One of my favorite images from last week’s Round Up was Erin Roden seated on the ground, painting kids’ faces. Erin was holding someone’s chin, working away with the brush, and lined up in back of the one being painted was a whole row of kids, one behind the other, each one intently oriented to Erin. The kids were so excited you could see twinkle marks in the air around them. It was hard to tell if the kids’ anticipation was over what they would have painted on their face, or whether it was knowing Erin would soon be holding their chin and they would be the center of her undivided attention. I love that image, because it’s the image of how Jesus wants us to be as disciples—intently focused on him, anticipating his love and attention. Bartimaeus is the one at the front of the line today, his chin held in Jesus’ hand with the Healer’s undivided attention. Even though, according to everyone in the crowd, he was supposed to be at the other end of the line.

Today’s gospel lesson works on a couple of contrast levels. On one level, the “insiders” are contrasted with the lone outsider who definitely “gets it” as far as Jesus goes. The insiders might be the objects of wisdom’s mockery in Proverbs. On another level, there is the ironic comparison of blindness and vision, a blind man who “sees” and fully-sighted folks whose vision of the coming kingdom is clouded and inaccurate.

Before you conclude that you at least would be like Bartimaeus and “see” things Jesus’ way, let me remind you that the “insiders” in Mark’s gospel—the ones who don’t come off looking so good—are the ones we are supposed to identify with. As the so-called sophisticates of the civilized world, we are more inclined to think that the world is too complicated to make hard and fast rules about things. And maybe that’s true. But Jesus told Bart that it was his faith that enabled him to regain his sight, and Lady Wisdom says “unfaith” is despising self-evident knowledge. Being too cool to see the trust thing at work. Being too cool to use the J-word. Being too scientific, too rational, to give God the credit for or the permission to do the amazing miracles of life.

We are caught in a bind with today’s scripture. On the one hand, no one wants to give up the luxuries and comforts that science and reason have given us. On the other hand, truly, things are a whole lot simpler than we’d like to make them out to be. 21st century Americans are good at seeing—and grasping—life’s complications. But perhaps the advantage to us in seeing life only as very complicated, is that we let ourselves off the hook. We don’t have to take responsibility for the woes in the world, because they are so complex. Who could solve the unemployment situation? Or Oregon’s tax revenue problems? Or health care issues? Things are too complicated for individuals to make an impact! But hear this! The gospel tells us that things are really simple. We already know what God wants of us. It is as simple as the image of the kids anticipating getting their faces painted. What God wants of us is our attention, our lives, our love. It’s that simple.

Join Lady Wisdom and stand on any street corner in America—even metropolitan Estacada—can you see what she is ranting about? Do we see our fellow human beings as welfare-to-work goals, the failure of the Oregon Health Plan and overcrowded prisons, schools not getting the support they need and more demands on our volunteer resources? Or so we see those same humans as simply someone Jesus loves. Hence, as our sisters and brothers. Hence, as someone we are called to help. Where is blindness and where is vision? The crowd around Jesus saw Bartimaeus with the first type of vision. They saw someone who needed fixing. Jesus saw someone who was already loved.

Rick and I are on presbytery’s Opening Doors Task Force, providing resources for churches to become more welcoming to people with disabilities. What I hear people with disabilities and their parents talking about is life is on the receiving end of the projected fear of the fully-abled. Will I catch what they’ve got? What if my kid turns out like “them”? Are these people going to ask more of me than I’m willing or able to give? People like Bartimaeus, pushed to the margins of polite society. Let the government deal with “them.”

What I saw Springwater people doing at the Round Up last week was searching out the ones at the edge of the crowds, folks looking for the margin-hangers and pulling them back into the group, making them feel accepted and at home. Hospitality. Bartimaeus didn’t have anyone do that for him. “Hey! If this creep gets to Jesus’ before me, he’ll get all Jesus’ attention, and there won’t be any left over for me!” As if there is only “so much” love, and anything directed at someone else means you are gypped out of your “fair share.” We’ve all seen this in kids. A new baby comes into the family, and suddenly the parents don’t have time for me anymore. Logic says that because the baby is getting all the attention and I’m not, there is only “so much” love to go around. I’ve got to compete for it. We don’t outgrow this. Grown ups experience this as a secret fear. People might brag about their kids, and right away it feels like my kids aren’t getting their share of attention because their kids are in the limelight.

These outsiders can teach us “insiders” a lot. Earlier in Mark, Jesus was visited by a rich young man thinking about following this important teacher, but in the end, he found he couldn’t part with his (many) possessions to follow Jesus. Poor old Bart only had one cloak, but he gave it up completely to get to Jesus. No wonder Jesus thought Bartimaeus had faith! He gave up everything, even his little nothing. He was so grateful for what he received, he immediately followed Jesus.

What do you see? An older woman sits at the table next to yours in the restaurant. You notice her fumbling for her glasses and finally asking the wait person to read the menu to her. Do you hitch your chair away so she doesn’t include you as one of her potential helpers? She’s dressed pretty well, but she reminds you of your great-aunt who used to lecture you about your manners. She’s alone—what if she’s one of those chatty obnoxious types who thinks everyone in the world is dying to see photos of her grandkids and hear long, boring stories about their exploits? But what if she turned out to be Jessica Tandy or Georgia O’Keefe or Mother Teresa. Would you turn your chair a little differently, maybe meet her eye, smile, strike up a conversation? What if every “old lady” turned out to be that important and interesting and lovable?

What do you see? What if you saw the person who should have been at the end of the line, right up at front, Jesus holding that person’s chin in his hand, looking into his face, giving him his undivided attention. Do you need to look around to make sure no one else is around? What if people thought you were like “them”? It’s one thing if this person is admirable and cool, but when it’s the kid everyone makes fun of—people might make fun of you! Or the cool kids won’t let you eat lunch with them. Or maybe this one will need some sort of messy relationship and your own resources will be drained—time, emotional energy, creativity, money. What do you see? Are we blind to what Jesus sees? Or does our vision of the coming kingdom include letting Jesus heal our blindness?