Homily

The Gospel according to Mark, which accompanied us through the Sundays of this year, leads us to encounter the Lord today at his final stop before entering Jerusalem. Along the journey we saw a new climate—a festive one—that Jesus created among the people of the villages and cities where he passed. They came running to him in droves; everyone came, especially the weak, the poor, the lepers and the sick. They all wanted to get close to him, to touch him, to speak with him; they wanted the peace and happiness for their life that he could offer. And Jesus welcomed them all, establishing a different kind of climate among all peoples, a climate of trust; even the most marginalized and despised were able to draw near to him and invoke healing and salvation in his name. In fact, by his very way of being, he exhorted them to address themselves to him with faith. A request made with faith was the only thing he requested. And the reason for this is profound: a prayer made with faith always opens the heart to a different way of living. But, we only really understand this when we are poor or when we recognize ourselves as such.
Bartimaeus, who begged at the gate of Jericho, had understood this. Just like all the other blind people, he too is dressed in weakness. At that time, there was nothing else for the blind to do but beg, adding to their blindness a total dependence on others. In the Gospels, the blind are the image of poverty and weakness. Bartimaeus, like Lazarus and many other poor people both near and far from us, are lying at the gates of life waiting for some kind of comfort. And yet, this blind man becomes an example for each one of us, an example of a believer who asks and who prays. All around him there is darkness; he does not see any of the people who pass by him; he does not recognize anyone who stands near him, nor does he recognize the faces and gestures of people. But that day was different. He hears the sound of the crowd drawing nearer to him. And in the darkness of his life and of his vision, he senses a presence: he had “heard that it was Jesus,” the evangelist notes. He had the sensation that this young prophet was not like all the other men who had passed him by up until this moment. And how many must have passed by during all of these years of his begging! How many had he extended his hand to, and how many did he ask help from, how many had he heard pass close by and then draw away! This is the experience for those who do not see, but it is also the experience of those who beg, of those who encounter someone for just a moment and then once again the distance between who is rich and who is poor, between who can see and who is blind.
Bartimaeus is a man who is forced to ask for help because he does not have any other resources. He is a beggar and he cannot do anything else but beg. Hearing that Jesus is passing by he begins to cry out: “Son of David, have mercy on me!” His invocation is very poor. He does not speak well, like that rich man who observed the commandments since childhood and who had called Jesus “good.” Here, the invocation is simple, but also dramatic. This blind man has only his cry; it is his only way to overcome the darkness and distance that he is not able to measure. His cry, however, did not please the crowd, so much so that many “sternly” tried to silence him, as the evangelist notes. His cry was inconvenient, not polite, and in any event exaggerate, as often happens to the poor; he risked even disturbing the happy encounter between Jesus and the crowd of the city. The crowd’s logic, though apparently reasonable, was entirely pitiless; not only did they yell at him, but they also tried to silence him. This blind man had nothing to do with the life of that city. He was permitted to beg, but without disturbing the peace of the city’s rhythm and pace. And for that crowd made up of people who believed themselves to be healthy and who thought that they did not have to do anything for anyone, it was easy to strike fear and terror in a poor beggar who depended entirely upon them.
Jesus’ presence, however, allowed Bartimaeus to overcame every fear. Bartimaeus feels that his life could change completely in this one encounter. And with a voice even stronger than before, he cries out: “Son of David, have mercy on me!” It is the prayer of the weak, of the poor who, day and night, without end because their needs remain unmet, turn to the Lord; his is the cry of the weak who received the news and of Jesus’ passing by and who put their hope in him. Jesus is not deaf to the cry of the weak. Hearing his cry for help, Jesus stopped. He is like the Good Samaritan who did not pass to the other side of the road as the priest and Levite had done, and as the crowd would have liked Jesus to do. On the contrary, Jesus stopped and responded to Bartimaeus’ cry. His answer begins with a call: “49Jesus stood still and said, ‘Call him here.’ And they called the blind man, saying to him, ‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” It is the Lord who always calls, employing the help of others, of their words. They draw near to us and encourage us to meet Jesus; they even carry us to him. But then the encounter with the Lord is always personal; it is a direct, familiar conversation, like between a son or daughter who speaks trustingly with a father.
As soon as he hears that Jesus wants to see him, Bartimaeus throws his cloak off and runs toward him. He throws aside the cloak that covered him for so many years. Perhaps it was the only protection he had from the freezing cold of the winters and from the hardened hearts of the crowd. He no longer needed to cover up his poverty or to shelter himself from the cold because the Lord called him. He jumped up to his feet and ran to Jesus. He ran even though he did not see; in truth, “he saw” much more profoundly than the crowd. He heard Jesus’ voice and ran toward that voice. It was only a voice, but it was the only voice that ever called and welcomed him. It was different from the murmuring and harsh words of the crowd that wanted to silence him. That voice, that word, was for him a new point of reference, so solid that it allowed him to run to him without seeing and without support. Bartimaeus followed that voice and encountered the Lord. This also happens to whoever listens to the Word of God and puts it into practice. Listening to the Word of God does not lead us toward an abyss or to a fantasy; listening leads us to a personal encounter with the Lord. This is what happened to Bartimaeus. It is Jesus who first speaks as if to continue the call he had made to Bartimaeus. He truly is different from all the others Bartimaeus had met before this moment.
Jesus does not toss a few coins into his hand, though he would have needed them, and then send him on his way. No, he stops, he speaks with him, he shows his interest in him and in his condition and then asks him: “What do you want me to do for you?” Without delay and without wasting words, just as he had done when he first called out to Jesus with a simple prayer, Bartimaeus says to him: “My teacher,* let me see again!” Bartimaeus recognized the light without seeing it. For this reason he regained his sight immediately. “Go; your faith has made you well,” Jesus says to him.