Healing and Hurt

One of my favorite things about our language is a turn of phrase or idioms; I love the way they short-hand common experiences and provide a level of familiarity. I love these turns of phrases, because they fast track our communication. Recently, I looked into the origins of one of my most often used idioms: “hurt people hurt people,” it’s a way to express that when we have been hurt or are hurting, it is often second nature to hurt those around us as well. I was surprised to learn that while it resurged in the 1990s, it was first recorded in a Texas paper in 1959. Apparently, it arose from a lecture put on by the Parent-Teacher Association of Fannin Junior High and was reported about in the Amarillo Globe Times, Mr. Charles Eads says, “The statement is, ‘Hurt people hurt people.’ So, maybe before I wound someone next time, I’ll stop and think if it’s because I’ve been hurt, myself. I’ll try to remember.” [1] After I read that I was struck by the truth that there is nothing is new under the sun, because even our idioms that seek to heal bits of brokenness return to us again and again, and finding out that Mr. Eads was recorded as saying this to a group of (likely contentious) parents and teachers in 1959 serves as a bit of a wakeup call in 2024. Hurt people hurt people, it comes up even when I read through our gospel passage today.

Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, is the center of the passage, his cloak over his shoulders sitting on the roadside. He cries out in faith, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” as the disciples and Jesus were leaving Jericho and they are surrounded by a large crowd, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Can you hear the desperation in his? “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And then the crowd scolded him and ordered him to be quiet, can you imagine it? A ravenous a joyful crowd following Jesus and the disciples scolding a blind beggar begging for mercy? Hurt people hurt people.

And so Bartimaeus cries even louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus, at the hearing of the cries calls Bartimaeus to him and he is so excited that he throws off his cloak, and runs to Jesus’ voice. Jesus doesn’t follow suit of the crowd in trying to quiet this beggar, but asks first and foremost, “what do you want me to do for you?” The blind man asks to see again, and Jesus heals him and tells him that his faith has made him well. Rather than going on about his way, he chooses to continue to follow Jesus on the way. Bartimaeus is healed by the Messiah in one of his great miracles, but one of the things that leaves my mind wandering is the reality that while we have seen how true it is that hurt people hurt people, it is equally true that healed people heal people.

Jesus’ miraculous healing of Bartimaeus’ sight was not the only healing that happened that day. Bartimaeus went from an outcast beggar scolded by scores or people to calling the Messiah “Rabouni,” a word meaning not just teacher, but one of intimacy used only one other time in the gospels by Mary at the tomb. Bartimaeus’ healing is one of inclusion and belonging and purpose, not just sight, and I wonder how many people he helped heal as he continued to follow Christ.

Today’s gospel is a story about seeing and being seen. It’s a story about healing and hurt. But it’s also a story about a crowd of people; a crowd of people who *were* followers of Jesus actively hurting someone desperate for Christ’s healing. And this is where our gospel story today holds me.

This crowd of followers were probably doing their best; they wanted to follow Jesus, and yet still failed to see. This is where our story today holds me; this is where our gospel story forces me to ask myself if I’m part of the crowd. I have to wonder if in my own hurt if I am perhaps hurting others. It’s the crux of wanting to do the right thing, and yet failing; it’s the intersection of being unable to see and unwilling to be seen that makes me ask where is the Good News? If I see myself in the crowd, where is the Good News?

When it comes to the miracle stories of Christ, I try to see and appreciate the miracle, but also to see beyond that to ask what is the Good News? The truth of this miracle story, I believe is that it isn’t just good news for Bartimaeus who was able to see the Messiah and to be healed, but that it’s also the Good News for the crowd who fails to see him. It is good news, because our story doesn’t have to end with us being unable or unwilling to see. Christ can enlighten who we are and what we do, Bartimaeus’ healing can be part of our healing, too. The question is how will take what this story has to teach us? How will we carry the lessons not just from Christ or Bartimaeus, but perhaps especially from the crowd into our lives this week.

This is a story about seeing and being seen; one of hurt and healing. It is my hope and prayer that as we go out this week that we will have the eyes to see like Bartimaeus, a compassion like Christ, and that we, when we are like the crowd, will choose to pause and remember that this fragile earth carries enough hurt. My prayer is that we will let this story change us, that we will let Christ’s love heal us, and that we will let it change how we move through the world. Again and again we get to choose who we will participate in the world God is creating. My prayer is that we will choose to be more like Christ and less like the crowd. My friends, take heart; get up, God is calling you to this healing work!

---

[1] https://slate.com/culture/2019/09/hurt-people-hurt-people-quote-origin-hustlers-phrase.html

This sermon was delivered to the people of Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green, KY on Mark 10:46-52 for Proper 25B on Sunday, October 27, 2024.