama, the story line, but there’s also symbolism pointing to deeper meanings.
For example, “Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus.” Some scholars suggest Timaeus represents Plato the Philosopher who lived about 400 years before this scene and promoted a dualistic approach that denies the goodness and reality of the physical world, and that perfection only exists in some other realm or plane as a mind/body and physical/spiritual split are emphasized. We sometimes buy into this, thinking heaven is holy and earth is not; but this is not a Christian message (Incarnation), this is Greek philosophy.
As the story line goes, when the beggar hears it’s Jesus coming, he shouts out for Jesus, Son of David, to have mercy on him (a couple times he does this). The crowd tells him to stop, but then Jesus calls for him. He gets up, “throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.” The son of Timaeus, as Timaeus symbolizes Plato, and this cloak, for many, symbolizes Plato’s philosophy, the Greek perspective. The cloak is shed, cast aside, given up and left.
If that cloak represents Plato, then it’s Greek philosophy that holds him down as he sits along the road, trying to define him from outside. It’s Jesus who invites him to walk on the Path, the Way, the journey, not stifled alongside the road, but on the road, unencumbered, walking with Jesus. Then there’s also the stigma of being blind as someone cursed by God, as if God is punishing him for sin of some sort. But Jesus reverses this through Incarnational ministry. How can someone created in the image and likeness of God be cursed, really? Contrasting Greek thinking, Jesus is focused on Incarnation, not looking on the imperfections of things, but highlighting the very divinity of things as matter expresses spirit and core identity can never be destroyed.
The story starts out saying they came to Jericho, and then “he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho.” They come to Jericho and then leave. Why even mention Jericho? Remember Jericho, in the Old Testament story it’s Jericho that’s a heavily defended fortress yet it’s walls come tumbling down and it’s the first stop as the people enter the Promised Land after 40 years of living in the desert. This first verse sets the story up for something seemingly impossible to take place, and this is part of God’s larger purpose, involving partnership with God’s people in the movement of life and the dynamic flow of love, care, covenant, all elements of relationship with God.
As this story starts out saying as they were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus, a blind beggar; these terms are descriptions, identity. His experience involves a loss of identity, and yet in the loss he discovers a truer identity. On the surface, this is a movement from someone with position, a member of society, to someone marginalized, losing their name, thought to be cursed by God. After Jesus calls him, he’s no longer called “beggar” but he’s called “the blind man” as he begins a process of redemption. But just like those walls crashed down and that cloak was cast aside, Jesus doesn’t just give him back what he had before. At a deeper level, his healing is more complete than that, more than just his eyes being fixed. His True Identity, True Self is revealed.
Jesus asks,
“What do you want me to do for you?”
That question echoes to us this very day as Jesus asks, “What do you want for me to do for you?” It has nothing to do with our lists, or our wants. It’s a philosophical question that cuts away the superficial, even that which we thought was true.
So often we look to Jesus as Savior, someone sent by God to fix the mess we’ve made, or to help us be blessed somehow, to restore our sinful soul so we don’t rot in hell for eternity. This is old doctrine, but not ancient. This guilt and punishment model has been around for a while, but has more to do with other philosophies and very little to do with Incarnation and the embodiment of the Living Christ in all things, which is archetypal since the foundations of the world.
“What do you want me to do for you?” is a question that cannot be answered at the level of the mind, where Plato and rationalization and thought try to grasp. Reason is not at the core of this question. The crowd changed from yelling at this guy to be quiet and take his place on the side of the road under the cloak to, instead, encouraging him to get up and they say, “take heart; get up, he is calling you.” That’s a turning point in this story, as the crowd changes from condemning to inspiring. Getting up, shedding the cloak is symbolizing a shift from the oppression of the mind to the liberation of the heart. Philosophies and doctrines can control and manipulate thoughts under their framework, but it’s at the heart level where true transformation takes place and encouragement sinks in roots to grow.
“What do you want me to do for you?” This question is a lesson, when seen through the Wisdom Tradition. It’s like a riddle. Like the larger story itself, this question plays with our sense of identity, our concepts of how life is structured, as it challenges the philosophies we live by and takes self-awareness to deeper levels. It’s a loaded question!
“What” is the word it starts with, and this is an objectifying word. “What” points to a thing, or object, or result or desire; you can write down “what’s” on a list. This reveals our dualistic thinking which objectifies reality, whereas Jesus is coming from a unitive approach, where nothing is separate and everything is connected and belongs. There is no separation because the Christ consciousness infuses all there is, seen and unseen.
Also, the word, “you” is listed twice. What do you want me to do for you? Let’s leave off the word “what” and break that sentence in half, like a poet does, and we read, “Do you want me…to do for you?” “Do you want me…to do for you?” Jesus is exploring this man’s philosophy. Does he want Jesus to fix things for him? Is this man looking for a utilitarian experience, an external situation where God comes from outside to set things right? Or is this man looking to discover a relational unity that involves Presence? Take heart is an invitation to look within, claiming deep connection.
In that question, the word, “YOU” is listed twice, almost like brackets, while Jesus says, “Me” in the central place. What do YOU want ME to do for YOU? Which YOU is Jesus asking? Define, “YOU?” How does our identity get defined? Is it our name? Our context, or station in life, our wealth or occupation, something we do, or the family we’re born into? What makes a human being on one side of a line different than a human being on the other side of a line? Is it race, politics, country of origin? What about qualities, like honesty, or being nice, or violent? Whatever the label we use to define our understanding of self or others, those labels are incomplete. No single word, or even group of words, can capture the essence of a human life, or any life form.
Jesus is inviting this person to experience being fully human. Unlike Plato or Greek philosophy that shuns the flesh and puts down earthly matter, Jesus lifts up and embraces Incarnation and occupies central place for all to see. The blind man’s vision is restored because he sees Jesus for who he is, and even his sense of self, how the word “You” is defined, is transformed.
Jesus asks a philosophical question and the response is a philosophical answer.
“My teacher, let me see again.”
“Let me see again!” stakes his claim as a spiritual being having a human experience, fully in the presence of the living God. Out from under that cloak, this man’s created-in-the-image-of-God Self (with a capital S) is the new ME. Let ME see again. Reveal my original goodness and let it shine.
“Go, your faith has made you well.”
GO is an active word, dynamic, flowing, unstuck. It’s a word that gives permission and release. After sharing from the heart what his true desire and intentions are, seeking relationship, unity, and love as his True Self is healed and restored, Jesus points out that the man’s faith has made him well. Jesus didn’t heal him. The man’s faith made him well. Not faith as a quantifiable object, but faith as an existential reality, connected to the basis of life itself, like a fountain allowing the spring of living water to flow. Faith is an experience of trust in a deep relationship with the Living God, the One who truly defines our identity as unique creations expressing divine consciousness, an identity deeper than any other label. Faith is a letting go, just as Jesus shows us the Way as we journey on the path of descent. This man had died to his old identity and found new life in Christ, trusting and loving and opening his heart.
There’s more to the story, more drama and details, as well as more interpretations and deep meanings, symbolism and metaphor and philosophy all skating around this Gospel pond. I invite you to continue meditative contemplation on this passage in the week ahead as we hear the crowd of that story encouraging us, saying, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” May we open our hearts to receive the call, to shed that which holds us down, to let go of even our most cherished and defended fortresses so we too can be unencumbered as we claim God’s perfect love which sustains us on the journey of faith. And may God be glorified, NOW,… even as forever. Amen.