Sun Kwak, “The Son of Honor”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLvOBSgRfWU

TEXT: Mark 10:46-52

[46] And they came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. [47] And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” [48] And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” [49] And Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you.” [50] And throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. [51] And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man said to him, “Rabbi, let me recover my sight.” [52] And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.

SERMON: “The Son of Honor”

I’m going to begin our time with words from George Herbert, who so poetically weaved together the truths of God’s grace and the reality of our frail humanity. He writes — Oh, let me rise as larks harmoniously and sing this day thy victories. Then shall the fall further the flight in me. And it’s that last part that I want to hone in on. Because in lifting his heart up to his God through singing and praising, here is Herbert who says that he reaches new heights by furthering his fall. And you and I ask — How can anyone fly higher by falling? Well, it’s only when the fall is upward. And it only makes sense when we see things upside down. That in seeing the upside down kingdom of Jesus and the upside down pattern of the gospel that we fall upwards into God’s grace. Reaching new heights, not because we’ve climbed but because we’ve fallen. That in our Savior’s condescension, he’s stooped down and he’s caught us. And it’s this humility that we mark as the essence of our reaching new heights, of our honor in the kingdom of God.

When you look at our passage today, we have blind Bartimaeus, who’s actually the very last healing incident in the Gospel of Mark. So, he’s the last part of a larger section before what we know as the Triumphal Entry or Palm Sunday, which we enter into in the very next passage. And in a way, he’s a connecting figure, who brings these two sections together. Because it’s there, on Palm Sunday, where children in the crowd will say — Hosanna! But also would be proclaiming what Bartimaeus was the first to do here in our passage, in calling Jesus the Son of David. And it’s an interesting situation, for this blind man to be able to see so clearly from his heart. We noted last time that James and John, two of the three amongst the inner three disciples, requested of Jesus that they sit at his left and his right in the new kingdom. And their request, once again, wasn’t so much asking for the best room in the house. But they were asking to be in positions of importance, like those of prime minister and general. Because their understanding of the kingdom was a little bit off. But Bartimaeus, as we mentioned, is asked the very same question from Jesus that he had just asked James and John — What do you want me to do for you? And this exact question is answered differently by Bartimaeus, who just said and said again — Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me! Meaning, not that he wanted to be elevated to a position of importance but he understood himself to be on the wrong side of the battle. And in acknowledging his sin, he’s calling upon Jesus to have mercy as the king, who’s ultimately victorious on the battle field. Because there’s no mistaking what Jesus has come to do.

We read here in verse 46 that they came to Jericho. And what this represented, among other things, was a convergence. There was this massive group of people who were headed to the annual Passoverin Jerusalem. But then, this place in Jericho and the route there presented its own narrative. This was the passage way that was referred to as the passive blood, because it was a road filled with robbers and bandits and beggars. And it’s clear to the likes of Bartimaeus, that Jesus didn’t avoid the likes of himbut precisely came in order to battle for the likes of him. And here we have a blind man, who’s unable to see, who’s lived on the bottom of society’s totem pole. And he somehow hears that Jesus of Nazarethis coming through, and the eyes of his heart open. It must have been that the one who opens the eyes of the blind and the ears of the deaf had visited this man with absolute truth and an objective claim for him to be able to utter such truth claims. And like Bartimaeus, that’s our objective this morning — not just to identify Jesus among the crowds and to address him by his appropriate title. But in doing so, we get to know that he came for the likes of us — not those who are well-off and self-sufficient and honored already. But for those of us who are crippled, who are spiritual incapable, who are dead in our trespasses and have used our energies to dishonor our God. It’s for the likes of us that Jesus has come. And through Bartimaeus, we attain the proper perspective to know of this gospel convergence, as the king makes his way to Jerusalem.

There’s this scene in Remember the Titans, which is one of my guilty pleasure films I like to watch here and there. Not quite sure why I feel guilty watching it — there’s nothing wrong with it, just a little cliche, but sometimes, you need that dosage of cliche. Denzel Washington plays Coach Boone, and he’s coming into this world of segregation in Alexandria, VA in the early 70’s. And so, as a black coach, he’s expecting hostility and resistance. But then, there’s this early scene, where he’s around black people. And to them, he doesn’t look like an imposter but he looks like their emblem of hope. These black fathers and their sons, these football players gather around him in front of his porch. And one of them goes — You’re like an answer to our prayers. And to this Coach Boone responds — I’m not coming to be an answer to your prayers. I’m not Jesus Christ or the Easter Bunny. I’m just a football coach. And this dad’s immediate response — Well, you’re our coach. And I don’t know why. I always found that scene strangely comforting. And of course, he’ll face some opposition and will have to handle tension and friction amongst the black and white players and the town. But in this moment, someone was able to say — You’re our coach, because I can trust you to be for a people like us.

And I’m picturing Bartimaeus here. He’s obviously not able to see, but then, he hears about Jesus. And it’s not just Jesus but Jesus of Nazareth. And it’s well-documented that Nazareth was this no-name country town with no relevance to it. It was a poor place and an irrelevant place. And so, this Bartimaeus grabs a hold of this and seemingly says — You’re my Savior. I know you’ve come to save a people like me. And Jesus could have come to his people in however fashion. He’s God, and he gets to do what he wants. But he comes to a family of poverty, to a town of irrelevance, and he picks up the trade of a commoner. And it made him incredibly accessible to the likes of shepherds in the field and demon-possessed prostitutes and fishermen from Galilee and blind and socially downtrodden beggars. And there’s actually something that Mark really tries to emphasize, because this passage is actually filled with all sorts of repetition. And the first of these is actually something obvious but something we may glance over. And it’s that this Bartimaeus is referred to as a blind beggar. And it’s necessarily redundant in that blind and begging don’t mean the same things. But there’s closely associated, where one could suggest or even guarantee the other. For those who were blind, begging on the street was the only way where they could make a means for survival. The blind were often cast off into the streets, even amongst their own family members, because they weren’t able to master a trade or able to bring in economic benefit to the home. And so, there they would be, in the likes of this passive blood, where it was dangerous and where they could be not just mocked and ridiculed but exploited. Where the likes of bandits and robbers could take whatever was on their cloak in their acts of thievery and deception. So, there’s an emphasis there. But then, there’s a second emphasis. And it has to do with how Bartimaeusis described as the son of Timaeus. And this is particularly redundant, because bar in Aramaic is translated to be son. And so, the name Bartimaeus actually means Son of Timaeus. And so, we ask — Why would Mark include this repetition? What could be the point of emphasis here?

Because he’s saying the same thing twice. But I think there’s something here. Bcause I think part of understanding this comes with our understanding of what Timaeus means. With the word τιμη meaning honor, this is rendered as the son of honor. And you think about the irony by which Mark constructs these words here. Because he writes in verse 46, when introducing Bartimaeus, he writes there Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus. Sandwiched right in between this Bartimaeus and its definition of it being the son of honor is the middle description, that he’s a blind beggar. And this is Mark’s way of saying that it’s not in spite of but because of the fact that he’s a blind man who’s socially downtrodden that he’s a son of honor. And how can this be? For he who was likely abandoned by his own earthly family due to his blindness. And thus, he was dishonored as a son in his own family with them leaving him and disassociating with him. But here, his name is not only repeated, it’s restored. Because while he was left and abandoned and dishonored by his earthly parents, here the Father looks upon him and says — That’s my guy. And he bestows upon him honor, as one who has a rightful place in his family and a seat around the family table. And before we begin putting a bow on all of this, I wonder how that speaks to some of us in here. You might not have been abandoned by your family, you might not be blind or socially downtrodden. But you and I live in a world where this kind of abandonmentand dishonor is a felt reality through so many different experiences. And if you’ve felt rejection and dishonor, the gospel offers to us a new narrative that turns these descriptions upside down.

Because something we mentioned at the beginning of our time together. Words from George Herbert— Oh, let me rise as larks harmoniously and sing this day thy victories. Then shall the fall further the flight in me. That in calling out and naming his downtrodden status and misfortune, here Bartimaeus flies in Christ. Because his king flew to him. That Jesus, unlike any other king in any other kingdom, honors men like this, who make this incredible profession of him as the Son of David, who is not just powerful but merciful to the likes of him. He may have never seen him, but he heard of him and now he heard him. And in the words of Flannery O’Connor: “Vision takes place in the depths of the mind with the assistance of emotion, knowledge, and belief.” What he felt, what he knew, and what he believed gave him vision in his heart to see Jesus.

And as we bring this to a close, this would radically change Bartimaeus, and we get this described for us in verse 50. Jesus stops and calls this blind man to him. And we note something there. What gets him to express this transformation is not as a result of being healed. But it’s at the mere mention of the name of Jesus. And as he exclaims his helplessness and calls upon Jesus, the Son of David, the long awaited Messiah. As he calls upon him for mercy, we read there in verse 50 that he threw off his cloak. And what was this cloak? This was his old identity. As a beggar, this was the very means of his livelihood. He would collect alms and food and whatever generosity passerby’s had for beggars like him. For here, he finds a completely new identity in the Son of David, who is the Son of God, who made his way to find him — coming from heaven to earth to travel this passive blood, a place reserved for the socially outcast. And to know that Jesus came for him, it changed him. For here was the true Son of Honor, who had all the honor in heaven, fully doted upon by his Father. But in view of his people, in the valleys, in our helplessness, in our cries, he leaves his comforts in heaven in order to come to us and into our dangers, into our misery, into our costs. And the Son of Honor would become the Son of Dishonor, when he would be uncloaked and flogged and disfigured to resemble the appearance of this blind beggar — naked and shamed and left for dead — when hanging on the cross for our sins.

In order that in his name and by his virtue, we as daughters and sons of the king, might be able to sit in the seats reserved for us — seats of honor, seats of righteousness, seats of God’s family and dignity. Because of what Jesus came to do on our behalf. You and I are a blinded people — blinded by our sins, blinded by our self-sufficiency, blinded by our temporary desires and wants. But may we learn from Bartimaeus. That when we hear that King Jesus, that Jesus of Nazareth is near, that we might remember our identity in him — throwing off our cloaks of self-sufficiency and clinging to him who clung to his people in absolute commitment. Because that happens for us every Sunday. Every Lord’s Day, we have an opportunity to come together as those who admit to our God that we have nothing to bringaside from our sin that makes our salvation necessary. We do this in our confession, we do this when we extend beggar’s hands at the Lord’s Table, we do this when receiving the benediction with open palms. We come as those being reminded of the riches of the gospel that covers for our spiritual poverty with a brand new identity in Christ and in Christ alone.