Sermon: Cameras and Projectors

Text: Mark 10:46-52

Introduction
Here we are at the end of Being 101: You Exist! Now What?! We’ve covered topics like community, parts theory, communal trust, relationships, dealing with suffering, and servant leadership. Today we wrap it all up with the story of Jesus restoring the sight of Bartimaeus.

At first glance, this is a simple healing story. Bartimaeus is blind, he calls out to Jesus, and Jesus heals him. But if we sit with this text and listen deeply, we’ll notice layers that speak to something more existential. Bartimaeus is not just a blind man seeking sight. He represents all of us who live in a world where true vision—spiritual vision—is often clouded by fear, labels, and the need for control.

Part 1: Cry out to Jesus. Mark 10:46-47
⁴⁶ Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. ⁴⁷ When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Everyone in Jericho knew the blind beggar. He was unique. An oddity. Every community seems to have them. We have “the homeless guy” here in Medina. Everyone has a name, a family system, and life story we aren’t privy to. For example, “the homeless guy” is named Dennis.

Instead of just being “the blind beggar,” this man is named. Bartimaeus, we’re told, means son of Timaeus. Timaeus means “Precious One” in Greek. Yet the full name, Bartimaeus, is a strange Semitic-Greek hybrid meaning “Son of the Precious One.” This might tell us his parents were a mix relationship: one Jew, one Gentile. Some scholars see a special significance of the story in the figurative reference to Plato’s Timaeus who delivers Plato’s treatise stating that sight as the foundation of knowledge.[1] Maybe this is a pop culture reference of the first century that we no longer understand.

Last week, I talked about how the disciples never truly understand Jesus. They argue about who is the greatest and want to sit at his left and right hand. Though they are closest to Christ, they fail to truly see him. In today’s story, it’s the blind beggar who recognizes Jesus, crying out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Illustration: For those of us with sight, our eyes are not only camera—they are also projectors. We both see our world, taking things in like a camera. Yet we also project meaning on things. We have mental filters that layer our ideology, our politics, our understanding of the world onto the things we see. This leads Rabbi Shemuel to say, “We do not see things as they are. We see things as we are.”[2]

It took me until college to start noticing my own filters. I understood the world through being a straight white Appalachian Catholic male. It took me meeting folks who didn’t hold all or any of those labels for me to start questioning my projectors. It made me wonder… am I really seeing someone else or am I just seeing myself reflected back?

When Colby Martin was here, I marveled at his ease. He was pretty laid back. After his talk, we went to dinner. I’m often so focused on picking out my order, being quick and efficient so not to trouble the server, and making sure I follow the rules… Colby asked the name of the server. Asked their opinion on the menu. Here’s something new. This felt more Christlike. Ask the name. Ask for input. Trust it. To allow for the agency of others.

Sometimes I’m so busy following the rules in my head… rules I made up… that I’m projecting onto the situation. In doing so, I might just miss the image of God that’s right in front of me.

Part 2: Leave Your Cloak: Mark 10:48-50
⁴⁸ Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” ⁴⁹ Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” ⁵⁰ Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.

Bartimaeus calls out, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” The crowd tries to silence him, but he refuses to stop. He yells all the louder. In the same way, we live in a world that often tries to drown out the voice of faith. It tells us to be practical, to stick with what we can see, measure, and control. But the way of faith—Jesus’ way—calls us to cry out anyway, to believe in the vision of a kingdom we can’t yet fully see.

When he is called, Bartimaeus throws aside his cloak. This would have been his protection from the elements. Maybe it was his sole possession. Yet he jumps up and leaves it behind and comes to Jesus. This is true courage.

Illustration: Many of us feel blind in today’s world. Compassion, radical love, and justice—the way of Jesus—can seem distant, almost invisible in a fragmented, divided, and broken world. But this passage reminds us that spiritual sight isn’t about having all the answers or seeing a perfect world. It’s about trusting that Jesus’ way, even when it feels hidden, is present and active.

For me, spiritual disciplines have helped. They have given me insight to God’s heart, my own projections and assumptions, and have grounded me when things feel much too much. Spiritual disciplines are how I start my day. I have a devotional reading of scripture and prayer practice. Then I’ll read a chapter of a spiritual book, right now it’s The Shift by Colby Martin. Other disciplines include labyrinth walking, Lectio Divina, the Ignatian Examine, yoga, and more. This fall we have had record storms and wars are breaking out and the political raucousness. It feels all like treble and static. Spiritual disciplines help me find the bass notes of God’s love and reminders in scripture that lessen my anxiety and calm my spirit so I can face the day. Spiritual disciplines can help you let go and let God enter in and suddenly you see a way out of the dead-end you thought you were in.

Part 3: Your Trust Will Heal You: Mark 10:51-52

⁵¹ “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him. The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.” ⁵² “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

Notice that when Bartimaeus is healed, Jesus doesn’t just restore his sight and send him back to the roadside. He follows Jesus “on the way.” This is significant because it is not just about physical healing; it’s about discipleship. To follow Jesus “on the way” is to walk a path that rejects easy categories and definitions. It is to embrace a life of faith where we don’t always have a clear roadmap, but we trust that the way of Jesus—love, justice, and mercy—is the true path, even when the world offers no guarantees.

In a Christian context, this resonates deeply with our call to dismantle harmful categories—be they social, racial, economic, or even religious—that separate us from one another and from God’s vision of justice. Faith in Jesus requires us to leave behind the binaries that divide and to see beyond the walls that keep us apart.

Illustration: Last May, right before my sabbatical… you all voted to become Open and Affirming. Meghan and myself are both open and affirming pastors and it’s lovely to be in an official ONA church. This wasn’t something we asked of you. It was something you realized about who we are as a church and who we aspire to be—and you claimed it.

All God’s people are free to gather and discuss the great questions of life no matter your label: race, orientation, gender expression, etc. Open and Affirming means… even if you’re not sure of everything… you are welcome here. If you have definite views of who God loves and who God doesn’t, then this isn’t the place for you.

Because James and John had definite opinions, they completely missed who Jesus was and what he was about. It was Bartimaeus who saw who Jesus was, named him, and came along side Christ.

I once had all the answers. Or thought I did. Turns out my eyes weren’t just cameras. They were projecting my meaning, my labels, the way I thought things were onto people and I was missing them. I just had them categorized as “blind guy” or “server” or whatever. Through engaging in spiritual disciplines, of leaving my cloak behind and following Jesus, I have found a trust that has saved me.

Existentialism teaches that life’s meaning isn’t something we grasp and hold onto as a fixed certainty, but something we create through our choices, commitments, and actions. In the same way, following Jesus is a dynamic journey. It’s not about certainty; it’s about trust. It’s about stepping into the unknown with faith that God’s love will sustain us, even when we can’t see the whole picture. It’s a humility and dedication of becoming a life-long learner that so many of you are and that gives me a lot of hope.

Conclusion:

Bartimaeus’ story invites us into a deeper trust. It calls us to open our spiritual eyes and to see beyond the categories that limit us and project our meaning onto others. It reminds us that Jesus’ way—though often hidden from view—is the path to true life. Today, may we have the courage to cry out in faith, to throw off our cloaks, and to follow Jesus, even when we don’t have all the answers. All you need is trust.

Or to put it as Robert Capon once wrote, “The good news is that the son of man came to save the lost and heal the dead. The only requirement is to be lost or dead.” Thanks be to God.

Works Cited

[1] Mary Ann Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-Historical Perspective 1996, Fortress Press. p189.

[2] Talmudic tractate Berakhot (55b.)