The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.
In this Sunday’s Gospel, we meet Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, sitting on the roadside as Jesus passes by. I wonder if Bartimaeus ever prayed with this week’s psalm, which carries the refrain, “The Lord has done good things for us, we are filled with joy.” Did he ever pray these words as he sat alone in the darkness, without even the comfort of seeing the moon or the sun gleaming behind the hills?
The Psalmist writes, “Those that sow in tears shall reap rejoicing.”
I wonder if Bartimaeus, praying these words of the Psalmist, ever thought, “Why did God free our fathers only for me to be left here blind? How much longer? How many more tears must I sow until I reap rejoicing?”
Bartimaeus must have gone through many long nights, loneliness and fear, and, perhaps, a flood of tears. Did his blindness and his circumstances make him bitter and angry? Or did each passing day just deepen his longing to see?
Then, the moment comes. He hears that Jesus is coming along the road and Bartimaeus cries out, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” Voices around him cry out, judging him and shaming him for calling out to God. Yet Bartimaeus cries out even more, knowing that the God of miracles has come and He could work a miracle here and now. Bartimaeus’s cry does not flow from a heart hardened by sorrow and resentment. His is a heart that yearns deeply for something only God can give. Boldly, Bartimaeus springs up and comes to Jesus, saying, “Master, I want to see.”
When we find ourselves stumbling through darkness in our lives, it can be easy to stop crying out to God, thinking that His silence is a sign of abandonment or rejection. Bartimaeus gives an example of what to do in those moments. He cries out to Jesus, giving voice to the hope he’s always held in the depths of his heart.
As St. Augustine says, “the Christian life is an exercise in holy desire.” Bartimaeus shows us that the way to true sight and freedom from darkness is to keep desiring, to keep hoping, and to keep crying out to God.
Conrad Espino is a seminarian for the Archdiocese of Chicago. Please pray for him!