Mark 10:46-52
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| Nicolas Poussin, Jesus Healing the Blind of Jericho (1650) The Louvre. Paris, France |
Rhythmically reciting the Jesus Prayer in this way can be very helpful when we want to pray, but don’t know yet quite what we want to say, and just need to settle down, be quiet, and focus. The priest who taught me this prayer remarked that in just a few words, it brings home to us profound truths of the Christian faith: we call upon the Name of Jesus as Lord and Messiah; we confess him to be the Son of God; we implore his mercy; and we acknowledge ourselves to be sinners.
The Jesus Prayer echoes several prayers recorded in the Gospels. One is that of the tax collector in the temple who stood afar off and would not lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast and cried out, “God be merciful to me, a sinner!” Another is the cry of Bartimaeus in today’s Gospel: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” For Bartimaeus, it was a repetitive prayer as well: Many ordered him to be quiet, but as the Greek text literally says, “he kept on crying out, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me.’”
Who was this Bartimaeus, the blind beggar sitting by the roadside? Saint Mark tells us that he was the son of Timaeus, which is exactly what the name Bartimaeus means. (In Hebrew and Aramaic the prefix “Bar” means “Son of.”) Of the hundreds of blind, lame, deaf, and sick people healed by Jesus, only a few are actually named in the Gospels. Some modern commentators have speculated that they’re the ones who became members of the Church and were known by name in the communities for which the Gospels were written. In the early fifth century, however, Saint Augustine suggested that to be named in Saint Mark’s Gospel, Bartimaeus and his father Timaeus must have been prominent and prosperous residents of Jericho, but that Bartimaeus had fallen on hard times when he went blind. That he was not blind from birth is borne out by the Greek text, where a better translation of his request, “Master, let me receive my sight,” is actually something more like, “Rabbi, let me see again.” And a better translation of the concluding sentence, “Immediately he received his sight …” is, “Immediately he regained his sight …”
Saint Augustine also proposes that blind Bartimaeus begging by the roadside symbolizes the condition of fallen humanity. He once could see, and he enjoyed great wealth and possessions; but now he sits in darkness, having lost almost everything, unable to help himself by himself.
A basic principle of Christian spiritual theology is that in those dry spells when we feel forsaken by God, when it seems that that we’re sitting in darkness—when we can’t pray, and wouldn’t know what to say if we could—at such moments our sense of being far from God, our very desire to pray, and to be in relationship with God, no matter how hopeless a prospect that may seem, is indeed evidence of the Holy Spirit moving within us. We’re not abandoned, because God himself is drawing us in. As Saint Paul says in his Letter to the Romans: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words.”
Moved by the same Spirit, Bartimaeus calls upon the name of the Lord. When he hears that it’s Jesus who’s leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great multitude, he’s able to articulate and repeat the simple supplication, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”
On hearing his cry, Jesus stops and tells his disciples, “Call him.” This command foreshadows the Risen Lord sending his apostles into the world to preach the Gospel and to bring to him peoples of all nations. The disciples obey the command and call the blind man: “Take heart, rise, he is calling you.” As Bartimaeus springs up, he throws off his cloak – probably his most valuable possession. Here, the contrast is palpable with the rich young man who just a short time ago went away sorrowful because he was unwilling to part with his wealth in order to follow Jesus.
Jesus invites Bartimaeus to specify his request: “What do you want me to do for you?” It’s exactly the same question he asked last week of James and John, the sons of Zebedee. Their answer was full of pride and ambition: “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” By contrast, Bartimaeus’s answer is humble and basic; and it perhaps reflects a deeper understanding of what Jesus has to offer: “Master, let me regain my sight.”
“What do you want me to do for you?” Both the Lord’s question and Bartimaeus’s answer call to mind a story from the Old Testament First Book of Kings. The Lord appears to King Solomon in a dream and says, “Ask what I shall give you.” Solomon replies: “Give thy servant an understanding mind to govern thy people, that I may discern between good and evil, for who is able to govern this thy great people?” This answer pleases the Lord, because Solomon has not asked for anything for himself, such as long life, or riches, or victory over his enemies. So, the Lord grants Solomon the gift of great wisdom, as well as long life, riches, and honor.
In like manner, Jesus grants Bartimaeus his request: “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” But instead of going his way, Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way: that is, the road from Jericho up to Jerusalem, where Jesus will suffer, die on the cross, and after three days rise again. In the early Church, however, the Christian faith itself was known as “the Way.” Bartimaeus has not only regained his sight, but he has also been transformed from a blind beggar sitting on the roadside into a model of faithful discipleship.
The challenge for each of us this morning is to imagine Jesus asking us the question: “What do you want me to do for you?” How shall we answer? Do we have the courage to ask for the wisdom, understanding, and vision that will enable us to cast aside every encumbrance and follow Jesus on the road that leads to eternal life?
