Summary: Saint Mark is the only gospel writer who gives us a name for an unfortunate beggar who had the good fortune of meeting a well-known miracle worker whose fame was growing. Although the beggar was blind, he could quite clearly see an opportunity when it showed up. And when Jesus came near, he saw that he'd better seize the moment; he was not likely to get another one.
If you read this heart-warming story about a blind man in only the gospels according to Matthew and Luke, you'd never know the unfortunate fellow's name.1 But Mark, whose gospel is the shortest of the four gospels, has a gift for clarity and details, as well as brevity.
The beggar whom Jesus is about to meet is Bartimaeus, a man suffering with others as a pariah of virtually the lowest cultural caste of the day - only blind leprous beggars would be lower in the cruel social taxonomy of the times. This is why the fact that the beggar is given a name at all is fascinating. Men of far greater stations in life were often left nameless by the four gospelers. Think, for example, of the nameless Pharisee praying within earshot of the publican,2 the anonymous Pharisees who tested Jesus with regard to paying taxes,3 the fervent but avaricious young ruler who wanted to follow Jesus but who could not give up his wealth4 or the conniving lawyer who "asked Jesus a question to test him."5
But Mark provides a name.6 He wants us to know this man and to somehow empathize with his suffering and his dreams, so that when his salvation arrives, we might better rejoice with him. So, Mark gets to it. Quickly, we realize several interesting talking points about Bartimaeus' life and his encounter with the man he called, "Jesus, Son of David." What we find in this narrative are profound truths about faith, restoration and how an encounter with Jesus Christ can change one's life.
The guy is no fool. He certainly is not wasting time deceiving himself. So, the first thing that is quickly apparent to the reader is that Bartimaeus knows he is blind. (Have you noticed how people who suffer from hearing loss often refuse to believe it?) He knows he's blind. He's fooling no one, and certainly not himself.
This is an important point, because Jesus reminds us that too often sighted people cannot see the truth when it's staring them in the face, whereas sightless people are often blessed with insights - they are clearly not the blind ones in the room. After healing a man blind from birth and hearing him say, "Lord, I believe," Jesus made this enigmatic statement: "I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see may see and those who do see may become blind."7
We don't know how Bartimaeus came to be sightless. This is a detail Mark does not provide, unlike John in his account of Jesus and the aforementioned blind man of John 9.8 But we can surmise from Bartimaeus' outburst that he had once been able to see. He knew what sight was all about. He knew what he didn't have.
And he wanted it back!
So, when Bartimaeus gets wind of some news about Jesus-the-miracle-worker passing by, he sees something the rest of the crowd does not see. Bartimaeus' vision could not have been clearer, and that of the crowd could not have been more cloudy. The blind beggar saw this moment as his big opportunity!
In many ways, his physical blindness mirrors our own spiritual blindness. How often do we find ourselves blinded by pride, self-sufficiency or the distractions of this world, unable to perceive the depth of our need for Christ? Is it possible that we have fallen into a spiritual stupor that has blinded us to new opportunities, new avenues of growth, new worlds to conquer? Or, does Thoreau have it right when he says that it is "never too late to give up our prejudices"?9 Is it possible we have blind spots that we need to address? In recognizing our spiritual blindness, we open ourselves to the possibility of encountering Jesus in a transformative way.
In any case, Bartimaeus didn't kid himself. He knew he was blind, and now, as Jesus approaches, the second thing that is startling about this story is the man's apparent desperation. It's not the "quiet desperation" of Thoreau's Walden.10 It's rather something raw and primal.
John's blind man did not confront Jesus at all.11 But Bartimaeus, hearing that Jesus is passing by, cries out, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" His desperate cry pierces through the noise of the crowd, expressing a profound yearning for mercy and restoration.
But is he truly desperate?
Well, yes, of course. But it is the desperation of hope! His is a cry of opportunity and hope. He had been blind for more years than he could remember. Blindness was his normal. Now, however, suddenly, he sees an opening - a unique possibility - for a new normal. No wonder he is eager to capitalize on a once-in-a-lifetime chance encounter with the one person who, if he showed mercy, could change his life forever. In a dazzling flash of inspiration, he realizes that - after decades of being Mr. Irrelevant, having no future except a life with no meaning of purpose - for the first time in his miserable life, he has skin in this game! So, he is reaching for the brass ring.
After being invited to meet Jesus, the wonder-worker, he throws off his cloak, perhaps symbolizing his rejection of material things, and flies to Jesus. He must have been so excited. He'd won the lottery. He was happier than a thousand hallelujahs. He was going to get his sight back!
Perhaps, it is time for us to also call out to Jesus with a desperate cry for mercy. It's okay to admit that we need help. Nothing wrong in going to Jesus in prayer and saying, "Jesus, ... have mercy on me!" Bartimaeus reminds us that our openness and humility in approaching Christ paves the way for transformative encounters. It is in acknowledging our need that we position ourselves to receive the grace and restoration he offers.
Despite the attempts of the crowd to silence him, Bartimaeus persisted in his cries for mercy, refusing to be deterred, recognizing the life-transforming potential of this unexpected and serendipitous chance encounter. When the two meet, Jesus asks, "What do you want me to do for you?"
Do you think Bartimaeus was confused? No, he knew exactly what he wanted from Jesus, but often, we have no clue. After all, think about it. If Jesus were to materialize in physical form before your very eyes this instant and ask you the same question, how would you respond?
Perhaps, your best response might be the same as the blind beggar's: "Let me see again." Like the Greeks who approached the disciple Philip saying, "We wish to see Jesus,"12 we, too, need to see Jesus. Hitherto, we've just been unaware that this is what we've needed: to really see Jesus, to be touched by Jesus, to be met by Jesus on the dusty road of our life and to be forever changed. But now we know: We need to see Jesus. Why? Because, like Bartimaeus, we want to see again.
Bartimaeus had no doubts about what he wanted and do you think he hesitated to ask for it? In a nanosecond he spit it out. "Let me see again." No dithering. No apologies. No wondering whether Jesus was up to the task.
In response to Bartimaeus' plea, Jesus declares, "Go; your faith has made you well." Mirabile dictu (strange to say; marvelous to relate)! Bartimaeus receives his sight and "followed Jesus on the way." His physical sight is restored, but more importantly, his spiritual sight is awakened. And this was due, according to Jesus, to what his heart - without the use of his eyes - could see. This is called faith.
What happened?
Faith is like a lens, and although Bartimaeus' physical lens was in some way defective, his spiritual lens was as clear as a spring day. The lens of faith is critical for our spiritual health. We need faith for salvation13; in order to receive anything from the Lord, we must ask in faith14; and we know that without faith we can't please God.15
In fact, whatever is good and necessary for Christian living comes from God through faith.
Bartimaeus was in possession of that special lens - the lens described in Hebrews 11: "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."16
This faith-lens of desperate hope and conviction of the reality of unseen things empowered Bartimaeus to cast off his robes - anything that hindered him - and rush toward Jesus. Likewise, this same faith-lens helps us to see clearly and to grab the opportunities that come to us from God through Jesus Christ.
So, Jesus commends Bartimaeus for his faith, emphasizing the connection between faith and restoration and illustrating that true faith has the power to restore our spiritual sight, allowing us to see Christ for who he truly is - the Son of God and the source of mercy and salvation.
To sum up, perhaps Bartimaeus models for us the way we might deepen our relationship with God. This unfortunate beggar, blind for so many years, challenges us to examine our own hearts. Are we willing to recognize our spiritual blindness, approach Jesus with a desperate cry for mercy, persist in faith despite obstacles and trust in his power to restore our sight?
May the example of Bartimaeus inspire us to cultivate a faith that sees beyond the visible and perceives the transformative power of encountering Jesus. May our cry for mercy echo in our hearts and lead us to a deeper, more intimate relationship with the One who is the true source of restoration.