(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Sunday Worship on Oct 25, 2015)
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A Jesus-Genie?
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked this question last week to James and John. He asks the same question this week to Bartimaeus, a blind beggar (Mark 10:36, 51). If you read these two stories alone, you might come to the conclusion that Jesus is a genie who grants wishes. Indeed, it almost seems like that was the conclusion James and John had come to. Remember the way they made their request? “We want you to do for us whatever we ask of you? … Grant us to side [beside you] in your glory” (Mark 10:35-36).
But if James and John had thought they’d stumbled on a magic lamp, they find out quickly that Jesus is not a wish-granting genie. When he asks you, “What do you want me to do for you?”, he’s not guaranteeing the fulfillment of your wishes. James and John had wished for glory, but Jesus tells them that the glory of God is much different than they expect.
Jesus, in effect, tells them, “Be careful what you wish for.”
The Tale of the Magic Wishes
Speaking of wishes…there is a curious similarity here between Jesus and the familiar fairy tale of the magic wishes. The fairy tale, of course, has many variations. But its basic plot is this: A man or a woman stumbles upon a magical being—a fairy, perhaps, or a magic lamp with a genie inside. The magical creature grants wishes to the individual. “What fortune!” the person thinks. But as we all know, there only lies trouble ahead. In one variation of the story, the person wishes for something the full implications of which he has not anticipated. Think of King Midas. Turning everything that you touch into gold seems like a good idea—until your friends and loved ones draw near. In another variation of the story, the lucky individuals make their wishes so impulsively that they end up having to use the last wish to unwish what they have wished. There is an old English folktale where the man wishes for a sausage because he is hungry, and the wife—upset at the silliness of such a wish—makes a thoughtless wish herself: that the sausage were attached to her husband’s nose. At this, the man cannot contain his anger…nor his wife her laughter! Finally, however, they agree to use the last wish to remove the sausage from the man’s nose. (In this variation, then, they at least end up one sausage better than they began.)
In all its variations, the fairy tale of the magic wishes seems to have grasped at a certain truth. It suggests that perhaps we do not know what we want as clearly as we think we do. In the end, did King Midas want gold? Or the love of living relationships? In the end, did the old English couple want the power to satisfy their every whim? Or simply an evening together with a shared meal? According to the fairy tale of the magic wishes, we do not know what we really want.
A Question That Cuts to the Quick
If we believe that God is a living reality in our world, then we should not be surprised to hear strains of the gospel outside the church. Throughout history, Christians and non-Christians alike have heard God’s call and have grasped at the truth that they have felt in their hearts, and in their words and stories we can sometimes hear the divine truth that they are seeking. Perhaps, then, it is no coincidence that we hear an echo of the gospel in the common folk tale of the magic wishes.
In other words, the same question that Jesus asked James and John, the same question he asked Bartimaeus is a question that has haunted the many souls who have told the folk tale of the magic wishes. At the heart of this folk tale is the question, “What do you want?”—or as Jesus asks James and John, as he asks Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” It is a question that stirs in our hearts as well. Because more often than not, we realize that our own desires are somehow shallow or lacking, that there must be more to life than what we are usually chasing.
The story of Bartimaeus opens our eyes to this reality, to the fact that our desires are much deeper than we normally think. Bartimaeus is a beggar and a blind man. And yet, he sees what James and John could not. He sees that Jesus’ question is not the beginning of a magic trick in which Jesus will grant “whatever” request is made. It is, rather, a question meant to cut to the quick of our hearts, a question meant to carve away the surface desires that society instills in us, a question meant to open our eyes to who we are. The blind man can see what the writer of Hebrews meant when he wrote that “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joint from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb 4:12).
Not an Answer We Give, But an Answer We Live
How easy it is for us to hear the question, “What do you want me to do for you?” as James and John did, as a question inviting an immediate request. But if the blind man’s response is any indication, this is a question for our soul, not our spur-of-the-moment cravings.
St. Ignatius of Loyola, in fact, recommended that we take this question seriously every day of our lives. He recognized that this is not a question to be answered with our lips but rather with our hearts.[1] “What is it you want?” is a question that puts us in question. It is a question that doubts our weak and ever-changing desires, that pushes us beyond them to a deeper desire. C. S. Lewis once wrote that we are “half-hearted creatures”; we fool about with “drink and sex and ambition”;[2] and, I might add, we fool about with seeking validation on Facebook, with having the last word in an argument, with proving our superiority over others. And all the while, we neglect the desire stirring underneath all these petty desires. We neglect our desire for wholeness and freedom and grace and forgiveness and the heartbeat of God’s love in our many relationships. So Ignatius recommended that each day, as we pray, we submit ourselves to the question, “What do you want?”, that we let it excavate our thoughts and feelings until we have come to a point where our desires might be seen to originate in God’s desire for us.
When Bartimaeus encounters Jesus, he does what he has always done: he begs. But here he begs not for the surface desires that we might imagine him normally begging for: food, money, whatever will help him to continue living as he always has. Here he begs for life, for what will transform his life. It is no accident that he leaves the cloak of his begging life behind him when he approaches Jesus. He is ready for change—even impatient for it.
“What do you want me to do for you?”
This is a question that, if the example of Bartimaeus is anything to go by, demands not an answer that we so much give as an answer that we live. It demands that we live our lives searchingly, that we search our hearts and live by the divine desire deep within us. It demands that whenever we find ourselves saying, “I want this,” or, “I want that,” we ask ourselves, “What is it in ‘this’ or ‘that’ that I desire?” And maybe if we keep asking that question, we will find that, like Bartimaeus, what we really and truly desire is to leave behind our place on the wayside, where our weak and petty desires have kept us begging, and to follow the way of Christ.
Prayer
Your question to us, God, puts us in question. Do we really want what we are begging for? Unravel us this morning. Carve through our half-hearted desires to the point that we would deny ourselves. Expose us to the deep desire that stirs beneath all the wishes we make to the point that we would leave our place on the wayside and follow Christ. Perhaps at the secret heart of all our desire is that you would walk by and we would get up and follow you. Amen.
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[1] See the emphasis that Ignatius places on praying our deepest desires. Kevin O’Brien, The Ignatian Adventure: Experiencing the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius in Daily Life (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2011), 26.
[2] C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses (New York: HarperOne, 2001), 26.
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