238. Eighth Thursday of Ordinary Time
Meditations no. 109 (unofficial computer-aided translation)
Bartimaeusâ example of faith and prayer.
Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, and as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great multitude, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside.
Under our Fatherâs guidance these words from the Gospel can be a channel for our prayer. Doesnât everything Scripture says sound so reasonable? Isnât it reasonable that there should be a blind man begging for alms by the roadside, with his hand outstretched? Even today, when you get a big crowd, such as on a public holiday or a pilgrimage, you often find a blind man or some poor person holding out his hand.
It was very noisy. Bartimaeus had never heard anything quite like it, even though he was used to the caravans of pilgrims and merchants travelling to Jerusalem. When he heard all the noise, he asked, âWhatâs going on?â And when they told him it was Jesus of Nazareth, his heart burned with such faith in Christ that he shouted: Iesu, fili David, miserere mei! Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!
My child, donât you feel like shouting out too? There you are, stopped at the roadside, at the side of this road of life which is all too short; there you are in need of light; in need of so much more grace if you are truly going to become holy. Donât you feel like shouting: Iesu, fili David, miserere mei? What a wonderful aspiration to repeat over and over again! Lord, Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.
Bartimaeus cried out from the heart: Miserere mei! Have mercy on me! Louder and louder he shouted, as he tried to make himself heard above the noise of the crowd. Yet it seemed as though our Lord wasnât listening. Some of the people near him started to get annoyed. Comminabantur ei multi ut taceret. Many told him to be silent, as they told you to be silent when you sensed Jesus passing by, when you heard the noble, clear sound of those following our Lord in this army of Opus Dei. Your heart started to pound, and you began to cry out; you felt a deep restlessness. And your friends, your customs, your comfort and your surroundings all shouted out: Keep quiet, donât cry out! Why bother calling Jesus? Leave him alone. At ille multo magis clamabat. But poor Bartimaeus did not pay attention, and cried out even louder: Iesu, fili David, miserere mei!
Jesus stopped, and told them to call him. 7 Our Lord, who heard hint from the first moment, let him persevere in his prayer. He does the same with you ⌠Jesus hears the first cry from our heart, hut he waits. He wants us to realize fully how much we need him. He wants us to beseech him and persevere, like the blind man on the road leading out from Jericho.
Praecepit ilium vocari: he told them to call him; and the good people next to Bartimaeus told him: animaequior esto: surge, vocat te. Take heart, rise up, he is calling you. Itâs your vocation!
But God does not call us just once. My child, remember that our Lord calls us many other times. âGet up,â he tells us. Rise up from your wretchedness, your comfort, your petty selfishness, your trifling problems. Detach yourself from the earth, where everything is flat and shapeless. Acquire agility, weight, solidity, supernatural outlook. Give yourself.
Surge, vocat te. Get up, he is calling you.
To follow Christ, we must leave everything.
It was the month of Nisan, and the Pasch was at hand. Winter was coming to a close, and winter sets hard on the plain of Jericho, swept by the winds from the mountains to the north. That blind man, Bartimaeus, would wrap himself up in his cloak to protect himself against the chill. But now, in his haste to get up and go to Jesus, perhaps he became entangled in the cloak and couldnât walk freely.
My child, our Father asks, doesnât this make you think once more of that authoritative call from God which you sensed in your soul and which brought you to the Work? Maybe then your passions tugged at your clothes and said to you, âBut what harm have we done you? Hasnât life been pleasant? Arenât you happy? Havenât we given you so many of the good things of this world?â These suggestions may have returned at times and tried to worm themselves into your soul and obstruct your way toward Christ.
When he heard that our Lord was calling him, the blind man throwing off his mantle ⌠sprang up and came to Jesus. He didnât worry about the value of his cloak, or the effort he had made to obtain it, or the good it had done him during the winter. He knew he was being called, and up he sprang, without hesitation.
Proiecto vestimento suo. He threw off his cloak! My child, I donât know if you have ever been in a war. Many years ago I was able to walk across a battlefield, just a few hours after the fighting. There, strewn all over, were blankets, canteens, and knapsacks full of family souvenirs: letters, photographs of loved ones⌠And they didnât belong to the vanquished but to the victors! Everything that wasnât needed, they got rid of, so that they could run faster and go over the top. Just as Bartimaeus did, so that he could run after Christ.
The reason why the blind man cast aside his cloak was to reach Jesus more quickly. That patched-up garment, useful and valuable though it may have been to him, was of no concern to him now. He was a beggar and didnât mind presenting himself to Christ in all his wretchedness. Nevertheless, that gesture of his showed that he was ready to fight and conquer, because he believed, and because he loved.
My child, donât forget that sacrifice is needed if we are to reach Christ. You have to throw off everything that gets in the way: cloak, knapsack, canteen: everything. Qui, proiecto vestimento suo, exsiliens venit ad eum. (And throwing off his mantle he sprang up and came to Jesus. ) You have done just this in your fight for Godâs glory, in this battle of love and peace that we are waging for the purpose of spreading Christâs kingdom. You are ready to throw away everything superfluous, in order to serve the Church, the Pope, and all souls. You will leave behind that cloak that protected you on cold nights, those dear memories of your parents and family, the refreshing drink from your canteen. What a lesson in faith! What a lesson in love! Thatâs how you have to love Christ.
A living faith, expressed in deeds.
The people around Jesus stepped aside to let the blind man Bartimaeus pass through. The Master had summoned him. And now, my child, a divine conversation begins, a marvellous conversation that stirs us, that enkindles us, for you and I are now Bartimaeus. Christ turns to him and speaks the divine words: Quid tibi vis faciam? What do you want me to do?
The story of Bartimaeus is the story of a man with a living, active faith. Look carefully, St John Chrysostom comments. Our Lord did not even ask him if he had faith, which is what he normally did on such occasions. Bartimaeus, by crying out and forcing his way through the crowd, clearly expressed his faith to everyone around him. In the face of this eloquent example, we sense a silent reproach in our own souls.
How often we have allowed our love of comfort to deter us from following Christ! How often, in our daily lives, we have let our faith burn low!
Ut videam! Lord, may I be able to see! How natural this is! What about you, my child? our Father asks. Can you see? Havenât you sometimes been in the same situation as that blind man from Jericho? I cannot help recalling how, when meditating on this passage many years ago, I sensed that Jesus was asking me for something, although I didnât know what it was. And I would say my aspirations: âLord, what do you want? What are you asking of me?â I felt that he wanted me for something new. And that Rabboni, ut videam (Rabbi, let me receive my sight), led me to tell him: Domine, ut sit. Lord, may what you want be done.
But let us return to the scene as Jesus leaves Jericho. Now it is you that Christ is talking to. âMy child,â he asks you, âwhat do you want me to do?â Quid tibi vis faciam?
Godâs almighty power and goodness are speaking. It doesnât matter if we are poor, blind, and wretched. Jesus is offering us his strong, friendly hand. And in case we are reluctant to take hold of it, he gives us further encouragement by saying: He who follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. All we need to do is to repeat the words: Domine, ut videam! Lord, let me see! Our faith needs to increase each day, and grow stronger, expressing itself in deeds. For this is the victory that overcomes the world, our faith - our firm belief in Jesus Christ, in his infinite love for us, and in his divine power which never fails. Then once again we will hear our Lordâs all-powerful voice saying to us clearly: âGo your way; your faith has made you well.â And immediately he received his sight.
The people accompanying Christ set out on their journey once more. They left behind them that city of palm trees, sheltered behind its high walls. And the man who had been blind sequebatur eum in via; he followed him on his way. Do you see? He followed Jesus on his way. You have seen what Christ is asking of you, and you want to follow him on his way. You want to walk in his footsteps, to clothe yourself in Christâs clothing, to be Christ himself. Your faith -faith in the light which Christ gives you - must express itself in deeds and sacrifice. Donât fool yourself. Donât dream of finding new ways or methods. Jesusâ lesson is clear. This is the faith he asks of us. We have to follow him through obedience and deeds, deeds full of sacrifice, leaving behind anything that gets in our way.
No one had greater faith than our Lady. Beata quae credidisti, Elizabeth exclaimed; blessed are you because you have believed. Mary will win for us the faith we need: a faith shown in deeds and sacrifice, which is so necessary for our work with souls.