430. Thirtieth Sunday of Ordinary Time (B)

Meditations no. 618 (unofficial computer-aided translation)

Turning to Jesus, like Bartimaeus, when we experience our weakness.

The Gospel of today’s Mass narrates the encounter of the Lord with blind Bartimaeus. As He was leaving Jericho with His disciples and a large crowd of people, a blind man, Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside begging for alms. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

How many times, following our Father’s counsel, have we come to the mercy of our Redeemer with the words of this blind man, because we experienced our smallness and weakness in the face of the difficulties of life. Do you not feel like crying out like Bartimaeus, the blind man, Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me?

“What a beautiful ejaculation, for you to repeat many times: Lord, have mercy on me!”

“He will hear you and attend to you.

Bartimaeus would have heard the news of the miracles that Jesus had performed and, hearing that he was passing nearby, he tried to get his attention to put himself in his hands. At that time there were no remedies for his blindness, and Bartimaeus entrusted himself to the compassion of Jesus Christ. Contemplating this scene, our Father said: Do you not want to cry out to you, who are also standing by the side of the road, of that road of life, which is so short; to you, who lack lights; to you, who need more graces to decide to seek holiness? Do you not feel the urgency to cry out: Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me? (Mk 10:47).

The situation of weakness and need of our soul is no different in many respects from Bartimaeus’ prostration due to blindness. The awareness of this reality - each one of us is unfortunate and miserable and poor and blind and naked - must not become a burden of the soul or a cause of shock or fear; rather, it must lead us to react with humility, to seek God’s forgiveness and help. Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me, we will repeat in our hearts, with the assurance of being heard. “I have nothing but miseries,” our Father once said; “if I have anything acceptable, it is from God. And this is not false humility. With my human intelligence, in the presence of God, I see only this: miseries; and I see it as clearly as that two and two make four. But there is God’s grace: omnia possum in eo qui me confortat! (Phil 4:13), and I strive to make them divine. Every person who struggles leads the way to holiness. My children, take advantage of these lights of God because, as you have heard me say many times, the Lord does not want our miseries, but counts on them for our humility and for our sanctification.

Bartimaeus’ prayer touches the heart of Christ, who stops, sends for him and heals him. Our acts of contrition also stop Jesus passing by. In the midst of the day’s cares, the Lord hears our prayer, just as Bartimaeus’s heard in the midst of the murmur of the people around him. That man wanted to be healed, and the Lord wanted to heal him. With contrition we open our souls to Jesus, full of desires to obtain the divine grace that we need so much. In his infinitely merciful Heart we always find acceptance.

We must insist on the petition to the Lord, without being discouraged.

WHEN Bartimaeus began to call Jesus, many rebuked him to be silent. But he paid no attention to them and cried out much more: “Son of David, have mercy on me!” He insists on his request and succeeds in his purpose - to arrest Jesus - in spite of the difficulties, the environment that surrounds him, and his own blindness, which prevents him from knowing exactly where the Master is. In Bartimaeus we find a great example of living and operative faith. Do we conduct ourselves in this way when we lack light? We must believe with firm faith in the one who saves us, in this divine Physician who has been sent precisely to heal us. To believe with all the more strength the greater or more desperate the illness we suffer from (…).

This is the way of the Christian. It is necessary to invoke tirelessly, with a strong and humble faith: Lord, do not trust me. I do trust in you. And when we sense in our souls the love, compassion, tenderness with which Christ Jesus looks at us, because he does not abandon us, we will understand in all their depth the words of the Apostle: virtus in infirmitate perficitur (2 Cor 12:9); with faith in the Lord, in spite of our miseries - or rather, with our miseries - we will be faithful to our Father God; divine power will shine, sustaining us in the midst of our weakness.

Like Bartimaeus, we turn to the Lord for his help, and we do so with the confidence of one who knows he is loved by him. When you have fallen, or find yourself burdened by the burden of your miseries, repeat with sure hope: Lord, see that I am sick; Lord, you, who for love have died on the Cross for me, come and heal me.

Our prayer must be hopeful and persistent like that of the blind man who seeks his healing. The Lord, who heard him from the beginning, our Father comments, allowed him to persevere in his prayer. The same as you. Jesus perceives the first invocation of our soul, but he waits. He wants us to be convinced that we need him; he wants us to beg him, to be stubborn, like that blind man who stood by the road leading out of Jericho. Let us imitate him. Even if God does not immediately grant us what we ask of him, even if many try to turn us away from prayer, let us not cease to implore him (St. John Chrysostom, In Matthaeum hom., 66, 1).

Jesus himself, who allows Bartimaeus to insist on his request, has taught us to be tenacious in prayer, as our Father remarks: “Pernoctans in oratione Dei”-he spent the night in prayer. “This is what St. Luke tells us about the Lord.

You, how many times have you persevered like this?” “Well, then …”

His first followers learned the teaching of Jesus well, from whom the Acts of the Apostles narrate that they all persevered with one accord in prayer. God our Lord is always attentive to us, attentive to our needs, because of the infinite Love He has for us; but He wants us to be stubborn in our requests, which is a sign of love and trust in Him. Do not be dismayed: no matter how unworthy a person may be, no matter how imperfect the prayer may be, if he rises up humble and persevering, God always listens to him.

To reach Christ, sacrifice is necessary: leaving our comfort aside.

Continuing with the Gospel account, our Father commented: Jesus stopped and sent for him. And some of the best who surround him turn to the blind man: “Come, good cheer, who calls you” (Mk 10:49). It is the Christian vocation! But God’s call is not one. Consider also that the Lord seeks us at every moment: get up, get out of your pockets, out of your comfort, out of your petty selfishness, out of your little unimportant problems. Detach yourself from the earth, for you are there flat, flat, formless. Acquire height, weight and volume and supernatural vision.

That man, throwing off his cloak, immediately stood up and came to him (Mk 10:50). Throwing away his cloak! I don’t know if you have been in the war. Many years ago, I was able to set foot on the battlefield once, after a few hours after the fight was over; and there were, abandoned on the ground, blankets, canteens and bags full of family memories: letters, photographs of loved ones. … And they were not of the defeated; they were of the victorious! That, all that they had in abundance, to run faster and jump the enemy’s parapet. Like Bartimaeus, to run after Christ.

Do not forget that, in order to reach Christ, sacrifice is necessary; throw away everything that gets in the way: blanket, bag, canteen. You must also proceed in this contest for the glory of God, in this struggle of love and peace, with which we try to extend the reign of Christ. To serve the Church, the Roman Pontiff and souls, you must be ready to renounce everything that is left over; to be left without that blanket, which is a shelter on raw nights; without those beloved memories of the family; without the refreshment of water. A lesson in faith, a lesson in love. Because we must love Christ in this way.

And immediately a divine dialogue begins, a dialogue of wonder, that moves, that ignites, because you and I are now Bartimaeus. Christ opens the divine mouth and asks: quid tibi vis faciam? And the blind man: Teacher, let him see (Mk 10:51). What a logical thing! And you, see? Has not the same thing happened to you, on some occasion, as to that blind man from Jericho? I cannot help remembering that (…), when I saw that Jesus expected something from me - something that I did not know what it was! - I made my ejaculations. Lord, what do you want? I sensed that he was looking for me for something new and the Rabboni, ut videam - Master, let him see - moved me to beseech Christ, in a continuous prayer: Lord, that what you want may be fulfilled.

Pray with me to the Lord: twelve me facere voluntatem tuam, quia Deus meus es tu (Ps 142:10), teach me to do your Will, for you are my God. In a word, let there spring from our lips the sincere desire to respond, with effective desire, to the invitations of our Creator, seeking to follow his plans with unshakeable faith, with the conviction that he cannot fail (…).

But let us return to the scene that unfolds on the way out of Jericho. Now it is to you, to whom Christ speaks. He says to you: what do you want from Me? Let him see, Lord, let him see! And Jesus: go, for your faith has saved you. And immediately he saw and was following him on the road (Mk 10:52). Follow him on the road. You have known what the Lord proposed to you, and you have decided to accompany him on the journey. You try to tread in his footsteps, to put on the garment of Christ, to be Christ himself: for your faith, faith in that light that the Lord is giving you, must be operative and sacrificed. Do not have any illusions, do not think of discovering new ways. The faith that he demands of us is like this: we must walk at his pace with works full of generosity, tearing out and releasing what is in the way.

We end our meditation, turning our eyes to our Mother in Heaven. She teaches us to ask in faith, with the assurance of being heard.