//DESPERATE CRIES

DESPERATE CRIES

A couple of weeks ago at Sunday Mass, we heard from the Gospel the story of the “Rich Young Man” – the story of the guy who had it all, but lost out on everything.  Today we hear the story of Bartimeus – the guy who had nothing and experiences one of the most dramatic turn of events, all in an instant.  And the determining factor for both of these men was their encounter with Jesus.

Thanks so much for stopping by to read this homily for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – October 27, 2024.  I appreciate your sharing this on your social media posts and your feedback and comments…  I’m also grateful for all those who’ve asked for the audio version and share them as well at SOUNDCLOUD click HERE or from ITUNES as a podcast HERE.  May the Lord be glorified in your reading and sharing- Father Jim

It’s can be easy in our minds to assign victims and victors – winners and losers.  To imagine that the message we’re being directed is to be like one and not like the other.  The one is a “riches to rags” scenario where the young man went to Jesus because he recognizes that something is missing in his life.  He’s restless.  He’s not at peace.  He’s trying and in many ways is doing a lot of good things – faithfully following most of the Commandments.  He’s thoughtful and reflective and discerning – something within him causes to recognize the importance of Jesus that causes him to search him out and go to Him.  In fact, God had been reaching out and enlightening him to make him courageously go to Jesus.  And in that beautiful exchange, St. Mark told us, Jesus looked at him, loved him – and told him the key to his happiness was within his reach.  He just had to let go of the thing he was clinging to the most – his wealth, his possessions… to let go of them and to follow Jesus and he would experience the fulfillment he was longing for.  And he couldn’t do it.  St. Mark tells us after this encounter with Jesus, he went away, sad because he had many possessions.

Today we hear about Bartimeus who was sad.  Understandably so.  He had no possessions.  He had no support in his life.  He had been isolated and abandoned by the side of the road – left like trash.  Through no fault of his own, he was blind.  While this terrible debilitation wasn’t his fault doubts had to have plagued him asking “what have I done to cause this condition” fueled by whispers of onlookers, gossips, “his family must’ve done something that resulted in him being cursed him like that.” Maybe it was coupled by anger and resentment by those very family members who saw Bartimeus as an embarrassment, a burden and treating him as a scapegoat.  All of that changes in a seeming instant as he encounters Jesus by the side of the road and Bartimeus is miraculously cured.

Riches to Rags – Rags to Riches – the two stories seem polar opposite and it seems obvious who we’re supposed to emulate.  We might even think we’re more like Bartimeus, because we’re here – while the Rich Young Man walked away.  Just imagining how much walking away from Jesus sad -how this must have “haunted” the Rich Young Man… who would want that?

But the reality is I think for many of us is we find ourselves like both of them at some points and there are things that unite these two figures:  Both of them are struggling.  Both of them are suffering in ways that are a direct result of the world in which we live.    A world that is constantly looking for victors and victims.  Who is ready to determine winners and losers.  That never really connected for me until I became a priest – and met people who were both the “Rich Young Man” and “Bartimeus.”

Years ago a college student came to me who was an active member of our group on campus and this particular sin that he was trapped in became public, causing him incredible embarrassment.  But for the wrong reason.  He was embarrassed that I had found out about it in a public way.  And he came to me and said, not in a confessional setting – I know what I’m doing is wrong, I know what the Church teaches on this is right, I believe that – but I can’t lie to you and say I’m going to stop doing what I’m doing. I Don’t WANT to stop.  It was truly one of the most heart-wrenching non-confessions I’ve ever had, where both of us were crying.  And I remember praying later saying that was the first time I could ever even begin to imagine what it must’ve been like for Jesus to watch the Rich Young Man walk away from him.

A few years earlier, a parishioner who I had known for some time named Tom asked if we could start meeting on a regular basis.  He felt he had no one else to talk to; he had recently been arrested and was out on bail.  This incident led to his suspension from work, and he was on the verge of losing his job.  While all of the details have somewhat faded from my memory, I remember that it resulted from a significant fight with his girlfriend.  They had made a series of poor choices, leading to an escalating cycle of hurt and anger.  Their relationship ended, and Tom was left without a home, facing the prospect of losing his job while grappling with numerous legal and financial challenges.  For about six weeks, Tom came to vent.  Each session began with me greeting him, “Hey Tom, good to see you!  What’s going on?” Then, for the next 55 minutes, I would listen as he poured out his heart, concluding with a brief prayer before scheduling our next meeting.

Then, one day, Tom walked in, looking utterly defeated.  He sighed, “I’m so tired of this; I feel like I’m drowning.” That’s when the Gospel story we just heard came to mind.  We read it together, and he appeared puzzled, asking, “What’s the point?”

The point is that at some stage in our lives, we all find ourselves as Bartimaeus.  The difference between Bartimaeus and the Rich Young Man is that Bartimaeus recognized his need for Jesus, while the Rich Young Man could not let go of what was holding him back. Bartimaeus, despite his blindness and poverty, had a clarity of vision when it came to his heart’s deepest longing. He cried out for mercy, calling on Jesus with a faith that refused to be silenced by the crowd.

His cries pierced the noise of the world around him, revealing a desperation that many of us might feel but hesitate to express. He didn’t wait for the perfect moment; he didn’t care about what others thought. His need drove him to take action, to seek out Jesus with all his might. In contrast, the Rich Young Man, couldn’t imagine a life without these worldly blessings, and that blinded him to the greater treasure standing before him in Jesus.

Both men faced challenges, but only one found transformation. Bartimaeus’ encounter with Jesus changed everything in an instant. He went from being an outcast, left by the roadside, to being called and embraced by the Savior. His faith opened the door to healing, to restoration, and to a new life. When Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus responded simply, “Master I want to see.” And he did.

That exchange between the two of them always used to make me laugh when Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” There’s a part of me that would think “What do you think he wants, Jesus?  He’s blind!  Of course, he wants to see!”

Yet, as I listened to Tom reflecting on his predicament and reflected on my own “Bartimaeus moments,” I realized that the answers to such questions are not always straightforward.  For the two months I met with Tom, his desires were evident: He wanted revenge and to settle scores with those he felt had wronged him.  I pointed out that if he pursued that path, he would remain trapped, blind, and begging on the roadside of his own bitterness.

Which is important to remember.  Bartimaeus, refuses to let the past weigh him down with bitterness over those who have mistreated or ignored him.  He doesn’t seek pity from Jesus in a way that seeks validation for his suffering; instead, he recognizes that Jesus genuinely desires his healing and wholeness.  With unwavering determination, Bartimaeus emphatically calls out, “Master, I want to see.”  Bartimaeus’ yearning for wholeness reveals a profound faith in Jesus’ ability to restore him, not only in a physical sense but also on a spiritual level.  Bartimaeus recognizes that this healing would demand a complete transformation in his life, requiring him to embrace a new way of living from that moment onward.  And indeed, he does embrace this change.  St. Mark recounts that following the miracle, Bartimaeus makes the pivotal choice to follow Jesus, suggesting he likely became one of his devoted disciples.  We can assume that because we know Bartimaeus’ name.  So many others who experienced healing are left nameless (like the woman suffering hemorrhages for 12 years, the young man in Nain that Jesus raised from the dead).   St. Mark’s Gospel is capturing St. Peter preaching so he intentionally points Bartimeus out to the captivated crowd, encouraging them to inquire about the miraculous transformation for themselves.

For my friend Tom, the journey to healing was longer and more complex.  Initially, he needed to realize that what he truly wanted wasn’t revenge but relief from the hatred and anger weighing him down.  The Lord gradually led him to understand the profound freedom that comes from forgiveness—both in giving and receiving it.  It required him to take responsibility for his choices and to seek Jesus’ forgiveness, ultimately enabling him to let go of his anger.

As Tom’s journey continued, he began to see that the path to true freedom lay not in retaliation or resentment but in embracing mercy and healing. It was a slow process, requiring patience and vulnerability. But over time, he learned to articulate his desires more clearly, shifting from a focus on what had been done to him to a recognition of the grace that awaited him in Jesus.

That’s what mirrors Bartimaeus’ journey. When Bartimaeus cried out for mercy, he wasn’t simply asking for physical sight; he was expressing a deeper yearning for spiritual clarity and connection to God. His call for help cut through the noise and distractions of the world around him, much like how Tom’s cry for help needed to pierce through the confusion of his anger and disappointment.

In our lives, we can often find ourselves caught in the tension between the roles of victim and victor, struggling under the weight of our circumstances. Like the Rich Young Man, we may be clinging to something — whether it’s something material, emotional, or spiritual — thinking they provide us security. But the reality is that these very attachments can blind us to the true source of our joy:  Jesus.

The beautiful truth of the Gospel is that transformation is always within reach.

It begins with recognizing our need for Jesus, as both Bartimaeus and Tom eventually did. Bartimaeus, despite his desperate situation, was unashamed in his pursuit of Christ. He didn’t allow the crowd to silence him; instead, he cried out even louder when they tried to shush him. His faith compelled him to seek Jesus, and his persistence was rewarded.

In our own lives, we are called to have that same persistence. That’s why I always take comfort that we don’t know what happened with the Rich Young Man – and that one theory is that it might have actually been St. Mark himself.   The point is even if we’re struggling with letting go of that attachment – don’t give up.  Just because you can’t let go today, let that sadness not keep you away from Jesus, but to keep asking Him to help you to let go, to help give you the strength, to help give you the desire to see – to see Him, to see what He sees… to see His love for you.  Which was my advice to the student who couldn’t let go of the sin he was trapped in.  Which really, really long story, praise God, he eventually did.

For you and I though, we need these reminders to be honest and persevere.  We may not be physically blind, but we can be spiritually or emotionally blinded by our struggles, our fears, or our past. The question for us is: Are we willing to call out to Jesus with the same intensity and determination as Bartimaeus? Are we ready to admit our need for healing, even if it means confronting our own vulnerabilities and letting go of our attachments?

When Jesus asks Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?” he responds simply, “Master, I want to see.” This simple, heartfelt request invites us to reflect on our own desires. What do we truly want from Jesus? Healing? Peace? Direction? Sometimes, articulating our needs can be the first step toward receiving the grace we long for.

Whatever it might be, St. Pope John Paul II once beautifully shared these words that are one of my favorite of quotes of his.  He said  “It is Jesus that you seek when you dream of happiness; He is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; He is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is He who provoked you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is He who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is He who reads in your heart your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle.”

Jesus is the happiness we dream of because, regardless of our circumstances, whether we relate more to the Rich Young Man or to Bartimaeus, He is always looking at us with love.  He is waiting for us to encounter Him.  To lay down our burdens, to seek His mercy, and to open our hearts to His transformative power.