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| The Healing of the Blind of Jericho, Nicolas Poussin |
These simple words, called the Kyrie, must be ranked among the most politically incorrect parts of Christian worship. It’s mostly lost on us, but the first century denizen of Rome, knew immediately what it meant.
In the ancient world, that’s how you addressed a conquering king if you wanted to keep your head. They didn’t have freedom of speech. People that publicly said, “Caesar is not my emperor,” were likely to be executed.
In last Sunday’s gospel, the blind beggar used these words: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me” (Mark 10:47). Not only is he implying that Jesus is his real emperor, he even highlights Jesus’ rightful claim to the throne by calling Him “Son of David!”
The crowd knew it immediately and they were terrified. Their reaction was swift and to the point. “Many were admonishing him to hush up” (that’s a southerner’s translation of Mark 10:48). The emperor had informants and soldiers everywhere. Not only Bartimaeus, but all of Jericho could get into serious trouble.
But Bartimaeus wasn’t scared. He repeats is even louder! He deliberately wanted to make this confession of Jesus. Blind though he is, he sees better than most.
And while most are seeking to silence Bartimaeus to save their skins, Jesus does just the opposite. He adopts a totally regal posture. He does exactly what the emperor was known to do in his processions.
Standing still, He dispatches curriers. “Summon him,” He says. Then, asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” By this question, He claims all power and authority to do every good.
This is an electric moment! You can feel it in the air. The revolution is beginning in Jericho, 30 miles from the capitol city of Jerusalem. The crowd is large and growing. Soon, Jesus will be entering the city on a royal steed (donkey) and all of Jerusalem will be saying “Hosanna to the Son of David.”
When revolution is in the air, you are forced to take a side. You will either kowtow to the rulers and power-brokers of this world, or you publicly renounce their lordship and cry out, “Christ, have mercy upon us!”
To cling to Christ and his word alone is to hate the world and be hated by it. To make peace with the power-brokers of the world is to hate Christ. There is no middle ground.
The blind beggar is the first to see it clearly. He shows us the way. “Lord, have mercy upon us,” is not a whimper. It is a battle cry. To seek the mercy of Christ is an act of defiance against the world.
Early Christians were fed to the lions for saying this. Christians facing ISIS are shot and beheaded for saying this. How much social stigma are you willing to bear to say these words?
I know how much Jesus is willing to pay. By stopping and standing and acting like the Emperor He is, He set his feet on the path to the cross like nothing before. He has just made Himself public enemy number one by helping the beggar.
He is neither ashamed to do it, nor afraid to do it. Here is a cosmic clash between Christ and the devil playing out on a crowded street. And it seems that only Bartimaeus and Jesus know what’s going on.
That’s typical of the Christian life. Ordinary, everyday events have eternal and cosmic significance. Your choices either to resist sin or to cave into it are monumental battles. Your choice to be a public Christian or to blend in with the crowd is an act of defiance or of deference with implications for your children and grandchildren.
May God grant you the vision and courage of blind Bartimaeus.
