My Dear Friends—
Have you had a chance yet to make the acquaintance of Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus? If not, I encourage you to spend some time with him before Sunday. This week the prophet Jeremiah gives us a God who gathers and consoles; the evangelist Mark gives us a Jesus who heals and a blind beggar who models discipleship. And the psalmist tells us that “those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.” It would seem, as we near the end of this season after Pentecost, that we’ve been treated to a “loaves and
fishes” Sunday!
Two weeks ago, I spoke to you of this time between Pentecost and the beginning of
Advent as an “ordinary time,” so called because we number these Sundays—we “order” them—with ordinal numerals. As it happens, on this twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost, we find ourselves in the ninth week of a twelve-week chronological journey through several chapters in Mark’s Gospel. Sunday after Sunday, we return to our sacred stories. We wonder at their beauty, we wrestle with their complexity, we hold them up next to each other, the better to work out their meaning for us as a pilgrim people on the way.
Shall we hold a few of our stories up next to each other? Shall we compare this week’s
begging Bartimaeus to last week’s James and John, jockeying for exalted positions at
Jesus’ right and left hands? Do we recall the rich man of two weeks ago, comparing his
sad departure with Bartimaeus’s willing accompaniment? What echoes do we hear?
What differences, glaring and subtle?
Last Sunday, Joy spoke to us movingly of Jesus’ repeated calls to generous servanthood —and the generous love of God that might help us to answer that call. As
this Sunday approaches, I wonder if we can spare a moment for reflection and stillness.
Did you notice that moment right in the middle of the Bartimaeus story? In the center of all the shouting and the shushing and the springing forth? That pivotal moment between the beggar’s supplication and the healer’s summons? Jesus stood still.
The world is noisy and its demands are many—so much to do in the midst of so many
who would silence us in one minute and support us in the next. But what if we took a
moment of this ordinary time to be still? To be still with Jesus in the center of the storm and notice… notice that in these moments he loves rich man and poor beggar alike. To be still with Joy before that little cluster of weeds and notice… notice that if we look closer, we might find a beautiful bouquet.
Would that in the stillness we find sustenance to travel the way of Jesus.
In faith and love,
David
