Like Bartimaeus, we are all blind. We may not be afflicted with the blindness of the eyes, but we all certainly suffer from some blindness of the mind and of the heart. We do not know everything about ourselves and about the world. The Johari window shows us that we all have “blind spots” in our consciousness.
Ironically, we live in a time when every kind of Information is readily available with google or AI. Yet today we are more ignorant and more estranged from the truth than the generations before us. With fake news, conspiracy theories, scams, misinformation, and deception freely pouring on the internet, we are less confident and more insecure about any knowledge. We feel the need to subject every information to fact-checking.
Philosophers and sociologists attribute this unsettling shift to the post-modern phenomenon of de-construction. In fact, they now talk of a post-truth era where objective truth is no longer recognized, and everyone can claim and speak of his “own truth.” Pope Benedict XVI sadly refers to this moral disintegration as the “tyranny of relativism.”
Like Bartimaeus, we are all blind beggars. We feel lost and helpless in a world enveloped in darkness and held hostage by lies and deception. And so, we turn to Jesus who is the Light (Jn 8:12) and the Truth (Jn 14:6).
The story of Bartimaeus is a vivid illustration of the meaning of faith and discipleship. Bartimaeus is a blind beggar who sits daily at the gate of Jericho. There is no better place to ply his trade than at the city gate where everyone meets and shares the news of the day. It must have been at the gate where Bartimaeus heard stories of Jesus, the wonderworker from Nazareth.
Thus, when news breaks out that Jesus is passing through Jericho, he eagerly looks forward to his chance of a lifetime. Jesus finally arrives, and he shouts to the top of his voice, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” People try to silence him and spare the Master of unnecessary nuisance. But no one can stop Bartimaeus as he shouts all the louder. When Jesus finally notices him and calls for him, nothing either can hold him from going to Jesus. He throws aside his cloak, springs up and heads for Jesus.
The cloak is everything to a beggar. It covers him, it shelters him from the weather, it is his bed; in a sense, it is his home. He throws this aside for nothing can get in his way to Jesus.
When Jesus calls, he asks that we leave everything behind. Nothing surpasses the importance and urgency of God’s call. St. John of the Cross speaks of total self-emptying (nada, nada, nada) prior to complete possession of the “all bestowing God.”
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks. “Master, I want to see.” Although Jesus already knows what Bartimaeus will ask, the Lord wants him to verbalize his request. In prayer, God wants us to be specific in naming our need for only then will we know ourselves and trust in him. In Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) the first step of an addict’s long journey to recovery and healing is to acknowledge his absolute helplessness and his absolute need for help.
Whatever we personally ask of God in prayer reveals who we are and what we value. We heard Jesus addressing the same question to James and John in last Sunday’s gospel, “What do you want me to do for you?” Their answer was, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” The self-centered ambition of the two brothers is in stark contrast to Bartimaeus’ humble awareness of his blindness and utter helplessness. His answer reveals his deep faith which Jesus himself acknowledges. “Go your way; your faith has saved you.”
The truth is that Bartimaeus has already seen Jesus with the eyes of faith even before Jesus cures him of physical blindness. In fact, his cry at the gate, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me,” betrays such faith. His cry is the first confession ever made of Jesus as the Messiah other than that of the apostles.
The gospel ends saying that as soon as he receives his sight Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way to Jerusalem. Unless we see Jesus, we cannot follow him. Unless we know Jesus, we cannot be his disciple.*