What Do You Want Me to Do for You? Preached on October 28th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Mark 10:46-52 This morning, instead of the usual prayer for illumination we begin with a meditation. After this brief meditation the sermon will begin. And so I invite you to settle comfortably in your seat, close your eyes or let your gaze fall softly in the distance. What do you want me to do for you? Jesus asks. Let the question sink in. What do you want me to do for you? Allow the question to enter through your ears and reside in your head for a moment. What’s your reply? Pay my rent this month? Find me a new partner, someone who will actually understand me? Get me an A on the test? Cure my sick child? What do you want me to do for you? Allow the question to sink down to your throat, and spread out over your shoulders. What’s your reply? Mend my broken heart? Free me from the painful memories that haunt me? Teach me how to forgive? Take away my addiction? What do you want me to do for you? Let the question sink deep into your chest, penetrating your heart. What’s your reply? Help me, help me, help me! In the gospel of Mark, Jesus asks this question more than once. Let’s hear from the cast of characters who first heard it and gave their answer. My name is Bartimaeus – Bar – timaeus – son of Timaeus. And my patch is a spot on the road just outside of the walls of Jericho. Or it was, until I met the one called Jesus from Nazareth. Jesus Son of David, that’s what I called him. I’d worked that patch for years, sitting cross-legged with my cloak spread out beneath me. When night came in and the travelers stopped passing by, I’d gather up the coins I’d collected on my cloak. I’d pull it around me, and go to the spot among the other beggars where I slept. I was begging because I was blind. I could not see, so I could not work. I could not marry. But I could hear, I could taste, I could smell. When the Rabbi called Jesus came out of Jericho, he was followed by his disciples, and by a crowd behind him. I could tell something important was going on. I could hear their excitement and anxiety. “Next stop Jerusalem,” some of them were murmuring. They’d been on the road for a while. I told you I could smell. I could feel the grit on their hands as some of them placed coins in mine. I’d heard of the teachings of this Rabbi, and I could feel the beat of his purposeful stride. I knew there’d be trouble in Jerusalem. We’d heard of the executions going on down there, the crucifixions for insurrectionists. And this Rabbi was about doing something. Who was this? King David, come to take Jerusalem back for our people? He had a power others could not see. Their sighted eyes prevented them from grasping it. This was my chance. There’s nothing to lose when you spend your days sitting in the dirt begging for scraps. I cried out as loud as I could “Jesus, Son of David, take pity, have mercy on me!” The crowds tried to stop me. They formed a wall in front of me and muttered “shut up” between their teeth. The more they did that, the more I cried out. I may have been blind but I could wail. And he heard me! He called me forward. And then he asked … he asked me: “What do you want me to do for you?” …………….. We’re Jesus’ disciples, the ones he called first: Peter, James and John. We’ve been following Jesus for some three years. First we’d just traveled through the villages of Galilee, healing the sick, casting out demons, proclaiming the Kingdom of God was coming near. But, then, just a few months ago the message changed a little. The direction of the tour became more purposeful. We were headed for Jerusalem, for the Passover. Jesus had been talking a little crazy these past weeks. We were trying to get him back on message. But he kept talking about suffering and death and something about rising again. The first will be last and the last will be first. Crazy stuff. When he first started this I, Peter, rebuked him. He set me straight. And then there was that day on the mountain top, when he was shining with divine light and talking with the old prophets. Now we don’t know whether to be excited or afraid. We brothers, James and John, saw this was our chance. We asked for a special favor. It was for our loyalty and our courage, you understand. “What do you want me to do for you?” He’d asked. We asked to sit on his right and left when he came into glory. We wanted him to know we had confidence in him. He would take Jerusalem and reign. We’d have a share, after all, we were the first disciples, right? He didn’t make any promises. He was vague as usual, something about a baptism and cup … and then he said “what you have asked is not mine to grant.” Now, as we are leaving Jericho, he hears this blind beggar. The crowd tries to shush him and hide him but he is crying out “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” He won’t stop. The wailing goes on and on. There’s really no need – Jesus always sees and hears. He called him forward – called him! Then he asked the question, the same question he asked us, just a few days before: “What do you want me to do for you?” ……………… I am the man, yes, just the man, no name in this gospel. You know me as the rich man. I’d met him on the road, back north, before he came to Jericho. They told me this Rabbi knew all the answers, and so I had asked him, what could I do to inherit eternal life? I’d already inherited a lot, my family was wealthy. But, I needed to know: would I get into heaven? He quizzed me on my life, but I passed the test. I’ve obeyed all the commandments since my youth. I have a position of respect in the community. He told me I must sell everything, give it all to the poor, come and follow him. Then I would enter the kingdom of God. This wasn’t even what I asked. I didn’t pay attention. He’s only a dirty itinerant Rabbi from Nazareth, after all. But I followed the crowd. I wanted to know what would happen. Ha! Things don’t look so good for them now! They’re headed for Jerusalem and there’s talk of suffering and death. He has that right. I see no future in this “movement” of his. That would have been a useless investment. And then here, just outside the walls of Jericho, he stops. He stops because a blind, filthy beggar is crying out for attention. All this man has is his cloak on the floor and the scraps he has begged for. Not so much for him to give up! The Rabbi calls him over – the outrage – and he asks: “What do you want me to do for you?” What do you want me to do for you? The next time you pray, imagine Jesus is asking you this question. And then reply, “help me.” We’re not supposed to pray this way, are we? We’re not supposed to come to church for what we can get out of it. We’re not supposed to talk about our needs and wants, are we? We good Christians are supposed to meet the needs and wants of others. And yet, here is Jesus, giving us this chance … to ask for anything. There’s a catch, though. In fact there are a couple. The first catch is, we can’t pull seniority or loyalty. We can’t say, ”I’ve been your good friend for so long, just look what I’ve done for you!” My 50+ years in the church won’t cut it. Whether it is time served on the missions committee, teaching in Sunday School or providing coffee hour. None of these things will cause Jesus to ask that question. The next catch is that “Just look how I’ve obeyed the rules and always done right!” won’t count for anything either. Really? My self-righteous recycling, my Bible study and praying, my abstinence from smoking and recreational drugs, my moral objection to a state-run lottery, my visitation of the elderly and the sick … all make no difference. Zero. So, what will do it? Let’s return to Bartimaeus and see how things worked out for him. …. When he called to me, oh how the crowds changed their tune! “Take heart” they said, “he is calling you.” I know, I heard. I leapt up. I left my cloak, my patch on the road, my blanket. The collection of coins taken that day scattered and rolled in the dust. I didn’t turn back. “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked, and I answered “teacher, let me see again!” And, just like that, I could see: everything. I could see the sign pointing to Jerusalem, 15 miles away. I could see the disciples bright eyed, and anxious. I could see the crowd, not understanding but filled with hope. He told me my faith had made me well and I could go on my way. But I could see his eyes, inviting me to go with him. He had heard my cry, what else could I do? I would follow him, all the way. ………………. Writer Anne Lammot says there are three essential prayers: Help, Thanks, Wow. She says “Sometimes the first time we pray, we cry out in the deepest desperation, ‘God, help me.’ This is a great prayer, as we are then our absolutely most degraded and isolated, which means we are nice and juicy with the consequences of our best thinking and thus possibly teachable.” [1] And, as one of my seminary professors used to say, “the only prayer you ever say, is when you haven’t got a prayer.” “Help me!” Is the plea that Jesus hears, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me, take pity!” The trick is, we have to cry, and we have to cry out loud. We can’t allow the crowd to block us out. We can’t let Miss Manners shush us. We can’t let years of loyalty and credentials get in the way. And, so, I invite you to let it rise, from your heart, from your inner most being. The grief, the lament, the wail. At first it’s a low moan, barely audible. Up, from the gut, to your throat. Don’t stifle it, don’t swallow it back down. Let it out … Jesus Son of David, have mercy on me! And then hear him say “What do you want me to do for you?” You will know the answer. May God’s people cry out, Amen [1] Anne Lammot, Help Thanks Wow: Three Essential Prayers, (New York, Riverhead Book, 2012)
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