Mark 10:46-52
46 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. 47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 48 Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 49 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.” 50 So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. 51 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.” 52 Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

Reflection:
Let’s absorb the imagery of this passage for a moment. This is a large crowd of people that includes some of Jesus’ closest followers. They know Jesus is a healer. They know Jesus is a giver of mercy. Remember yesterday’s devotional? Jesus just told his disciples that in order to participate in his glory, they must not be lords, but servants. And at their first opportunity to do this, they berate a destitute, blind man.

Let me say that a little bit differently. An entire crowd of people praising and following Jesus yelled at a blind man for calling out for Jesus to do the very thing that Jesus always does for those who cry out to him. Why? My guess is because of personal gain.

Remember yesterday’s devotional? When James and John asked Jesus for seats of honor in his glory, they weren’t talking about the afterlife. They were anticipating a political revolution, and the disciples, who had witnessed and experienced a lifetime of sociopolitical oppression under Roman rule, finally get to be top dogs. Power changed them, and not for the better. It turns out that misunderstanding the power and glory of Christ’s Kingdom has significant consequences.

Enter Bartimaeus, the poor, blind outcast. While the disciples and the crowd are basking in the glory of being Jesus’ entourage, a man cries out, begging to be noticed by Jesus is met with a response from the crowd that communicated a familiar message: you are not wanted here. Stay invisible. You are not important. You do not matter. But Jesus says otherwise, and instead of calling Bartimaeus to the center, Jesus tells the crowd to call him to the center, making them take back what they originally told him. Then Jesus heals him, not only restoring his sight and his dignity, but something else happens. Instead of going on his merry way after being healed, Bartimaeus becomes one of Jesus’ followers. He becomes part of the group that desperately tried to exclude him. He moves from the margins and into the center.

A young woman named Eva Lewis gave a Ted Talk a few years ago about the disproportionate allocation of resources between north and south Chicago. Access to quality education, grocery stores, and basic needs are sparse in south Chicago, while those in the northern Chicago neighborhoods are filled to the brim with these resources, despite having a smaller population compared to the southside. She said that the world will be a wilderness as long as there is even one community suffering injustice—even if the rest of the world is thriving.

Christ also has a vision of oasis. He notices when one of us is missing from the table. Every single day, we encounter the suffering world where people are so clearly absent, where their voices are suppressed, and if we don’t encounter it, chances are we’re the ones who are blind. The glory of Christ’s Kingdom leads us into the difficult, painful, back-breaking work of transforming the wilderness. This is not exotic work, but it is beautiful work. Christ has given us a front row seat to this work and has chosen to partner with us to bring the oasis of Christ’s to fruition.

Closing Prayer:
God of wilderness and God of oasis,
We thank you for the gift of forgiveness. You invite us all to repent of the ways we’ve excluded people from your table, the ways we have devalued the voices of others, the ways we have safeguarded our own gains at the cost of others. Give us your eyes so that we may notice when someone is missing from your table and the heart to embrace them just as you embrace all of us. Amen.