Thursday of the eighth week of Ordinary Time, Year II — a férie, without proper memorial, when the day's two readings are allowed their full weight. Mark closes the second half of his Gospel — the long ascent to Jerusalem — with one last healing, the most carefully composed of all his miracles: Bartimaeus on the road out of Jericho.
"And they went to Jericho. And as he was setting out from Jericho with his disciples and a very numerous multitude, Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, a blind man, sat begging beside the way. And when he had heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and to say, 'Jesus, Son of David, take pity on me.' And many admonished him to be quiet. But he cried out all the more, 'Son of David, take pity on me.' And Jesus, standing still, instructed him to be called. And they called the blind man, saying to him: 'Be at peace. Arise. He is calling you.' And casting aside his garment, he leapt up and went to him. And in response, Jesus said to him, 'What do you want, that I should do for you?' And the blind man said to him, 'Master, that I may see.' Then Jesus said to him, 'Go, your faith has made you whole.' And immediately he saw, and he followed him on the way." (Mk 10:46b-52)
Mark composes the scene with extraordinary economy. Notice the verbs he gives to Bartimaeus, each one a deliberate act: he cried out, he cried out all the more, he cast aside his garment, he leapt up, he went, he saw, he followed. Six verbs, in that order, are the entire shape of a vocation. The crowd's contribution — "admonished him to be quiet" — is the obstacle that the call must pass through.
The cloak matters. For a beggar at the gate of Jericho, the cloak is everything he owns. It is his shelter for the night, his pocket for the day's coins, his protection from sun and from cold. The Law itself forbids taking a poor man's cloak as a pledge past sundown (Ex 22:25-26). When Bartimaeus throws it off, he is not making a symbolic gesture; he is letting go of his entire material existence, in one motion, because someone has called him. Mark places this gesture deliberately, only six chapters after the rich young man "went away grieving, having been greatly saddened by the word. For he had many possessions" (Mk 10:22). The blind beggar succeeds where the rich man failed.
And the last detail: "Immediately he saw, and he followed him on the way." The verb is ēkolouthei — he followed. The road Bartimaeus joins, six chapters before the cross, is the road to Jerusalem. He is the last disciple Mark names by his own name. The Gospel of Mark ends, in a certain sense, with a man who has thrown off his cloak and is walking toward the Passion he asked to see.
The first reading writes the same call in another grammar. Peter tells the dispersed Christians of Asia Minor that they are "living stones" being built into a spiritual house (1 Pet 2:5), "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation" (1 Pet 2:9). The image is luminous, but it depends on a prior choice — the choice of letting oneself be cut and placed, of becoming part of a building one did not design. Living stones are not loose: they are set against one another, held in a wall they did not draw.
In the spirit of Bethlehem, Bartimaeus is the patron of every small response to a call. He is at the side of the road, where everyone usually is when grace passes. He has nothing but his cry; he is told to be quiet, and he refuses. When the call finally comes, he does not negotiate. He throws what he has, runs, asks for sight, receives it, and walks with the One who called him toward the city where everything will be given. He is the disciple the Society of Bethlehem hopes to recognise — the one for whom the cloak is light because the Voice is clear.
Scripture text: Catholic Public Domain Version (CPDV), public domain.
Prayer of the Day
Lord Jesus, Son of David, you stopped on the road for one blind man who would not stop calling you. Give us the courage of Bartimaeus when the crowd tells us to be quiet, and the freedom of his cast-off cloak when you call us. Teach us to ask for the one thing that matters — that we may see — and then to follow you on the way, all the way to Jerusalem. Amen.
For Meditation
- What cloak are we still wearing that the call to follow would have us throw off?
- When the crowd tells us to be quiet, do we cry out all the more, or do we settle into silence?
- "What do you want, that I should do for you?" — what would we honestly answer today?
