“Jesus promised His disciples three things – that they would be completely fearless, absurdly happy, and in constant trouble.”Chesterton gave us a wonderful benchmark, didn’t he? If you and I are afraid, if we’re unhappy, and if our lives are all right with the world…well, then, we’re probably not the best of disciples. After all, Jesus tells us not to fear, to be joyful, and to accept not the world but God’s kingdom, “For behold, the kingdom of God is among you” [Lk 17:21]. In truth, fear, unhappiness, and worldliness are all symptoms of self-love. They’re certainly not symptoms of God-love. The true disciple has died to self through faith. As St. Paul teaches:
“…yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me; insofar as I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me” [Gal 2:20].Sadly, not all Christians accept this. Many years ago, on a road trip from Pensacola up to New England, I was driving through the Carolina mountains. The only thing I could pick up on the car radio were country music stations, farm reports, and obituaries. I’d never before heard obituaries broadcast over a local radio station. I guess it’s a Southern thing. Anyway, I found it all fascinating.
After the obits and some local news, the announcer introduced a preacher who began with these words: “Now, let me tell y’all something. You’re all sinners.” And I found myself thinking, well, preacher, you’re certainly right about that. But then he added, “And God wants nothing to do with you until you repent of your evil lives.” With that I shouted at the speaker, “No, preacher, you’re wrong, about as wrong as you can be.”
He reminded me of the disciples and others in the Gospel who were always trying to keep those pesky sinners away from Jesus. But Jesus called them anyway, didn’t He? They hadn’t repented, at least not yet. That would come later. First came the call, then the response.
Yes, indeed, the world, along with some folks who should know better, try to separate you and me from the love of God. Others, echoing the serpent in Eden, belittle God and try to convince us we’re masters of our own fate: “Don’t be a fool,” they tell us, “You can be like God if only you believe in yourself.”
Believe in myself? What exactly does that mean? Are they saying that I’m the measure of all things? That happiness will result when I focus only on my own needs, my own desires? That God is unnecessary, that He’s nothing more than a threat to my self-esteem? Yes, the world speaks to us through a thousand loud voices all hoping to drown out or alter the Word of the living God.
Some of you who’ve known me a while, know that the event described in chapter 10 of Mark’s Gospel is among my favorites. It’s really a beautiful example of what I’m trying to explain…so let’s listen to Mark as he relates what happened at the gate of the city of Jericho. [See Mk 10:46-52]:
They came to Jericho.
And as He was leaving Jericho with His disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging.
On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.”
And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me.”
Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”
So, they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, He is calling you.”
He threw aside his cloak, leapt up, and came to Jesus.
Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?”
The blind man replied to Him, “Master, I want to see.” Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.”
Immediately he received his sight and followed Him on the way.It’s a brief passage, isn’t it? But it reveals so much about the call to discipleship, so let’s dig into it more deeply and see what the Spirit reveals to us.
Now Jericho is an ancient city, believed by many archaeologists to be among the oldest, continuously occupied cities in the world.
Jesus was leaving Jericho, on His way to Jerusalem, on His way to the Cross. Accompanied by His disciples and a great crowd of people, he approached the city’s gate. Unlike the crowd, a man named Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, sat alone, apart, sunken in the misery of his affliction.
In those days, if you were blind and poor, you had no choice. You became a beggar. Unable to earn a living, Bartimaeus spent his days sitting by the road, begging for alms. You can almost hear him, can’t you? “Have pity. Have pity. A coin for a poor blind man.” A small thing to ask, but on this day Bartimaeus mustered up the courage to ask for something far greater.
Humbled by his blindness, Bartimaeus knew how needy he was, how helpless if left to himself. In his humility, he had already fulfilled the first condition for being a disciple: to acknowledge one’s total dependence on God. Notice, too, Bartimaeus didn’t hide from the world. He didn’t shut himself up in his father’s house, sitting in some dark corner feeling sorry for himself. No, he was willing to expose his misery to the world’s stream of life and to God.
I suspect most days were the same, but not this day. Bartimaeus heard the commotion of the crowd and learned that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. He knew of this Jesus, the healer, the one many believe to be the Messiah. And so, from deep within, he summoned courage and cried out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” No longer the quiet, blind beggar, no longer looking for alms, Bartimaeus wanted only what God can give. He wanted divine mercy.
Unlike most of the disciples, Bartimaeus seemed to sense Jesus’ true identity. Open to the movement of the Holy Spirit within him, he called Jesus by the messianic title, “Son of David.” In doing so he made a public act of worship, shouting again and again to compensate for what his eyes cannot see: “Son of David have mercy on me.”
Filled with the Spirit he became bold, begging God: “Pour out Your goodness and mercy upon me, the one in need.” With this, Bartimaeus teaches us three essential demands of discipleship:
First, a recognition of one’s true condition. This is the inner realization, an awareness that we are broken in ways we cannot repair on our own. It’s really our acceptance of the reality of our human condition. It is true humility. Bartimaeus also teaches you and me to pray in humility, seeking only God’s will in our lives, for God always offers mercy.
I first encountered this in another when I visited a state prison in Massachusetts. As I was praying with an inmate, a lifer who had committed murder, he suddenly exclaimed:
“I am the lowest of the low. I am messed up beyond belief, and it’s all my fault. Only God can heal me of all this junk. And isn’t that the most amazing thing, the most wonderful thing? It just makes me want to leap for joy.”
I immediately thought of Bartimaeus, leaping for joy in response to the love of Jesus Christ. That inmate also grasped the next demand of discipleship.
Second, exposing one’s condition to the only One who can heal us. The true disciple hears and accepts God’s call to repentance, a call that brings forgiveness and a new life as a disciple of Jesus Christ.
Third, persistence in the face of all opposition. Overwhelmed by God’s Presence, His goodness and forgiveness, the disciple is given a gift: a single-minded and single-hearted focus that hears only God’s call and refuses to let the world overwhelm it.
The question for us, of course, is whether you and I have the boldness of Bartimaeus, or are we so ashamed of our weaknesses and sinfulness, or so timid, or so proud, that we are unable to turn to God and cry out for His mercy?
Jesus always listens, dear friends. He listens for your voice rising above the world and above your own passions. He listens, hoping you will call out his Holy Name, hoping you will shout (or even whisper) for Him to come into your life.
And He always responds. Jesus stopped at that gateway to Jericho and commanded, “Call him.” Yes, the still unformed disciples tried to keep a blind beggar far away from their teacher, but Jesus ordered them to bring Bartimaeus to Him. The disciples, you see, didn’t think this blind beggar was worth Jesus’ time.
The crowd, too, dismissed this blind beggar. You can almost hear them can’t you: “How dare you, a beggar, speak to the great teacher, the holy man, perhaps the Messiah?” Rebuffed and scolded, does Bartimaeus worry that he might be pushed aside? No, for he is persistent, despite all opposition.
Indeed, only two people at Jericho’s gate believed Bartimaeus was worth Jesus’ time: Bartimaeus and Jesus.
It is here we see the true disciple. He is the one who rids himself of those purely human desires to keep up appearances, of that tendency to keep God’s dearest creatures separated from Him. Indeed, the primary task of those who have been called by Jesus is to call others to Jesus. This is why the Church defines its mission as one of evangelization.
From this brief scene, we find that we are to implore Jesus boldly and unceasingly. We are to encourage others to respond to God’s call and accept His healing and His mercy.
But our visit to Jericho isn’t quite over…
For when he heard Jesus call him, Bartimaeus leaped to his feet, tossed his coat aside, and went straight to Our Lord.
The blind, of course, learn to magnify their other senses, and Bartimaeus no doubt knew from which direction the voice of Jesus came. But it’s still interesting that no disciple led the blind Bartimaeus to Jesus, and yet, even in the midst of that large crowd, he went directly to Our Lord.
I‘ve always thought this was the work of the Holy Spirit, for that is what He does: He leads, He guides, He inspires – and on this day he led a blind, hopeful, and faithful Bartimaeus to the One who had called him.
Yes, Bartimaeus displayed, for all to see, the enthusiasm of the true disciple. He leaped, the Gospel tells us, and we can almost feel his joy! He’d waited so long for this moment – the moment when he would be summoned before His Lord so he could be forgiven and healed.
What else did Bartimaeus do? He tossed aside his coat, his beggar’s rags, the symbol of his lowly state in life, and came to Jesus unencumbered, with nothing but his enthusiasm, his love, his faith. He knew he could leave his old life behind because he knew he would be healed. This is the remarkable faith of Bartimaeus, for he already knew what Jesus was going to do for him.
Bartimaeus received the gift of salvation because he had accepted the gift of faith. He shows us that to be saved one must want to be saved; one must direct his steps toward the only One who can work this miracle of salvation, for miracle it is. We certainly can’t save ourselves.
When Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus simply replied, “Master, I want to see.” He asked only for his sight…and nothing else. He asked for that which only God can give. He asked only to be restored to wholeness.
Bartimaeus realized Jesus was present just for him, just for Bartimaeus. He knew Jesus was the divine healer, the forgiver of sins, the redeemer of the world. The Son of David, the Messiah that called him hasn’t come to liberate Israel from the Romans, or to establish an earthly kingdom, or to fulfill our every whim. And Bartimaeus knew this. Yes, he knew that Jesus came to restore him to wholeness and to restore the whole of humanity to what it once was, to what God had made it in the beginning. It was in Eden before the Fall that man and woman walked and talked with God. And it is in the streets of Jericho that Bartimaeus walked and talked with the Son of God.
Notice then that Jesus didn’t say, “I have saved you.” No, instead, he said, “Your faith has saved you.” God seeks that kernel of faith into which He can extend His love and power.
He wants to change lives, and often enough He calls us again and again, in the most outrageous ways. He never gives up on us, but always hopes to find a heart that recognizes who He is, a heart that calls to Him, so He can intervene and change that life.
Invite Jesus to be Lord of your life. Jesus never imposes Himself on us, never forces us to love Him, for love can exist only in freedom. Love is always a decision.
Too often, instead of loving God unconditionally, we Christians spend much of our time piously trying to manipulate His power to suit our own desires. This little scene in Jericho ends with Jesus telling Bartimaeus, now cured of his blindness, to go away.
“Go your way,” Jesus tells him, perhaps testing him one last time.
But Bartimaeus no longer wishes his life to follow any way other than that of Jesus Christ, and as Mark tells us, he followed Jesus “on the Way”. In other words, he became a disciple, and anticipated what Jesus would tell the apostles just a few days later, on that holy night, the night before He died:
“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” [Jn 14:6]Oh, that we could all be disciples like Bartimaeus. Let’s make that our prayer: that we can recognize our own blindness, all the apparent dead ends in our lives, and expose them to the light of God’s mercy in Jesus Christ.
We’re surrounded by a lot of noise, aren’t we? The world tries to drown out God’s voice, and God’s call. So many people never take the time to listen for God’s call, or even believe He’s calling them.
How many, like the blind Bartimaeus, want to find God, but are led astray by voices telling them God cares nothing for them, or that He’s not even there to hear their prayer? How many sit alone along life’s roadside, hoping God might one day pass by?
Recall again how Jesus called Bartimaeus. He did it through His disciples, didn’t He? “Call him,” he commanded. How many have you and I ignored as we move through our own troubled lives, too involved in ourselves to pay attention to those God loves? How many wait for another to take them by the hand, to lead them into the presence of the living God where they will find healing, purpose, and life?
Discipleship always involves a second call, a call to the one who has already responded, a call to lead others to the Lord. Bartimaeus heard that second call and responded. He “followed Him on the way,” and did so fearlessly, happily, and no doubt expecting lots of trouble.
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