The Sights and Sounds of Bartimaeus
Proper 25/23rd after Pentecost, year B; Mark 10:46-52
This is the second healing of a blind man told in Mark’s Gospel, but the first one we read in the lectionary cycle. The omitted earlier story (8:22-26) involved a man at Bethsaida, in Galilee; Jesus spits on that blind man’s eyes, but the (unnamed) man memorably reports that people just look like “trees walking.” A second attempt on Jesus’ part brings about the desired result; then Jesus characteristically steers the man away from sharing the news, by ordering him not even to enter town.
The faintly embarrassing implication that Jesus has to work at this to restore the man’s sight may explain the absence of the story from Matthew’s and Luke’s revised versions of the Gospel (and perhaps from the lectionary?). Yet that story must be read along with this second healing of a blind man, and vice versa. The first story is actually one bookend of the whole “road” narrative we have been following; it immediately precedes that dramatic scene where Jesus asks about his identity (and Peter “confesses” it), and then predicts the passion for the first time, which begins the journey to Jerusalem. This second story (a version of which does appear in each of Matthew and Luke) is the other bookend, closely following the third of the passion predictions, and the very last event on the road before Jesus enters the great city—and the last healing miracle of the whole Gospel.
This is perhaps the longest instance of the way Mark can use (to mix our interpretive metaphors) “sandwiches”—two related stories or two parts of a story wrapped around another—to convey the Gospel of Jesus. While the Bartimaeus story has its independent value, we do well to attend to its place in the whole narrative. This last part of the road story has some significance for what came in before, and vice versa.
Jesus and his companions are now passing through Jericho, with Jerusalem now very close. The Judean setting is one obvious contrast with the earlier story, set in Galilee. Mark gives an unusual amount of attention to Bartimaeus’ name and its “meaning,” or at least derivation. Mark rarely mentions names in these stories (cf. 5:22 for another exception) and that includes the earlier blind man. There is much speculation by commentators about the meaning of this name Bartimaeus and how its derivation is spelt out here, but it is worth remembering that when Mark mentions an Aramaic term he often provides a Greek translation too (cf. 5:41, 7:34), and this is what happens here. The simplest explanation may be that the story was transmitted with the name of Bartimaeus already attached, and/or that Bartimaeus may have been a figure who was remembered in Christian communities, given he is presented as a disciple (a point to which we will return). Yet it is also important just as a contrast with the earlier story where the man has no name.
This is a noisy story. When he learns who has arrived, Bartimaeus begins to “shout out.” In particular he shouts “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” This leads to the crowd “sternly ordering” him to be quiet, which might by now be familiar language. This is the same terminology (versions of the Greek ἐπιτίμω) which Mark’s Jesus has used repeatedly to “rebuke” demons, storms, and earlier beneficiaries of healing, as well as Peter (after Peter tries it on Jesus).
The desired effect in those other cases was a silence designed to prevent Jesus’ name, reputation, or identity being shared. Bartimaeus is now shouting this previously secret information out, and it is others, not Jesus, who seek his silence in this case. If this story had been placed a few chapters earlier, we could have expected Jesus himself to be the source of the rebuke.
Now, however, something is different. Bartimaeus shouts more loudly (v.48), and continues to share what had been a secret not long before. Both the fact of the cries and their content contrast with the cryptic treatment of Jesus’ identity in the earlier part of the Gospel, and the silence needed to maintain it. Different also is the specific identity proposition: the idea that Jesus is “son of David” has not appeared in so many words before in Mark. In chapter 2 Jesus had invoked the example of David and used him as a sort of foil, to imply that he had a comparable or greater authority, but that is as close as we have been. The meaning seems clear though, and not so far from what has been implicit: that Jesus is the Davidic Messiah who has come to redeem Israel from bondage.
There is a parallel between Bartimaeus’ cries and Peter’s accurate but incomprehending confession of Jesus as “the Christ” in chapter 8, the beginning of the road story—also the location of that set of rebukes between Peter and Jesus. Here at the end of the road, Bartimaeus uses a different messianic term, but seems to understand what he is saying, which could make him (not Peter) the first person to make something like a really adequate—if perhaps not complete— confession of Jesus’ identity in this Gospel.
Jesus’ reaction to the cries, to “stand still,” seems to contrast with the noise of the scene. He says “call him,” which just as in English has an implication of vocality and not just of summoning; in fact “call” occurs three times in the one sentence (v. 49), heightening the continuing emphasis on speech or noise. The conversation between Jesus and Bartimaeus then ensues, and Jesus’ declaration “your faith has made you well” could as well be translated “your faith has saved you” (v.52). This is the same phrase used when the bold woman with the flow of blood touches Jesus’ cloak (5:34). The idea of being “saved” (not just “made well”) relates to Jesus’ Messianic or Davidic identity; he has come to save his people.
Adela Collins points out that that the idea of a Davidic messiah as a healer is not expected.1 We should remember though the Markan picture of Jesus as conqueror of evil forces, and how healings in Mark always seem to be contests with his demonic opponents. Bartimaeus’ acclamation of Jesus as “son of David” is in keeping with this picture, his own healing a preliminary skirmish in the fight soon to escalate in Jerusalem.
Collins also points out that blind persons in antiquity were often bearers of prophetic insight. Bartimaeus’ ability to discern Jesus’ identity remains somewhat mysterious but fits this ancient cultural trope, and is clearly part of the “faith” for which Jesus commends him. While he then receives his sight, this blind beggar had already seen what Jesus’ disciples have been struggling to understand. Bartimaeus’ insight, this first recognition of Jesus by someone who then follows Jesus on the road, thus stands as a lived example of what was to be learned on the journey. The contrast in the two healing-of-the-blind stories, at the beginning and end of the road narrative, suggests that only now that Jesus can be seen clearly.
While Jesus then says “go”—a version of which appears in many miracle stories in Mark—what Bartimaeus does next is not quite to “go,” but to accompany Jesus, to “come,” as it were. This is not a contradiction, but simply amounts to what the healed man does with his new life. Earlier, the Gerasene demoniac (5:18) had also begged to accompany Jesus, but it was not the time. Now, by “casting aside his cloak,” and following Jesus on the way, the beggar Bartimaeus also provides a contrast with the rich man Jesus had recently encountered. So Bartimaeus will be among those with Jesus when he enters Jerusalem and is acclaimed there by many more as the son of David, just as Bartimaeus had seen him to be.
Mark: A Commentary. Hermeneia. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2007, p.510