Preached on Sunday, October 28, 2012 at the Church of the Holy Trinity on Manhattan's Upper East Side. The Scripture readings that this sermon is based on can be found by clicking here.
In today’s gospel, we hear the story of the healing of a blind beggar. And not just any blind beggar. The beggar who is healed is given a name. It’s rare for the characters in parables, or for the people that Jesus interacts with on a one-off basis, to be named. But in this case, we know that the blind beggar’s name is Bartimaeus. The name itself tells us something about the blind beggar. Bartimaeus is, and his name implies, the son of Timaeus.
I’m going to mention another name to you and see if you recognize it. Linus Van Pelt. Those of you who are old enough to remember newspapers that were actually printed on paper, an increasingly rare phenomenon, that, on Sunday’s, had color comic strips, just might remember Linus Van Pelt. Linus is, of course, a character in Charles Schultz’s comic strip Peanuts. Linus is a friend to Charlie Brown, brother to Lucy Van Pelt, devoted love-slave of the little red haired girl, and owner of a very important blue blanket.
Linus’s blanket is the chief source of his sense of security. One of his most famous quotes is, “Happiness is a warm blanket.” He is often seen in Peanuts strips holding it over his shoulder while sucking his thumb. He is pathologically attached to his blue blanket and becomes ill -- dizzy and disoriented -- when it is taken away. On one occasion, his bratty older sister Lucy takes it away from him and buries it, to see what effect it will have on her little brother. Linus digs up the neighborhood in an effort to find it. Lucy carefully records Linus’s symptoms, and then wins first prize in the school science fair, when she enters Linus and his blanket as her chief exhibit, along with her findings.
In psychological terms, Linus’s security blanket is a transitional object. An object that comforts him during his transition from infancy to toddlerhood to childhood. The blanket helps Linus feel safe when he begins to change and the world around him begins to change. He literally clings to it for safety, sure that even if all else changes, as long as he has the same blue blanket safely in his possession, under his control, all will be well -- or at least well enough.
The transitional object stage is one of early childhood, but it’s funny how it can creep up again in other phases of life and in other situations. One situation that comes immediately to mind is the transition congregations go through when they lose clergy and then begin to engage in the process of calling new clergy. Very often these transitions can be very stressful, very anxiety-provoking. Our beloved or not so beloved priest has left us. Our initial response might be, “Finally!” or perhaps, “I’ll miss him,” or even, “How dare he?” or often some combination of all three! We can’t be sure if our next clergy leader will be better or worse. What will he be like? What will she want from us?
She? Hey, wait a minute!
And almost anything can become a transitional object, a security blanket in such times. And if we cling to that security blanket, we believe, we’ll make it through. It might be the style of liturgy or the music program, it might be the service leaflet or the Christmas pageant. It can be the placement of the pews or the placemats in the parish hall. Any and all of these can be the thing we seek to cling to in times of transition.
Very often these times of transition call upon us to have more faith than we really believe we do. We seem to lose our faith in redemption, in resurrection, in new life, in the promise of salvation. We lose faith in that whatever lies ahead, our God will not leave us orphans, will not abandon us to peril and perdition.
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Now consider Bartimaeus in this morning’s gospel. He’s sitting by the side of the road. Jesus and his entourage go by and Bartimaeus begins to call out. The son of Timeaus calls out, “Son of David, have mercy on me.” (10:47) This is the first time in Mark’s gospel that Jesus is so addressed. Son of David is a political term, a messianic name, that carries with it some powerful overtones. And in this first occurrence in Mark’s gospel it comes at Jericho, as Jesus is headed to Jerusalem, where he will have his final, deadly conflict with the religious and political authorities there ensconced. So, interesting, isn’t it, that it is the blind man who first sees Jesus this way. It is the son of Timaeus who first recognizes the Son of David when he walks by.
When Jesus sends through the crowd for Bartimaeus, Bartimaeus throws off his cloak and springs up. Think for a moment about that cloak. It was probably just a rough piece of fabric, probably in size and material not too much unlike Linus’s blue blanket. As a beggar, it was likely all that Bartimaeus owned. It was probably his sole outer garment, his shelter from the weather when he could find no other. He probably slept on it or under it, covered his head with it in the rain. He might have sat on it while he begged. Maybe even gathered it in front of him as he sat on the dusty road and begged passersby to drop a coin into it.
But when Jesus calls for him, he throws it off and springs up to heed Jesus’s call. All he owns in the world, he throws off and leaves in the dust when Jesus calls to him.
Recall if you will our gospel reading a few weeks ago from Mark (10:17-31). It precedes our reading this morning by just a few verses. In that reading, Jesus tells the rich man that he must leave behind all he has and follow him. Jesus doesn’t have to tell Bartimaeus to do that. Bartimaeus, who has so little, leaves it all behind in an instant, to come when Jesus calls. And of course it is Bartimaeus who is given what he asks of Jesus, and is healed. And of course it is Bartimaeus who is quick to follow Jesus in the way of new life.
Donald Winnicott is the pediatrician and psychoanalyst who developed the theories about object relations and transitional objects. He believed that transitional objects become important for children just as they are discovering that there are people and things in the world that are not under their control. As children discover the difference between ‘me’ and ‘not-me,’ they often adopt a transitional object, a security blanket. The transitional object is the first ‘not-me’ thing that the child owns and can control, which can be a comfort in a world where mommy don’t always come when you cry, and toys break, when a dreaded bedtime comes too early.
Not me. That’s what Bartimaeus gives up when he sheds his cloak -- not his transitional object, but his only object, his sole possession -- to be healed by Jesus, and to follow him. And as he gives up all his ‘not me,’ he becomes a more whole ‘me.’ His sight is restored, and he joins those following Jesus.
That is the message of today’s gospel. Discover what is really you, and what is really not you, no matter how much you love it. Remember, clinging to that security blanket may make you feel good, but it won’t heal you. It isn’t what you lack, not really, and it isn’t what you need.
Answer God’s call; the call to go forward. Come to Jesus who calls the real you, without the trappings, into a new life wherein we are made whole, our sight is refreshed, and our lives take on the purpose for which they were intended: following Jesus, to Jerusalem and into glory everlasting. Amen+
© The Rev. Mark R. Collins
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