There
was a marvelous meditation in last month’s Magnificat
(October 2021, p. 356-7) taken from a St. Josemaría Escrivà homily regarding
the Bartimaeus passage in Mark. Escrivà (1902-1975) was a priest from Spain who founded the religious
institution, Opus Dei, an organization where mostly lay people commit to a life
of holiness. Here’s the Gospel passage first:
They came to
Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho
with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of
Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. On
hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son
of David, have pity on me.” And many
rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more,
“Son of David, have pity on me.” Jesus
stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him,
“Take courage; get up, he is calling you.”
He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want
me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has
saved you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way. (Mk 10:46-52)
One
certainly identifies with the blind man and we empathize with his
predicament. Escrivà puts us into Bartimaeus’
shoes.
Don’t you feel the same
urge to cry out? You who are also
waiting at the side of the way, of this highway of life that is so very
short? You who need more light, you who
need more grace to make up your mind to seek holiness? Don’t you feel an urgent need to cry out, Jesus, son of David, have pity on me? What a beautiful aspiration for you to repeat
again and again! I recommend that you
meditate slowly on the events preceding the miracle, to help you keep this
fundamental idea clearly engraved upon your minds: what a world of difference
there is between the merciful Heart of Jesus and our own poor hearts! This thought will help you at all times, and
especially in the hour of trial and temptation, and also when the time comes to
be generous in the little duties you have, or in moments when heroism is called
for.
Yes,
meditate on Bartimaeus’ helplessness, and that the only power he has is to call
on Him. That is us, today, here and now,
in a desperate state with the only real power we have is to call on Him: Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.
Escrivà continues to turn the screw on your Bartimaeus predicament:
Many of them rebuked him,
telling him to be silent, as people have done to you, when you sensed that
Jesus was passing your way. Your heart
beat faster and you too began to cry out, prompted by an intimate longing. Then your friends, the easy life, your
surroundings, all conspired to tell you: “Keep quiet, don’t cry out. Who are you to be calling Jesus? Don’t bother him.” But poor Bartimaeus would not listen to
them. He cried out all the more. Our Lord, who had heard him right from the
beginning, let him persevere in his prayer.
He does the same with you. Jesus
hears our cries from the very first, but he waits. He wants us to be convinced that we need
him. He wants us to beseech him, to
persist, like the blind man waiting by the road from Jericho. Let us imitate him. Even if God does not immediately give us what
we ask, even if many people try to put us off our prayers, let us still go on
praying.
So
when Escrivà puts us in Bartimaeus’ shoes, it’s not that we are transported to
Bartimaeus’ time. We are Bartimaeus in
our contemporary time. Imagine now our
Lord approaching you, and just as Bartimaeus can’t see Jesus, so too are you
blind to Him. Escrivà continues for the
climax:
And now begins a
marvelous dialogue that moves us and sets our hearts on fire, for you and I are
now Bartimaeus. Christ, who is god,
begins to speak and asks, What do you
want me to do for you? The blind man
answers, Lord, that I may see. How utterly logical! How about yourself, can you really see? Haven’t you too experienced at times what
happened to the blind man of Jericho? I
can never forget how when meditating on this passage many years back, and
realizing that Jesus was expecting something of me, I made up my own
aspirations: “Lord, what is it you want?
What are you asking of me?” I had
a feeling that he wanted me to take on something new and the cry Master, that I may see, moved me to
beseech Christ again and again. Lord,
whatever it is that you wish, let it be done.
And
so you ask Him, I want to see, and if you let Him touch your eyes, you can see
Him. After this encounter, Bartimaeus
followed Jesus all the way to Jerusalem to His Passion. In those moments you do see Jesus, when you
feel His touch on your eyes, you can do nothing else but follow Him all the
way.
This
was a moving meditation.
