The blind Leading the Blind

sermon by Torin Eikler
Jeremiah 31:7-9 Mark 10:35-52

The story of old blind Bart has become one of my favorites over the past several years, and though I didn’t really know where to find it until just a few years ago (I thought it was in Matthew), I first learned it ‘round about age seven when we sang the song “Blind Man” around the fire at camp. And, I think what clenched its place near the top of my list is a different song called “Old Blind Bart” that I first heard sung by a duet from eastern Tennessee during a talent show at the national Young Adult Conference of the Church of the Brethren.

It may seem strange to you that a song can have such a powerful effect, but then again, I suspect we have all had some “aha!” moment when listening to a song that may seem absolutely forgettable to others. What’s strange to me about the whole experience is that I can’t, for the life of me, remember any of the words! All I really remember is watching Chanda and Gwen – two very confident and outgoing women – step out of the crowd, walk to the front of the room, and stand there side by side, holding hands.

Now, you need to know that both of these sisters stood all of 4’2” tall, and their height – if you want to call it that – prompted many people in the back to stand up in order to see better. And, there they stood utterly still and quiet with their eyes closed. Then, with a small sure movement, Chanda shook a shaker egg one time, they opened their mouths (though not their eyes), and out came a huge sound that rolled across the room to several gasps. As the diminutive duo sang with such surprising power, nothing in the room moved except for their mouths and the hand with that shaker marking a steady beat.

I know it’s impossible for you to get the full effect, but it was a moment that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Even as the details of the tableau continue to fade from my mind, the sound of their voices cutting through the last bits of quiet chatter that are always going on during talent shows still echoes in my head. And, one of the reasons that the story of Bar-timaeus sitting by the side of the road sticks with me is that I hear his voice echoing across the years as well.


Here was a man sitting in the dust by the gate to Jericho with nothing more than a bowl, a staff, and a cloak to his name. (And, since he is the only person to be healed in the Gospel of Mark who is given a name, he must have been important at some time in his life and, therefore, able to see.) Day after day, I imagine, he sat there in the dark, remembering life as it had been and begging for a few coins or some food from anyone who would share with him. Hundreds of people would have passed in and out of that gate - traveling on the way to Jerusalem and the Temple, going out to farms, or coming in to the markets, and I imagine he only heard a few coins fall in his bowl all day, only received a few scraps of bread or fruits and vegetables on the edge of spoilage.

It would have been a hard place to be, fallen from grace into the gutter – humiliating and hard for most of us to imagine (though, sadly, there are more and more people each day who find themselves in the same place in this country). With nothing else to do – and because his livelihood depended on it, he would have listened to everything that went on around him … would have recognized with bitterness the voices of friends and acquaintances who now shunned him … hearing bits and pieces of the same boring stories and complaints from different people as they came and went.

Then, out of nowhere, a new story comes floating to him on the breeze, the story of a traveling teacher who healed the sick and cast out demons, a teacher who was upsetting the authorities and the status quo they supported, the status quo that left him behind … eating dust. The more he hears, the more interested he becomes. Not only is this Jesus challenging the powers that be, he is getting away with it. He even seems to know the law better than they do. AND, he is proclaiming a new kind of kingdom where the outcasts are welcome at the banquet table and the proud are turned away. It all sounds so promising….

And one day, Bartimaeus here’s the whisper of excitement flutter around him. A crowd begins to gather along the road, and though they ignore him even more than usual, he doesn’t mind this time because Jesus is coming. And he waits … he waits in silence with his unseeing eyes open … until the moment he hears that Jesus is near. Then he closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and a prayer escapes: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

The crowd around him jumps in surprise. They turn with hearts racing and shush him – this beggar, this man they had known and forgotten all about. But Bart will not be silenced. “He cries out even more loudly, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!” And, his voice cuts through the chatter, ringing silence out of the crowd as Jesus stops and calls him over.

To the sound of encouragement he hasn’t heard for years, Bart comes forward, leaving behind his cloak so that it won’t get in his way. And, Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”


Now, I like to imagine that at this point Jesus slides a slow and meaningful glance at James and John. Maybe he even held their gaze as he asked his question and raised a questioning eyebrow when he got the response. This was, after all, not just a time for healing, it was a teachable moment. Those two brothers – disciples who had traveled with Jesus from the beginning … who had gone along with Peter to the mountain and witnessed the transfiguration … who would be called forward to witness Jesus’ prayer in the garden – they had heard it all. They had seen it all. They had been a part of it all. Yet, they didn’t see nearly as much as this blind man by the side of the road.

When Jesus asked them “What is it you want me to do for you?” on the road to Jericho, they asked for power though they needed vision and understanding. They still wanted to Jesus to be the Messiah they envisioned. They wanted him to sit on the earthly throne so that they could sit on his right and left hand in seats of influence and respect. They couldn’t understand the truth and power of the upside down vision that Jesus was proclaiming, but old blind Bart did. And, when Jesus asked him – this man of low stature, of little account, and certainly not leadership material – when Jesus asked him, he gave voice to exactly what he needed … what they all needed ... to see. The blind man leading the Blind toward the Kingdom.


Our world is full of noise – the shout of advertising, the one-way burble of cell phone conversations, the drone of everyday work and conversation, the wheedling whine of rumor and shifted blame, the whisper of fear and embarrassment. Crowds of people are everywhere, and every day we are likely to find ourselves in a crowded gateway, waiting for something or someone to happen or happen by. Some of us are on the edges, calling out for mercy. Some of us are silencing those voices, straining as we are for a chance to see and hear for ourselves. There are times when we are the voices of encouragement, and sometimes we are the quiet ones standing by and taking it all in. We are, all of us, there somewhere in this story, and whatever part we take as it plays out day after day, my hope is that when we find ourselves in the silence and Jesus asks us, “What do you want me to do for you?” we will see our way clear to follow the blind man’s lead and ask for what we all need, saying, “My teacher, let me see again.”

May it be so.