| Nameless Blind Man |
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| Written by Administrator | |
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Why was I born this way? What is the purpose of my existence?
Mark 10: 46-52 Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, bar-Timaeus (that is, the Son of Timaeus), was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus stopped and said, "Call him." So they called to the blind man, "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you." Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. "What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked him. The blind man said, "Rabbi, I want to see." "Go," said Jesus, "your faith has healed you." Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road. - - - - The man in front of the congregation is blindfolded. It is not a clean blindfold. Neither is his cloak, his heavy coat, ripped, dirty and appropriate for a homeless beggar. He speaks... "I am the nameless beggar whom young Mark, the disciple of Barnabas, wrote about in his Gospel, long about the tenth chapter. I am known as the son of Timaeus. I have no given name, since my mother did not name me when she found I was born blind. She pushed me off on one of her servants to raise, and I lived with the old woman who took me and gave me life. She also did not name me. She told me to ask the Lord what my name was, for she did not know what is was. She told me, when I was old enough to question my state, that I was blessed to be born among the Jews. If I had been born among the Romans, I would have been put out on the hillside to die. Much later, I had cause to wonder if I had been blessed or not, to be a Jew. My concept of the world is my own, and it makes sense to me, although to hear others talk, what they say makes no sense at all. Rome is another small village not far away. So is Athens, Corinth and Jerusalem. There is also Greece, but why people would live in a place named for cooking fat, I cannot fathom. Then there is the sun, a great bird that flies in the heavens above, raining fire down upon the land, burning our heads when he is above us. But when he goes away the world turns cold. People call the time of his coming, Day, and when he is gone, they call it Night, but these words have no meaning for me. Sometimes it rains, but not in our houses, for the lord protects everything inside those four walls, making sure the rain only falls without. And I am most familiar with the sun bird and the rain, since I have lived out on the streets and on the land for most of my life. My foster mother died when I was young, so there was nothing to do but to go begging on the streets. So I will tell you what it is like to be a blind beggar. People throw your food at you. If there are dogs about, it is great sport for them to watch you fight the curs for your bread. But the bread is almost always sour - moldy and dry. It was years before I understood that bread was anything different. Once, someone gave me a fresh cut of bread, sweet and warm. It was not a good turn they did me, for thereafter, I much loathed my daily food. Water is another issue for me. When I am walking from village to village, if I stumble upon a stream or puddle, I drink from it. I must, since I am always thirsty from the heat of the sun. But since I cannot see, sometimes the water is bad - muddy, they say. I cannot tell it from fresh, and sometimes it makes me very ill. And when I sit in the village at the well, It is hot and I must wait for someone to come and bring me a drink. Sometimes, a person will come and move me a few feet, where it is somehow much cooler. Why one place would be cooler than another, I do not know. Perhaps the sun bird does not spread his flames there. I wear a rag over my eyes. It is required. People get upset if they see my dead eyes, for some reason. There are a lot of children born blind, I hear. Most of them don't live long, out in the world, where there are places to fall from, or water to drown in, or wild beasts roaming about to devour. Many of them are lucky though, having a family to live in, and to be cared for by people who love them. I know about love too. I know about women who are beautiful. You can always tell one who is, by their sweet, quiet ways, for they never scream or cast bitter words at you. Other women, I am acquainted with too, who are shrill and hateful. They are the ones who lack any beauty. I think my mother might have been that way. Why my estranged father ever married such an ugly woman, I do not comprehend. I remember little about my father. He was a scribe who did things with parchment and scrolls for payment from people in the village. Once when he was gone on a trip, I found my way into his room and felt the soft scrolls, smelling their leather. I touched the feathers he used, which people told me he used to make marks on the scrolls. It is all too wondrous for me to comprehend, for I could feel no marks anywhere. What magic he could do! Sometimes I dream that I can see. I am not sure what that means, but I know then I have a life. I am a scribe, like my father before me, and I have a beautiful, quiet wife - and children. I know where children come from. If a man and a wife are very good, and are kind and loving to each other, the Lord God sends his angels to them with young children, and then they have a family. That was not so hard to figure out. But I have questions for the Almighty. The Elder at the Synagogue scolded me for saying such a thing, but I do have questions. Why did he make children blind? Why is my life so hard? I would do work and have a trade. I know I could learn. I would have a real life and have a family. I would have a good standing with my fellow man, and not be scorned by all who see me. Why, God, did you make me this way? Why do I not even have a name? I do have a possession, though, a cloak, a nice, heavy one. However, the man who gave it to me must have been getting rid of it, for it was soiled, and it smelled. It still smells. It does. I loath the smell of it in the heat of the sun. But I dare not throw it away, no matter how I am tempted to do so. For I need it desperately at night, when I am shivering in some doorway, or along some road. It is all I have to keep me from the cold. So, no matter how I hate the thing, I cling to it. I do apologize for my appearance to you, therefore. Please forgive the rag about my eyes, and this cloak, which is likely not as nice as the ones you are wearing. - - - - I am sitting here, under the great sun, with my head burning - again. But, someone told me this is a good place to beg. I have gotten coins, instead of moldy bread. They were right. I am along side the Jericho road. The King's Highway, they call it, since King David built it a while ago, and people like to walk on it into Jerusalem, another small village at the end of it. I have been to the village Jericho. There were rough men at the gate who turn people like me away, so I cannot enter. But there is coming a commotion. People are shouting about the Messiah. I know about him (who does not?), since he is reported to be the One sent from God to bless our nation. It is said of him that he feeds the poor and heals the cripple. (I am very glad I am not a cripple. I couldn't walk anywhere if I was!) It is said of him that he even gives sight to the blind! If he is coming this way, I will shout out to him. I have a lot of questions for God. Maybe he can answer them for me. Why do you make blind children? Why can I not have a life? A family? A trade where I can work with my hands? Why don't I have a name? He is coming! I can hear the crowds around him shouting! I shout too. "Son of David! Have mercy on me!" People standing around me kick at me and scorn me. "Be quiet!" I will NOT be quiet! I shout all the louder! People quiet down suddenly. The Master speaks. "Call him." People around me say, "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you." I get to my feet and start to go to him. "But wait. I cannot go to him looking and smelling like this!" So I throw off my cloak, my only possession. I pause again, however. What question shall I ask him? "Why do you make children blind? Why did you make me blind? What is my NAME? Give me a family, a trade - give me LIFE! Oh, I have so many things to ask him. What shall I say? So I go to him, searching with my hands outstretched. People push me along, until I am suddenly before him. I fall on my knees there. Jesus speaks. "What do you want me to do for you?" The words spring to my lips. "Rabbi, I want to see!" "Go," said Jesus, "your faith has healed you." Hesitantly, I remove my bandage. "Light?!" "I CAN SEE!" I look around me, at the grimacing faces. I realize that they are smiling! I see the glorious, blessed sun overhead (not a bird at all)! I see people have coverings on their heads, to protect them from the heat of the sun! I see the road we are on! The distant horizon - and everything! Then, I look upon the face of the One who healed me! On my knees I praise him and the God above who sent him into the world. (And I know my Name at last, for he gave it to me!) I also knew why I was born, and the reason that I was born as I was. It was to meet the Lord Jesus face to face, and to know his all-consuming Love! There is no longer any hesitation in me. I know what to do. I get to my feet, and follow him. I did not know that he was going to Jerusalem (such a big place!). He was going there to be honored as the coming king, but also to be abused and to horribly die on a cross! But that didn't matter to me. I would have followed him into Hell itself, for he gave me my life, and it is forfeit to him now. These many years I follow the risen Lord Jesus. I am still his disciple, for he is LIFE itself! - - - - Do you know that all of you are as I once was? All of you. Walking around, blind in this world. Not knowing where you are going and what you are doing in the world. What you do, what you eat, and what you drink is little different than what I did, and what I ate and drank. You have no name in this world either. Not a real one. Not the one he will give you. You also have something disgusting that you are clinging to, because you think you must have it. But you need to give it up. You must throw it off, and come, kneel at the Master's feet, and be cleansed. Be born again. Be given a lasting Name that only you and him know. You must go to him, and walk with him on the King's Highway, with his assembly. There, no longer will you be blind, but you shall truly see! Come. Let me introduce you to the Lord. |
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