As Jesus was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great multitude, Bartimæus, a blind beggar, the son of Timæus, was sitting by the roadside. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent; but he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; rise, he is calling you.” And throwing off his mantle he sprang up and came to Jesus. And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man said to him, “Master , let me receive my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.- St. Mark 10:46-52
Our Lord was travelling out of the city of Jericho with His disciples, and there were lots of people along with them. Everyone was headed for Jerusalem to keep the Feast of the Passover. Christ knew what was waiting for Him there: He would eat the Passover meal for the last time with His apostles; one of them would betray Him into the eager hands of those who had come to hate Him; He would be put on trial; He would be mocked and spat upon, and He would shoulder His cross, dragging it to the place where He would be pierced with nails and then be raised up in agony, when He would then die as the final and true Passover Lamb, sacrificed for the sins of the world. Christ knew all that.
But for now, none of those travelling with Jesus knew these things. As far as they were concerned, this was a Passover pilgrimage, a time to go to the city of Jerusalem and worship in the great temple there. So we can imagine that there was plenty of talking going on. It was a festive time because they were going to up to Jerusalem to celebrate. What Christ’s divine mind knew about what was to come – of all those things, His apostles were completely ignorant. This was a time for animated conversations, and for asking Jesus questions and straining to hear his answers as they walked along. He was, after all, their Master, and they were used to sharing ideas and conversations with Him.
But above the noise of the crowd a voice is heard. It was the voice of poor old blind Bartimaeus. He was one of the lowest people on the social scale; he was accustomed to crying out to catch the attention of passers-by because he was a blind beggar, living off the charity of others. And here he was, begging again – but this time, begging for his sight. Everyone was telling him to be quiet, but he kept it up until finally Jesus stood still and asked that Bartimaeus be brought to Him. And then came the question: “What do you want me to do for you?” Of course, Jesus knew already what Bartimaeus wanted, but it was important for Bartimaeus to ask. “Master, let me receive my sight.” And the response? “Go your way; your faith has made you well.”
This healing of Bartimaeus is particularly interesting because of its place in the timeline of Christ’s earthly ministry. It is the last healing recorded in St. Mark’s Gospel. In Jericho, Jesus and the apostles were only about seventeen miles from Jerusalem. The period of His ministry in which Jesus had performed His miracles had already come to a close, because, as the Gospels tell us, “his face was set towards Jerusalem.” He was headed for the cross now, and He had already made the point He wanted to make through His miracles and His words. He had proclaimed the Kingdom of God, and the manifestation of His divine power had already done its work. Those who saw and believed were blessed; those who had seen but who did not believe certainly were not going to be convinced by one more healing. And in fact, those around Christ there in Jericho – His apostles and other disciples – they already believed, insofar as they were able to know and understand. That is what makes this healing all the more noteworthy. This was something Jesus did which really made no great difference to the purpose of His earthly ministry. In fact, when compared to the panorama of events that was about to unfold in Jerusalem, it was insignificant – insignificant, that is, except to one person: Bartimaeus. For old blind Bartimaeus it was a work of mercy and an act of love.
And that’s exactly why Jesus did it – to remind us of how important it is to stop for something that might seem to be insignificant to us. We can get so absorbed in our own work, our own interests, our own goals, we can get so caught up in what we think is important, that when an individual gets in the way of any of that, we think of him as a nuisance. We see this even with parents who are so busy providing enough to give their children what they think is a good life, that they don’t have enough time to share the joy and wonder of life with their children. Or doctors who are so taken up with the intricacies of medicine that they don’t spend time comforting a patient who’s facing a frightening surgery. Or teachers who are so involved with the business of education that they can’t spare the time to guide just one child who’s getting left behind. Or priests who are so busy with parish programs that they neglect to take the time to give comfort to somebody who is in spiritual darkness.
But Jesus did take the time. Now, from a purely human point of view, one more blind man healed wasn’t going to make a big difference to the totality of Christ’s earthly life and ministry. But it made a world of difference to Bartimaeus. To Christ, a work of love was never a small thing, nor should it be small to us. From a purely human point of view, what’s one tiny private act of kindness? A drop in the bucket. But Jesus highly values those little things. That’s why He reminded us that whatever we do to the least of His brethren, we’ve done to Him. And the opposite also is true: whenever we’ve neglected to do some small kindness, neglected to give some word of comfort, neglected to do some work of charity, we’ve neglected Christ himself.
When Bartimaeus called out, Jesus stopped. He gave all His attention – the whole of His divine mind and the whole of His Sacred Heart – to this one blind old beggar. Maybe that’s the key point for us in this Gospel: that Jesus stopped. It’s so easy for us to get caught up in a self-imposed schedule, doing all sorts of things that seem to be important, but which really have little lasting effect on people who matter. How many times have you heard it said by someone, or you’ve said it yourself, “I’m so busy!” It isn’t easy to stop; it isn’t easy to take time with people who need our time. But Jesus never healed anyone while he was “on the run.” And we cannot expect to have much good effect on our loved ones and on others if we don’t stop long enough to be with them.
The giving of time – and with it, real respect towards someone else as a person who matters – meets a fundamental human need. It may help explain many of our larger social problems. So often people just want to lump other people together as a particular class, or a particular group, and not as individuals with special worth and dignity.
Jesus Christ, as the Incarnate God, did not come generically “to the world.” He comes to you and He comes to me. When He walked upon this earth, He didn’t simply preach to the crowds; He stopped for blind Bartimaeus. And that’s the way He has remained: when He comes to us in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, He is telling each one of us, “I love you. I died for you. I give myself to you.”
In many ways, we’re like poor old blind Bartimaeus, calling out to Jesus. Christ gave Bartimaeus his sight, and we have to pray that He gives us our sight as well: sight, so that we can see Christ in every person. And if we have that sight – if we have eyes to see Jesus in others, and are moved to treat them with the same love and respect as we would treat Christ Himself – then, like Bartimaeus, we will be following Christ the way He wants to be followed.
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Painting: "The Healing of the Blind of Jericho"
by Nicholas Poussin (1593-1665)