[Dialogue] More miracle stuff from spong
KroegerD at aol.com
KroegerD at aol.com
Wed Dec 6 18:05:10 EST 2006
December 6, 2006
Miracles VI: Bartimaeus and the Healing of the Man Born Blind
In this continuing examination of the miracle stories found in the gospels, I
turn this week to the second "sight to the blind" narrative in Mark (10:
46-52), the story of blind Bartimaeus. Then I will look briefly at the only
Johannine account of a miraculous restoration of sight (John 9: 1-41). We will, I
hope, begin to see that while there are six 'sight to the blind' stories in
the gospels, four of them look like little more than a retelling of one of
Mark's two episodes.
Matthew gives us two versions of the blind Bartimaeus story (9: 27-32 and 20:
29-34) and Luke gives us one (18:35-43). John's single restoration of sight
narrative, even though he uses elaborate language and enfolds his story
inside the interpretive web of Johannine theology, is still nothing but a
retelling of Mark's first story of the blind man from Bethsaida. So the first thing a
modern expositor of the gospels needs to embrace is that there appear to be
only two original traditions behind these six presumed to be miraculous
accounts. As I tried to show in the previous column on this subject, Mark's first
story about the blind man from Bethsaida is filled with hints that it is not
a miracle story at all, but is rather a parable about Peter who, like the
hero of this story, was also remembered as a blind man from Bethsaida who came
to his ability to see only slowly by degrees. Today, I will look at all of the
biblical versions of Mark's second story about blind Bartimaeus, and then to
complete this analysis of sight restoration miracles in the gospels, I will
look at John's single story, to demonstrate that it too is not a new episode
but just another version of Mark's account of the man from Bethsaida.
In Mark's gospel, the story of the healing of blind Bartimaeus is set in
Jericho just before the Palm Sunday procession sweeps down into Jerusalem. That
proximity is important to embrace since the healing of Bartimaeus seems to
feed directly into the Palm Sunday events. The first thing about this story that
we need to note is that this blind man's name is peculiar. Mark calls him
"Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus." When that name is read by those who
understand Hebrew, its strangeness becomes obvious. In the Hebrew language "bar" means
son; so Bar-timaeus literally means 'son of Timaeus.' This means that Mark's
phrase, "Bartimaeus the son of Timaeus" is an odd redundancy. This man is
described as sitting at the side of the road begging, when he learns that Jesus
of Nazareth is passing by. Emboldened, presumably by Jesus' reputation as a
healer, this blind man calls out to Jesus, using one of the popular messianic
titles, "Son of David." The idea that the messiah had to be the son of
David, and thus the legitimate heir of David's throne, had been a growing part of
the Jewish expectations for some time. That theme would later inspire the
genealogies of Matthew (1:1-16) and Luke (3:23-38), both of which were written
to assert that Jesus was in the direct line of succession to the throne of
King David. This "Son of David" designation also inspired what is surely the
legendary tale of Jesus' Bethlehem birthplace since that was the city of David
and the messiah's destiny as the "Son of David" seemed to imply that he had to
be born in David's place of birth. This idea entered the Jewish expectations
in the words of Micah (5:4) in the eighth century BCE. Matthew quotes Micah
to explain why Jesus had to be born in Bethlehem. Luke also alludes to Micah
when he has the angels sing: "Unto you is born this day, in the city of
David, a savior who is Christ the Lord." The association of Jesus with King David
is a theme that will gain much favor. This information alone ought to alert
readers that perhaps this story is not a simple miracle story that has to be
understood supernaturally. This story is in the service of the messianic claim
that Jesus fulfills the expectation of being the heir to David's throne.
In Mark's Bartimaeus story, we are told that when this blind man hears the
procession moving toward Jerusalem and learns that it includes Jesus of
Nazareth, he is encouraged to cry out. Perhaps we can assume that he has heard
tales of healing power attributed to Jesus. We noted in the previous column on
this subject that Isaiah had said that when the Kingdom of God dawns, it will be
marked by the ability of the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to
walk and the dumb to speak. This means that if Jesus was to be the messiah,
healing power must be said to have marked his life. So this blind man, using a
messianic title, cries out to Jesus as the "Son of David." Mark tells us that
those with Jesus rebuke him, ordering him to be silent. That too is a familiar
gospel theme, suggesting that the in breaking Kingdom can actually be kept
under wraps, if people try hard enough to suppress it. His disciples had also
rebuked the children who sought to come to Jesus. In Luke's version of Palm
Sunday (19:28-48), the Pharisees ask Jesus to rebuke his disciples, who were
saying of him, "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord." In that
story, Jesus responded by saying that the Kingdom of God cannot be suppressed and
that if the voices of the crowd were silenced, "the stones would immediately
cry out."
Sensing that their rebuke of the blind man was not shared by Jesus, the
people informed Bartimaeus that Jesus was asking for him. Mark records that the
blind man threw off his cloak and with great exuberance, sprang to his feet and
came to Jesus. "What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked. "My
teacher, let me see again." The blind man responded. To which Jesus simply affirmed
that the request was granted, "Your faith has made you well," Jesus said. The
text then says, "Immediately he gained his sight and followed him on the
way." Since the next episode is the Palm Sunday Procession, presumably the blind
man was part of the parade. A contrast is clearly being painted in the
entire passion narrative between the blind who know they do not see and yearn to
have sight and the blind who do not know that they do not see and who,
therefore, do not seek sight. The blindness in this story may then not be physical
blindness at all. Mark has already described Jesus as speaking to those who
have "eyes to see but see not and ears to hear but hear not." (8:18). To see
the meaning of Jesus, one appears to need more than simple physical sight,
perhaps this is a reference to insight, second sight or the ability to see
underneath the obvious. The story of Bartimaeus is filled with this kind of
meaning.
The differences found in the versions in both Matthew and Luke also provide
data that suggest that later generations tended to literalize into
supernatural tales what were originally interpretative signs. Matthew, first of all, is
clearly confused by the duplication of the names, "Bartimaeus, son of
Timaeus." He deals with this confusion by omitting the names altogether and assuming
that there are two people not one in this episode. Other than this change,
he is fairly faithful to the Marcan original.
Luke reverts to Mark's single blind man but he too deals with the confusion
of Mark's peculiar naming by omitting the name altogether, then he follows the
story line faithfully. In Matthew's earlier version of this same story
(9:27-31), Matthew still has two blind men who use the title, "Son of David."
Jesus touches their eyes, gives them sight immediately and enjoins silence upon
them. One wonders why Matthew essentially tells this same story twice. One note
that might cast light on this debate comes with the realization that the
Matthean version of blind Bartimaeus comes in his text long after Jesus tells
John the Baptist that he should look at the messianic signs of wholeness that
gather around him to answer his query about who Jesus is. Perhaps Matthew
needed to include a sight to the blind story before that claim by Jesus made
sense, so he related one version of this story before his messianic claim was
made to John the Baptist and the second afterward. Everywhere one turns in the
several versions of this story, they all appear to have been originally
messianic interpretative narratives, which were slowly turned into being healing
miracles.
When we turn to the Johannine story, it is also clearly a sign of the
messiahship of Jesus. The single blind man is described as having been blind from
birth. The theological interpretation of that tragedy is debated. "Who sinned,
this man or his parents that he was born blind?" Neither, Jesus says. He was
born blind so that God could be manifested in him. Jesus next claims to be
the "Light of the world" who enables all to see. Then spitting on the ground to
make clay Jesus anoints the blind man's eyes. Once again the healing was not
instantaneous. He had to go and wash in the pool of Siloam first. Only then
does he see. Then he becomes the subject of a great debate. People wonder how
his eyes were opened. For one to see things that others do not see in the
world of darkness is threatening to the religious establishment so they
excommunicate him from the synagogue. Since this man's sight did not come through
the established religious authority, it has to be evil. That was the conclusion
of the "blind" ecclesiastical hierarchy. The story concludes with Jesus
asking the now-seeing man, "Do you believe in the Son of God?" The man responds,
"Who is it Lord that I might believe?" Jesus then overtly makes the divine
claim for himself and the man worships him. John concludes this narrative with
the words that seem to make it clear that this is not a supernatural miracle
at all; it was about the people's ability to see light in the world's
darkness; truth in the world's distortion of truth: "I came so that those who see
not might see and those who see might be made blind."
When the texts of the gospels are looked at deeply enough, they do not appear
to be supernatural tales that defy the laws of the universe at all. Rather
they are interpretative signs by which people processed the Christ experience.
Thus, to read the miracle stories of the gospels as supernatural events is
not only wrong, it is actually a distortion of the original intention of the
gospel writers. It is a pity that literalists do not understand this.
Our study of miracles will continue in the weeks ahead. So stay tuned.
John Shelby Spong
_Note from the Editor: Bishop Spong's new book is available now at
bookstores everywhere and by clicking here!_
(http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0060762055/agoramedia-20)
Question and Answer
With John Shelby Spong
Hal Wingo via the Internet writes:
As an interested reader of your columns, I feel that you are just about the
only person I can pose this question to and expect an intelligent response.
The question has to do with whether or not God ever intervenes in human history
to heal individuals or stop natural disasters in response to prayer. I am 71
years old and have lived most of life under the ministry of Baptist churches
that constantly insist that God heals and answers prayers. In the reflection
of my later years, I have come to wonder if this makes any sense at all, or
is even possible. If God is capable of inserting himself (okay, herself) into
human affairs and to change things in response to prayers of petition, what
is the best way to understand that he/she sometimes does and sometimes
doesn't? It can't be just the urgency or the numbers of prayers, can it?
I have read Sam Harris' two books that question the very existence of God and
challenges the useful purpose of any religion. He does raise questions that
cannot be easily dismissed, such as why in all of human history, there is no
record of God ever healing an amputee by regenerating a limb or changing a
Down syndrome child to one of normal health. If God does or can intervene, it
is only in situations that can be otherwise explained as natural phenomena?
Or, deeper still, should we even think of a God capable of inserting himself
into human experience? Is "God" something else entirely?
Dear Hal,
Your question is a primary and essential one and cuts immediately to the
essence of theological debate today. Yet it is one that most people who identify
themselves with evangelical Protestantism or conservative Catholicism seem to
think they can either ignore or repress. They cannot. It is also a question
that in order to address it adequately would take a book, not a column.
Sam Harris' criticism of popular religion is right on target. The weakness of
his book is that he assumes that popular religion is what Christianity is
all about.
The intervening, miraculous God is built upon the old idea of the record
keeping Deity who lives above the sky and who swoops down on earth to split the
Red Sea, or to rain heavenly manna on the starving Israelites in the
wilderness. This is also the God who delights in sending plagues on Israel's enemies,
the Egyptians, and drowning them in that same Red Sea.
This is also a God who apparently has not accepted the insights of Isaac
Newton about how the world operates. It is a world, not of precise natural law,
but of controlled chaos. Most theologians have long since abandoned such a
deity.
When people assert that God intervenes in human life to heal, they must
explain why God does that so sporadically. When people assert that splitting the
Red Sea was a miracle to save Jews from death, they must explain why God
allowed the Holocaust that destroyed Jews by the millions. It is not a simple
subject.
The only thing that needs to be said quickly is that the idea that anyone
knows who God is or how God works is ludicrous. What kind of human folly is
that? I do not think that a horse can describe what it means to be human.
Humanity is a dimension of life and consciousness that is simply beyond that which
a horse can embrace. Similarly, I do not believe that human beings can
describe what God is. The realm of God is simply beyond that which the human mind
can know. The Greek philosopher Xenophanes once wrote that "If horses had gods
they would look like horses!" Perhaps one ought to observe that most of the
deities that human beings have worshiped throughout history have looked
remarkably like human beings, magnified and supernaturalized. We have no God
language to use so we force our God consciousness into human language. Only when
that truth is acknowledged and accepted can we even begin to answer your
question.
The discussion must then turn to the nature of God, again something we cannot
know but about which we speculate endlessly. I believe God is real, but my
human mind and human language can never penetrate that reality. So I cannot
describe God, I can only describe my presumed God experience and honesty
compels me to state that I might be delusional. Only at that point can we begin a
discussion on the reality of prayer.
When I wrote a book entitled, "A New Christianity for a New World," based on
lectures I had given at Harvard University, I sought to address the issues
you raise. The book is almost 300 pages long. It challenges most of the
pre-suppositions of traditional Christianity. It seeks to find new meaning for the
most traditional symbols. It seeks to move between what I call both the God
experience and the Christ experience which I believe are real and the way both
the God experience and the Christ experience have normally been explained,
which are to me dated, inadequate and generally unbelievable. Your question
rises out of that mentality.
I hope this helps though it only scratches the surface of the territory where
an answer can be found. I want to assure you that your question is the right
question and that you are not wrong or weird to be raising it. Those who
continue to repeat the slogans of their religious past as if they are still
operative are wrong and they are increasingly weird.
John Shelby Spong
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