THE STORY OF BARTIMAEUS [As told (possibly) by another follower of Jesus]
The man I walk beside today is my friend. That is not so extraordinary in and of itself except for when I think about how he became my friend. I guess I would have to admit that ours is an unlikely friendship. If truth be told I probably would never even have known his name much less be his friend if it had been up to me. You see, Bartimaeus was blind. Well, he used to be, that is. And I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t have a lot to do with blind people.
Blind people, especially those who turned to begging like Bart were a common sight for me for as long as I can remember, especially as I traveled along the roads of Galilee. The clanking of coins in a cup, and the plaintive pleas for alms were like background noise that I came to expect but never really listened to – if you know what I mean. Blind beggars were not just relegated to being part of the landscape; they were considered by most to have no real significance. I had been taught early on that there was always a moral reason for a man’s infirmities and his sin or the sins of his father were the usual culprits. Consequently, I pretty much believed that blind men like Bart deserved the state they were in. So, I saw them, I’m sorry to say, as an object to be pitied but not much else. And I wasn’t alone.
Accompanying those beliefs were common expectations that blind beggars were supposed to act in certain ways. There was a sort of decorum or unspoken set of rules that society had placed on those who were left to live off the goodwill of others. And it was while breaking those rules that Bartimaeus came bursting onto the scene. I always joke with Bart that he was one bold, audacious beggar. And it was that boldness that caught all of our attention one day as we were leaving Jericho.
Beggars don't yell. Don't ask me why they just don't. Hold out a cup - yes; plea for mercy - fine; be humble and contrite - perfect. But to let loose and holler so loud the whole crowd turned to look at him alongside the road, well, that was unacceptable. Someone forgot to tell Bart, however, so like a spectator at a camel race he let everyone know what he wanted when he shouted, "Jesus, have mercy on me!"
Caught up in the moment, maybe. A little overzealous, most definitely. But when he ignored calls to keep quiet by those, he should have listened to he crossed a line that produced a frown and a murmur from almost everyone on the road. The exception, of course, was Jesus. Moved more out of curiosity than anything else, I'm thinking, the Master wanted to see the ‘yelling beggar’ so before long I was on my way over to tell Bartimaeus this was his lucky day.
I asked Bartimaeus many months later why he flung his coat off when he jumped to his feet to go see Jesus. I thought, maybe, he somehow knew what was going to happen, and the coat that reminded him, and everyone else who saw him, just who he was as a beggar needed to be left behind. Bart said he hadn’t given it a thought at the time but did agree that he felt a whole new life was about to open before him and for some reason, his beggar's coat was not going to be a part of it.
Well, that certainly fits with what happened next. I remember that I had to hustle to keep up with Bart as this man who couldn’t see a lick stumbled through the crowd in search of the Master. If ever there was a man on a mission it was him. The fact that he had no idea where he was going made the drama (even the humor) of the moment that much more poignant. But find Jesus, he did, and the attention of all was on this audacious beggar who wouldn’t listen to anyone except for the one he had called out to see.
Knowing how this story ends makes me forget sometimes that the surprises kept coming from Bartimaeus that day. Having arrived at Jesus’ feet he was immediately confronted with a question from the Master - ‘What do you want me to do for you?’. A simple question? Yes. And with the view of hindsight, it was even simpler. But when I reflect on that moment, I realize that, at the time, I was still marveling over this bold beggar. This was not even a man - he was a sinner blinded by his sins. He wasn’t part of the followers of Jesus, he was fulfilling a role expected by society at the side of the road with a cup in his hand. He was at the mercy of travelers who would reach for a few coins and help extend his existence yet another day. So, while I was annoyed at his persistent calling out; surprised when he didn’t heed instructions to keep quiet; amazed when Jesus called for him; and shocked when he leaped to his feet and threw off his coat - I still expected him to be a beggar in answering the question of his life. ‘A few coins would be sufficient; a little help would be much appreciated.’ ‘Then I will go back to my place alongside the road.’ This is what I thought. Instead, with a voice filled with resolve he proclaimed without hesitation to the one he knew could make a difference, ‘My Rabbi, I want to see!’ I want pictures of the sounds that I hear every day to be on display before me. I want a form to the voices. I want the freedom to move off the road, to see the things I can now only hear and smell and touch. I want to walk away from that which binds me from the moment I wake up in the morning till the time I drop off to a fitful sleep at night. And with a knowing smile and a nod of his head, Jesus said, ‘Go Bartimaeus, for your faith has healed you’.
Bart was set free that day, never to look back and I, well, I learned another lesson about faith. I wasn’t blind but I realized I was living my life within the boundaries set by others and enforced by my small thinking. Faith, on the other hand, is realizing that the shape of my life is meant to be drawn and then re-drawn by God. My friend Bartimaeus is the living, walking, and seeing proof of that for me each day.
Add comment
Comments