30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year B
Mark 10: 46-52
Jeremiah 31:7-9; Hebrews 5:1-6; Mark 10:46-52
46 They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. 47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 48 Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 49 Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” 50 So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. 51 Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” 52 Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.
“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”
Pope Francis
The Gospel of today’s Liturgy tells of Jesus who, when leaving Jericho, restores the sight of Bartimaeus, a blind man begging by the roadside (cf. Mk 10:46-52). It is an important encounter, the last one before the Lord’s entry into Jerusalem for the Passover. Bartimaeus had lost his sight, but not his voice! Indeed, when he heard that Jesus was about to pass by, he begins to cry out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (v. 47). And he shouts and shouts. Annoyed by his shouting, the disciples and the crowd rebuke him to make him be quiet. But he shouts even louder: “Son of David, have mercy on me!” (v. 48). Jesus hears, and immediately stops. God always listens to the cry of the poor and is not at all disturbed by Bartimaeus’ voice; rather, he realises it is full of faith, a faith that is not afraid to insist, to knock on the door of God’s heart, despite not being understood and being reproached. And here lies the root of the miracle. Indeed, Jesus says to him: “Your faith has made you well” (v. 52).
Bartimaeus’ faith is evident from his prayer. It is not a timid and standard prayer. First and foremost, he calls the Lord “Son of David”: that is, he acknowledges Jesus as the Messiah, the King who would come into the world. Then he calls Him by name, confidently; “Jesus”. He is not afraid of Him, he does not stay at a distance. And thus, from the heart, he shouts out his entire drama to God, his friend: “Have mercy on me”! Just that prayer: “Have mercy on me”! He does not ask for some loose change as he does with passers-by. No. He asks for everything from the One who can do everything. He asks people for loose change; he asks everything from Jesus who can do everything. “Have mercy on me, have mercy on all that I am”. He does not ask for a grace, but presents himself: he asks for mercy on his person, on his life. It is not a small request, but it is very beautiful because it is a cry for mercy, that is, compassion, God’s mercy, his tenderness.
Bartimaeus does not use many words. He says what is essential and entrusts himself to God’s love which can make his life flourish again by doing what is humanly impossible. This is why he does not ask the Lord for alms, but makes everything be seen — his blindness and his suffering which was far more than not being able to see. His blindness was the tip of the iceberg ; but there must have been wounds, humiliations, broken dreams, mistakes, remorse in his heart. He prayed with his heart. And what about us? When we ask for God’s grace, do we also include in our prayer our own history, our wounds, our humiliations, our broken dreams, our mistakes and our regrets?
“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” Let us, too, recite this prayer today. Let us repeat it and ask ourselves: “What is my prayer like”? Let each of us ask ourselves: “What is my prayer like”? Is it courageous, does it contain the good insistence of Bartimaeus, does it know how to “take hold” of the Lord as he passes, or is it rather content with making a formal greeting every now and then, when I remember? Those lukewarm prayers that do not help at all. Furthermore, is my prayer “substantial”, does it bare my heart before the Lord? Do I take my story and life experience to him? Or is it anaemic, superficial, made up of rituals, without feeling and without heart? When faith is alive, prayer is heartfelt: it does not beg for spare change, it is not reduced to the needs of the moment. We must ask everything of Jesus, who can do everything. Do not forget this. We must ask everything of Jesus, with my insistence before Him. He cannot wait to pour out his grace and joy into our hearts; but unfortunately, it is we who keep our distance, through timidness, laziness or unbelief.
Many of us, when we pray, do not believe that the Lord can work miracles. I am reminded of the story — which I have seen — of the father who was told by the doctors that his nine-year-old daughter would not survive the night; she was in hospital. And he took a bus and travelled 70 kilometres to the Shrine of Our Lady. It was closed and, clinging to the gate, he spent the whole night praying: “Lord, save her! Lord, give her life”! He prayed to Our Lady all night long, crying out to God, crying out from his heart. Then in the morning, when he returned to the hospital, he found his wife weeping. And he thought: “She is dead”. And his wife said: “No one understands, no one understands, the doctors say it’s a strange thing, she seems to have healed”. The cry of that man who asked for everything was heard by the Lord who had given him everything. This is not a story: I saw this myself in the other diocese. Do we have this courage in prayer? Let us ask everything to the One who can give us everything, like Bartimaeus, who was a great teacher, a great teacher of prayer. May Bartimaeus, with his genuine, insistent and courageous faith, be an example for us. And may Our Lady, the prayerful Virgin, teach us to turn to God with all our heart, confident that he listens attentively to every prayer.
Angelus 24/10/2021
Abandon your cloak to gain your sight
Fernando Armellini
Introduction
Homer saw, but he is depicted as blind. He was the symbol of inspired men, of those who, to penetrate profound truths, hidden from ordinary mortals, must close their eyes to the reality of this world. In ancient Greece, even the wise men, the soothsayers, and the rhapsodists were considered blind: they had to abstract from the deceptive appearances, ignore the earthly glare, and grasp the gods’ light and thoughts.
Their passionate search for truth and their commitment to education to wisdom was praiseworthy, but, in front of the great enigmas of the universe and man, they had to surrender; they groped in the dark, and they remained blind.
The Peripatetics, wearing the cloak, the symbol of those who cultivated the love for wisdom, discussed the truth while walking around the Acropolis of Athens; the academics, the Epicureans, and the Stoics reflected on pain, happiness, pleasure, and the meaning of life. In Athens, called by Cicero “the lamp of all Greece,” everyone, like the blind, turned their eyes yearning for the light. But it was not from that city that the light of the world would come.
Tiberius was reigning in Rome when, in the mountains of Galilee, a carpenter from Nazareth began to announce the Good News. It was then that “the people who sit in darkness have seen a great light” (Mt 4:16). For the ancient philosophers, the time had come to lay down their cloaks and lift their gaze: from on high, “because of the tender mercy of our God by which the daybreak from on high will visit us to shine on those who sit in darkness and death’s shadow, to guide our feet into the path of peace” (Lk 1:78-79).
Gospel: Mark 10:46-52
This passage ends the central part of Mark’s Gospel in which Jesus clarified the goal of his journey and set out the moral demands that must be met by those who wish to follow in his footsteps: gratuitous love, without reserve and limits, renunciation of possessions and all ambition, selfless service to his brothers and sisters.
Jesus has already covered a good part of his path: he started from Galilee, went down along the Jordan, and is now in Jericho. There are only 27 kilometers left to reach the destination. He is about to begin the ascent to the holy city, and with him are the disciples and a large crowd (v. 46).
From the historical point of view, a large crowd next to Jesus is likely because the caravans of pilgrims went to Jerusalem in large numbers on the Passover. Still, from the theological point of view, it is surprising. One cannot understand how it is possible that so many people still follow Jesus after he clearly announced the destiny that awaits him, the bitter cup he must drink, the rushing waters of hatred, persecution, and martyrdom in which he must immerse himself (Mk 10:38).
There is only one explanation: those who accompanied him did not understand or did not want to understand the meaning of his words. Even the disciples have not yet freed themselves from the distorted idea of the messiah that they have in their minds. In their hearts, they continue to delude themselves, hoping that the gloomy predictions he made were uttered in a moment of bitterness and discouragement and they are convinced that everything will end in triumph in the end.
Their spiritual condition is like that of the blind; they have eyes impenetrable to any light beam, insensitive to the most intense colors. The Master first rebuked them, to no avail: “Do you not yet understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and not see?” (Mk 8:17-18), then he began to cure their blindness, with difficulty, intervening several times, as he did with the blind man of Bethsaida (Mk 8:22-26). The central part of Mark’s Gospel is all about his attempts.
He is now in Jericho and, before beginning the ascent to Jerusalem, he performs one last sign: he heals another blind man. On the occasion of the Passover, the Jews were particularly generous in the giving of alms: they felt obliged to involve even the less favored in the joy of the feast. For the beggars, the exit of the city of Jericho, where the road begins to climb towards Jerusalem, was the ideal place to stand and beg for help from well-disposed pilgrims.
Among these beggars sitting by the side of the road, there was, at the time of Jesus’ passage with the group of disciples, a blind man, identified by his last name, Bartimaeus. The account of his encounter with Jesus, reported by all three Synoptics, is much more than a page of the news. The intention of the evangelist Mark is also a parable, an allegory of man enlightened by Christ. Bartimaeus is the image of the disciple who finally opens his eyes to the light of the Master and decides to follow him along the way.
Let us consider the stages that led to his healing. The first shot shows him sitting along the way (v. 46). Living is moving, planning, building, and cultivating ideas. Bartimaeus, on the other hand, rather than living, survives; he is immobile, repeats the same gestures and the exact words as an automaton, he is accompanied every day in the same environments; he seems resigned to the painful condition that an inauspicious destiny has assigned him. He represents the man who has not yet been enlightened by the Gospel and the light of Easter: he does not walk toward a goal; he gropes, caught up in the perennial and mysterious succession of being born, living, and dying.
He asks for alms (v. 46). He is not self-sufficient; he must beg for everything, even his affections; he depends on others, on things, on events. The first step he takes toward healing is becoming aware of his situation (v. 47). Only those who realize that they are leading a meaningless, unacceptable life decide to look for a way out. Some adapt to their condition, those who become attached to the disease that allows them to live lazily on handouts, and those who take pleasure in their state. Bartimaeus does not resign himself to the darkness in which he is immersed.
One day he realizes that something is about to change. He hears about Jesus (vv. 47-48) and understands that he is about to be presented with the opportunity of a lifetime: he can meet the ‘Son of David,’ listen to his healing voice, and open his eyes. He overcomes hesitation and fear, embarrassment, and shame. He cries out, and asks for help, no longer wanting to remain in his state.
Healing from spiritual blindness also begins with a deep inner restlessness, with the rejection of a life devoid of values and ideals, with an internal dissatisfaction that stimulates one to seek alternative proposals, that make one attentive to new discourses, to models of life different from those that society and current morality propose.
The encounter with those who follow the Master is the first step towards the light (v. 47). Before reaching Christ, one encounters the disciples, and there are difficulties to overcome. Those who reflect and begin to wonder if what they are doing makes sense soon realize that they are moving against the grain; they immediately feel thwarted in their efforts to meet the light of heaven. Colleagues in bowls, ambiguous business partners, and even friends, perhaps in good faith, put obstacles in the way, invite silence, suggest forgetting the evanescent themes of faith, smile at the torments of the soul, object that these are the concerns of psychologically weak people.
In the face of this opposition, the blind man is not discouraged; he continues to invoke the light, is not ashamed of his condition, does not hide his anguish; he cries out and asks for help from those who can open his eyes. Even those who accompany Jesus can be an obstacle for those who try to approach the light of the Gospel. It seems impossible that those who followed the Master from Galilee, listened to his word, and belonged to the group of disciples could still be spiritually blind (Mk 8:18) and an obstacle to those who want to encounter Christ. Yet it happened in Jericho, where ‘many scolded Bartimaeus to silence him,’ and it continues to happen today.
Verifying whether Christ has indeed enlightened one or whether one only follows him materially is quite simple. This is revealed by the sensitivity one has to the cry of the poor who ask for help. Those who are bothered by it, those who pretend to ignore it or try to silence it, those who are busy with higher, more devout, more sublime projects and do not have time to take care of those who are groping in the dark, those who believe that there is something more important than stopping to listen, to understand, to help those who wish to meet the Lord, these people, even if they impeccably fulfill all religious practices, are still blind.
Jesus hears the cry of Bartimaeus (v. 49) and demands that he be brought before him. His call does not come directly to the blind man; someone is in charge of transmitting it. These mediators represent the authentic followers of Christ, sensitive to the cries of those who seek the light. They are the ones who devote much of their time to listening to the problems of their brothers and sisters in difficulty, who always have words of encouragement, and who show the blind the path that leads to the Master.
In words addressed to those who have spent a lifetime in the darkness of error, there is no reproach, but only an invitation to joy and hope: “Take courage; get up, he is calling you” (v. 49). We have thus come to the last stage. The blind man leaps to his feet, throws off his cloak, and runs to meet the one who can give him sight (v. 50). These are very unlikely gestures; this is not how a blind man behaves typically. It would be more logical to expect that, placing his cloak on his shoulders and moving with an uncertain step, he would let Jesus accompany him. Instead, he throws everything away, leaps to his feet, and runs quickly.
As it appears, the scene cannot but have a symbolic value and a theological message to communicate. In Israel, the cloak was considered the only possession of the poor man: “This is his only covering; it is his cloak for his body. What will he sleep in?” (Ex 22:26). Like every beggar, Bartimaeus placed it on his lap and used it to collect alms. The gesture of abandoning it, together with the few coins that some benevolent passerby placed there, indicates the complete, decisive, and radical detachment from his lived condition. The life he had led up to that moment no longer interested him.
His gesture recalls the one that the catechumens of Mark’s communities made on the day of their baptism: they threw away their old clothes, and they rejected what prevented them from running after the Master. It was the sign of the renunciation of the old life, habits, and behaviors incompatible with the choices of those who Christ has enlightened.
The story concludes with the dialogue between Jesus and the blind man (vv. 51-52). The Master asks every person who seeks the light to make his profession of faith to believe in the one who can open his eyes. The encounter with Christ and with his light places one in a condition that is not easy.
Bartimaeus was sitting before; now he must start walking; before he had a ‘profession that, for better or worse, fed him, now he must invent a completely new life; before he had a place to live, he lived among known people and friends, now he must leave for an adventure that is challenging and risky.
Those who approach Christ must not delude themselves that they will have a comfortable and trouble-free life. The experience of Bartimaeus teaches us that the journey that awaits those who have welcomed the light is a very arduous one; it obliges us to review habits, behaviors, friendships, and demands that we manage our lives, our time, and our goods in a radically new way.
Whoever wants to be enlightened by Christ must choose between the old cloak and the light.
Faith warms the heart and enlightens the steps of the disciple
Romeo Ballan, mccj
Jericho: a city in the valley of the river Jordan, 10 km north of the Dead Sea, a city with a mild climate and below sea level, “the city of palms” (Dt. 34,3): it is considered the first walled in city of history (8000 BC), its walls fell down in a spectacular way in front of the people of Israel (Jos 6). It is a city well known to Jesus. In the vicinity of Jericho, he is baptised and spends the 40 days of temptation; he speaks of the road down from Jerusalem to Jericho (the road of the Good Samaritan); here he meets the publican Zacchaeus and, before ascending to Jerusalem, performs the miracle of the blind man Bartimaeus (Gospel) in an important context.
The curing of Bartimaeus, the blind man of Jericho, marks a point of arrival and the point of a new departure in the context of Mark’s Gospel. It is the last healing miracle performed by Jesus, as a conclusion of a series of moral teachings. But it is also the point of departure towards Jerusalem, where he will go through the events of his last week on earth, the Holy Week, from his triumphal entry into the city to his passion and resurrection.
Jesus has given important moral teachings which, if observed, renew people from within, through a change of behaviour (metanoia). The moral requirements set by Jesus (see passages from the Gospel of Mark from the previous Sundays) work towards conversion of the heart, causing as a result a personal interior freedom. More than renunciation, it is more accurate to speak of a gift of liberation-purification of the heart in order to discover and follow Christ, the true treasure. It is a question, then, of freedom from selfishness (to renounce self, to take up the cross: 8,32-38); of freedom from emotions (unity and indissolubility of marriage, love and respect for the children: 10,2-16); of freedom from possessions (the danger of riches: 10,17-31); of freedom from power (authority as service: 10,35-45)…
In each of these areas the disciple lives the perpetual tension between the prevailing worldly mentality and Christ’s demand. Often this tension becomes clash and conflict between the darkness of evil and the light of the Gospel. At this point in time, before Christ’ going up to Jerusalem, Mark sets, in an emblematic way, the healing of the blind man of Jericho (Gospel), which he describes as a miraculous event and, at the same time, rich in symbolism.
A blind man “was sitting by the road begging” (v. 46): he was stationary, a beggar, dependant on other people… As Jesus approached, he becomes a new man: he cries out to Jesus twice about his situation and implores his mercy (47-48). He comes upon the group of the disciples who, in the beginning are a hindrance to him but then encourage him to go to Jesus who was calling him (v. 49). The blind man casts away his cloak – symbol of his security up to then -, springs on his feet, speaks to Jesus, receives from him faith and sight and begins to follow him “in the way” (v. 52). The road going up to Jerusalem is hard, especially for the events that are awaiting Jesus in that Week, but the disciple, now enlightened, knows that the Master is preceding him and is drawing him after himself.
“Bartimaeus is the image of the disciple who finally opens his eyes to the light of the Master and decides to follow him along the way. Jesus’ call does not directly reach the blind man; there is someone in charge of transmitting it. These mediators represent the true followers of Christ, sensitive to the cry of those who seek the light. They are those who dedicate most of their time to listen to the problems of the brothers and sisters in difficulty, who always have words of encouragement, who show to the blinds the way that leads to the Master” (F. Armellini). This is the missionary responsibility of the communities of believers: transformed by the love of God, it is their task to avoid any hindrance and, by their witness and word, to facilitate the journey of those who seek the light and the truth of Jesus.
In this search for the Lord, Baptism is a point of arrival but, at the same time, it’s the foundation of the missionary commitment of every Christian: the blind man, now enlightened, is fascinated by Christ and becomes a witness to all of the joy to follow in his footsteps. The missionary commitment of every baptised person knows no boundaries: it is directed to the situations close at hand but it also reaches the ends of the world.
