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2024 10 17 - Pentacost Last B


 Saint Margaret’s 

Anglican Church

Budapest, Hungary



"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" 


If, like me, you grew up in the Roman Catholic Church of the 1950s and 60s, or in certain Anglo-Catholic church communities, you may remember the expression, Kyrie Eleison.   Although the words were an essential part of the old Latin Mass, they are actually Greek and mean simply, Lord, have mercy. Somehow, ages ago, these two words survived the transition of the liturgy from the everyday Greek of the ancient world to the everyday Latin of the early Middle Ages. Perhaps they were considered too important and sacred to be spoken in the common language of the people. Nobody really knows. For the most part, however, they have not survived the most recent revisions or reforms of worship in the Roman Catholic or Anglican traditions – at least not in Greek.


Typically, the words, Kyrie Eleison, or the similar, Christe eleison, Christ, have mercy, were repeated three times towards the beginning of the liturgy. We sang the English equivalent by the way moments ago in response to our Confession of Sin and just before the Absolution. These words also remain an important part of the liturgy of the Orthodox churches throughout the world. And, if you ever attend an Orthodox service, you will be struck by the multiple repetitions of this very phrase throughout the service. Depending upon the particular church and the church season, the people may chant this simple supplication well over a hundred times on Sunday morning.  Kyrie Eleison.


“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me,” shouts Blind Bartimaeus to the great annoyance of those around him as her hears that Jesus is nearby.   The phrase, or terminology, occurs elsewhere in the Gospels as well of course; and typically, as here, in response to Jesus’s approach and presence.  And in all such instances, as best I can recall, our Lord does indeed have mercy, bringing about healing and forgiveness. 


Bartimaeus is by the way the only one of all such petitioners mentioned by name in the Gospel accounts. Scholars debate the significance of this.  It is after all a somewhat odd name, a hybrid in fact of Hebrew and Greek sources, and meaning in itself Son of Timaeus.  Mark somehow goes out of his way to emphasise that Son of Timaeus means Son of Timaeus.   Some scholars even see in the name a reference to Plato’s famous treatise of the same name, Timaeus, a work which emphasises the temporal and eternal and the importance of insight and knowledge.  Could be...  But perhaps Mark simply wanted to emphasise that even street beggars are very real people, with very real names, and deserving of very real dignity.  


Scholars also note that the placing of this story of healing in Mark’s Gospel is important, since it appears in the text immediately after the quarrel among the disciples about who among them is to be the greatest, the story we heard last week as you will recall. In other words, while the disciples, ironically those closest to Jesus, are seemingly in the dark about the true meaning of the Gospel, as Mark seems to be implying, even a blind beggar along the roadway, a nobody, sees somehow instinctively what Jesus is about. 


Even a blind beggar knows Jesus as the Christ, the Son of David, in other words. And, he has sense enough to beg not for glory, as do the disciples, but for mercy. The call for mercy, whether uttered by a blind beggar in the Gospels or as part of a sacred liturgy, is a poignant reminder of our own dependence upon God for all the good things of this world and for life itself. For, if you yourself have ever been severely ill or sick, you will know what it is like to be dependent upon others. 


Find yourself in a hospital bed, and you quickly become dependent upon staff for the most basic of human activities and functions.  Decades ago, I was in hospital for nearly a week following surgery, and I can vouch for this reality.   Or, simply come down with a heavy cold or pneumonia, and you may well end up relying on family members or friends to bring nourishment, hot chicken soup perhaps, and words of comfort and encouragement.  Imagine then poor Bartimaeus’s plight and utter dependence, blind and reduced to begging others for sustenance and assistance. No wonder he turns to Jesus for mercy.  


Kyrie eleison is perhaps less about our human proneness to sin and evil and need for mercy and more about the Lord’s bounty and acceptance of us, no matter our frailty.   Lord, have mercy. In fact, some saints believe this to be very nearly the perfect prayer; that we need say nothing more. Lord, have mercy.  In some monastic circles it is referred to as the Jesus Prayer and is repeated by the monks throughout the day until it becomes a kind of chanted mantra, a habit of thinking and a way of seeing the world. Bartimaeus, I suspect, would have approved of the Jesus Prayer, for he was one of the first to pray it. And his very human plea for mercy led him to follow Jesus “on the way,” as the text tells us.


The phrase, “followed him on the way,” could simply mean of course that Bartimaeus walked behind Jesus on the pathway or road, perhaps out of idle curiosity, just to see where Jesus was going. Bartimaeus could after all now see.   It could also mean that he became a genuine follower of Jesus; and this seems the more likely interpretation. In any case, Bartimaeus is never heard from again in the Gospels.  Or anywhere else for that matter; no medieval legends about his life; no churches named after him as far as I know.  But the clear implication is that this blind beggar restored to sight, this nobody, one of us in some ways, comes to see the true meaning of the Gospel.  Perhaps only as we too cry out for mercy, as does Bartimaeus, will we also be restored to sight and follow after Jesus along the path of life.  


“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”


Amen.


The Rev. Dr. Frank Hegedűs

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