But it always seemed to me
- Steve Earle, Tom Ames’ Prayer
My dad has been a passionate fisherman his whole life. There are many fishing stories of his I enjoy sharing, but the most profound story came late in his fishing career.
Fishing for the first time by himself at St. Simons in a new boat that belonged to my brother-in-law, my dad accidentally stepped off the back and into the bay.
Now normally my dad fished from his flats boat, which is quite low to the water, and easy to get in and out of, but my brother-in-law’s boat was a Boston Whaler, a big bay boat that sits super high off the water.
And the currents and the tides are quite strong in St. Simons.
My dad, being incapable of climbing up the sides, tried stepping onto the propeller of the engine, but when he lifted his leg, his shin got caught on the propeller, tearing open his skin like paper. He began bleeding profusely in the water.
Now the coast of St. Simons Island is notorious for shark sightings. The fact that my father was bleeding out into the salt water certainly was not helping his matter.
He tried to position his foot again on the prop, but he slipped again and tore the other leg open. He tried to climb up numerous times, but every time he slipped back into the cold water. The current was moving too strong and soon he became very tired after numerous attempts of trying to climb up the engine. It was all he could do just to hold on for dear life.
Now little did my father know… but at the front of the boat, on the port side, there was a ladder that went straight up to the bow. Had he known this, he could have easily made his way around to it and climbed right back into the boat.
But this was not my dad’s boat, and he was blind to the existence of such a life-saving ladder.
Now my father is a huge fan of Steve Earle the country singer, and one of the lines he used to quote often was from a song called Tom Ames’ Prayer. The line goes like this,
But it always seemed to me
Yet on that fair autumn day, desperately clinging onto a boat caught in the grips of a current taking him helplessly out to sea, getting weaker and weaker by the minute with the loss of blood chumming the water all around him, my father said he cried out from the very depths of his being, a prayer begging God to save him.
I imagine it sounded something like that of the desperate cry of Blind Bartimaeus, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!
Which brings us to our Gospel lesson this morning, the story of one of my favorite biblical characters, Blind Bart. He’s the real star of the morning, so I guess we’ll just have to wait until the end of my homily in order to find out what happened to my poor dad.
I love Bartimaeus because like my Dad, and like us, all poor Bart can do is be blind and beg. And in this humble and broken state, Bart teaches us a precious truth about God’s Kingdom where the blind can see and those who can see are blind.
And I’m not talking about being physically blind; I’m talking about spiritual blindness.
As Jesus spoke to his critics after the healing of another blind man at the pool of Bethesda: “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.” (John 9:39)
Every day, every moment of every day, we are given the chance to see a glimpse of Jesus, or to remain lost in the darkness of the world, consumed by its troubles and fears.
It is as if we have taken our paintbrushes and dipped them into the paint of our broken and shattered souls and painted the face of God, our neighbor, and ourselves in such a distorted and blurred vision.
But Blind Bart is here to show us how to dream. He is our blind guide out of our darkness and into the way, the truth, and the life. To show us the light of the Father as revealed in Jesus Christ. For it is Christ who says, I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
Now it’s important for us to revisit the context of Bart’s encounter with Jesus: it takes place right before the triumphal entry into Jerusalem in Mark’s gospel. That fated moment where Christ enters into the holy city, turning his face completely toward his passion and ultimate crucifixion.
The Son of David comes riding upon a donkey as the crowds cast off their cloaks and lay down palm leaves shouting, Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, Hosanna in the highest.
Blind Bart recognizes by faith the light of the cosmos passing him by and will not be silenced. He cries out for Jesus with reckless abandonment using his messianic title, Son of David.
Primarily, the title “Son of David” is more than a statement of physical genealogy. It is a Messianic title. When people referred to Jesus as the Son of David, they meant that He was the long-awaited Deliverer, the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies.
The Son of David has come down from the mountain of the transfiguration and has set his face like flint toward Jerusalem
Son of David, have mercy on me is the cry of Adam and Eve standing naked and ashamed in the garden.
Son of David, have mercy on me is the cry of Israel in exile.
Son of David have mercy one me is the cry of my father clinging to his life on the back of a boat.
Son of David have mercy on me is the cry of us, the human race, lost in the nightmare and darkness of death.
Son of David have mercy on me is the cry of Blind Bart touching the heart of the Messiah, causing him to stand still.
Stand still. It’s an odd expression, but we have seen it before in Mark’s gospel, back where the hemorrhaging woman touched the hem of his garment and was instantly healed.
It seems that in the midst of all these broken human bodies pressing against the divine, Jesus stands still, like the eye of the storm, bringing forth from his virtue a fountain of healing water.
And just like with the woman, in his stillness, Jesus calls for Bart to come to him.
And what happens next is the stuff of hopes and dreams expressed in the action of one lowly blind beggar living in the gutters of life.
So throwing off his cloak, Bart sprang up and came to Jesus. (Mark 10:50)
Let me say that again, So throwing off his cloak, Bart sprang up and came to Jesus.
Now that will preach.
Bart, when he hears his master, his messiah, calling him, throws off his cloak.
Bart throws off his disability, Bart throws off his lowly position as a beggar, he throws off his identity of being nobody from nowhere, an outsider, a dirty blind beggar who can only beg and be blind.
He throws off everything that was holding him down: all his pain, all his sorrows, all his past mistakes, all of his sin and shamefulness…
And he springs up and he comes to Jesus.
Then Jesus said to him, What do you want me to do for you? (Mark 10:51)
And Bart replies, My teacher, my rabbi, my Lord, let me see again. (Mark 10:51)
And Jesus says, “Go; your faith has made you well.” And immediately Bart regained his sight and followed him on the way. (Mark 10:52)
Bishop Michael Curry says that Dreams are love’s visions - the boundless faith that the world can be remade to look more like what God hoped for his creation.
Bart is a dreamer who had nothing to give to Jesus but his blindness and his begging, yet from his hope, his faith, his dream sprang Amazing Grace:
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
Now back to my poor dad, bleeding profusely, clinging to his very life on the back of a boat going out to sea.
As he tells the story, he cried out, he begged for God to save him…
The next thing he remembered was awaking from this hellish nightmare, miraculously laying limp in the bottom of the boat, and looking up at what appeared to him to be an angel.
Like waking up into a dream.
But it was a local crabber who saw my father’s boat floating aimlessly in the current and attached his skiff to tow my dad back to safety. Looking down he saw my dad laying belly up, covered in blood, and smiling at his salvation.
Do not try to convince my dad otherwise, this man was an angel who rescued him and got him to the hospital where his wounds were stitched up and mom could take him home.
It just so happened that this good Samaritan, this local crabber, after bringing my dad to safety, disappeared before revealing his identity.
And as to how my father made it back in the boat? Well, that remains a mystery, but dad believes to this day that it was divine intervention, the work of Jesus, in hearing his desperate cry, lifting him up and into safety, restoring his life.
So, in the spirit of my father’s desperate cries for salvation, and in the reckless dreams of Blind Bart, may we too recognize that all we can bring to God is our blindness and our begging.
But isn’t that usually when he does his best work?
In the words of one of my favorite hymns, let us approach the altar this morning with the boldness, the faith, and the imagination of Bartimaeus.
Who cried out,
Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.
Amen.
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