Written by Jennifer Azubuike
Soon after Jesus arrived in Jericho, he and his disciples prepared to leave the town. However, word had spread that Jesus, the healer, was in town; as usual, a large crowd quickly gathered and followed him. As he traveled along the road out of town, the crowd grew in size. A blind beggar named Bartimaeus (meaning the son of Timaeus) was sitting beside the road.
When Bartimaeus heard that Jesus of Nazareth was nearby, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
“Be quiet!” A male voice barked at him.
The voice came from a man standing right beside him, startling Bartimaeus. Fear gripped him, and he would have obeyed the command to stay quiet, but the event from the previous day flashed through his mind.
* * *
The street was gradually growing quieter, and Bartimaeus, sitting beside the road in his usual spot, knew it was time to go home. He reached for his bowl and pulled it in, and as he reached inside to feel its contents, he heard someone gasp.
“Who’s there?” Bartimaeus called. He held the bowl close to his chest, fearing that someone was about to rob him.
“It’s me,” replied the young voice.
“Jere?” Bartimaeus instantly recognized the voice. “What are you still doing here? I thought your mother had closed her shop for the day?”
“Yes, but she asked me to wait and collect money from a customer who will be going home this way. Mother couldn’t wait any longer.” Jere replied as he leaned on the beam supporting the shop roof.
“Okay, well, I will be heading home now,” Bartimaeus said as he looked for his guide stick. Jere got up and picked up the stick Bartimaeus had accidentally pushed away when he was moving around earlier.
“Here’s your cane.” Jere handed it to him before teasing. “You must be building a house with all that money you make.”
“I wish.” Bartimaeus smiled. “It looks like a lot, but the change usually doesn’t add up to more than 35 shekels. The pedestrians on this road are generous but not with high denominations.”
“Uhm…I think your collection today will be much more than that. Should I count them for you?”
Bartimaeus hesitated.
“Don’t worry, I will count out loud and put each bill in your hand as I count.” Jere persuaded him and, as promised, they counted together, totaling 235 shekels.
Bartimaeus was surprised and confused, wondering how he made that much money in a single day. It was a day like any other, and he heard the same number of people drop something into his bowl. Still confused, he thanked the boy and left for his house, swinging his stick back and forth in front of him as he went. Soon, his concern turned to joy. He was going to make sure his father heard about his success that day, and he would surely rub it in the face of his brother, who never thinks highly of him.
“Mama!” Bartimaeus called as soon as he entered their front yard. “Mama! Are you there?”
“Keep your voice down! Mama is not here.” Abner, his brother, cautioned him.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I am excited.”
“Excited about what?” He snarled.
Bartimaeus carefully sat on the front porch pavement and put down his cane and bowl. “I made a lot of money today.”
Abner’s ears perked up; he dropped the tool he was sharpening and stood up. “Really? Let me see.”
Bartimaeus unwrapped his money bag from around his waist and opened it. As soon as he did, Abner dug into it, but Bartimaeus snapped it closed and pulled it away from him. He may be blind, but physically strong.
“Wait!” Abner cried. “I was only trying to help you count it.”
“No need. It has been counted.”
“Well, let me double-check.” He snatched the bag from his blind brother and ran a few feet away. Bartimaeus raised an alarm, and their mother came running from the backyard.
“What is it?” The woman queried, fearing the worst.
“Mother! Tell Abner to give me back my purse.”
“Abner!” She turned furiously to her younger son. “Give your brother back his purse, now!”
“Alright, Alright. I was only helping him count his money.”
“Did he permit you to count it?”
The boy put the purse into his brother’s outstretched hand and hissed maliciously. “You only got 35 shekels for the entire day, and you come home boasting like you made much more.”
“I did. I made 235!”
“You wished!” He hissed again and returned to filing his work tool.
“Mother, I did.” Abner insisted and urged his mother to count it.
“Son, there are only 35 shekels in your purse.”
“That cannot be. Jere counted it for me, and it was 235.” Bartimaeus replied, nearly tearing up. He stretched out his hand for the purse, and his mother placed it back in his hand.
“Looks like your little friend doesn’t know how to count,” Abner mocked from where he was seated. “Besides, you have always earned a similar amount daily.”
“Maybe that’s because I always let you count my money.” Bartimaeus snapped back.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That’s enough, you two!” Their mother intervened before it escalated. “Bartimaeus, go shower. Dinner is almost ready. Abner, where is your father?”
“He said he was going to make a stop at our cousin’s on our way from the farm. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Finish up and come inside.”
“Yes, mother.”
An hour and a half later, the family was seated on stone stools around the family table for dinner. Their father shared the news about their older cousin’s wedding and what the family was required to contribute towards the celebration.
“Why are we contributing that much to his wedding?” Abner asked.
“It’s the tradition. He will also be contributing to yours when it is time.” His father replied.
“Can I arrange a basket of fruits?” His wife asked.
“No. We will stick with the tubers they requested. Thank God we had a good harvest last year. We will give from what we have saved in the barn.”
“But that will reduce what we have to survive on until the next harvest.” Abner was worried.
“We will manage. The next harvest is not far off.” His mother consoled him.
As the conversation progressed, Bartimaeus quietly mourned his loss. He had always sought a chance to show his father that he cared about their family and yearned to contribute meaningfully to it; the hope of realizing that dream flashed and dashed before his eyes in the same instant. It was starting to click why his brother would only lend him a hand with counting his earnings and nothing else, and why he always ended up with the same amount at the end of each day. He sighed and rubbed his temple. How much had he lost all these years?
His father noticed that he had been quiet and his dinner had barely been touched. “Bartimaeus, why are you not eating?”
“I made a lot of money today that I wanted to show you, and give you some of it.”
“So?”
His mother sighed. “He thought he made 235 shekels, but it was only 35.”
“Mother, it wasn’t.” Bartimaeus still felt sad.
“But I counted it,” his mother replied, perplexed.
“It became 35 shekels after Abner touched it.”
Abner slammed his fist on the table and rose. “Are you calling me a thief?”
“That is in fact what you are!” Bartimaeus yelled back.
“Well, if you’re not so blind, you won’t be so dumb to count, beggar!”
“Beggar? I’d rather earn an honest living than be you.” His brother shot back.
Those words seemed to cut into Abner; he turned to his father. “Papa!”
“That’s enough!” their father said as he got up. “Bartmaeus, don’t speak to your brother like that; he works harder than you ever will. Abner,” He turned to his younger son. “Don’t count his money anymore if he doesn’t appreciate it.”
“But Papa…” Bartimaeus protested.
“Stop it!” He yelled and then muttered under his breath. “I could use extra hands on the farm if you were not so blind as a bat!”
“It is not his fault that he is blind.” His wife heard him and won’t let the ugly remark slide.
“Whose fault is it?!” Her husband snapped back, but she didn’t say another word. Fully aware that he was acting unfairly, she understood his frustration. “Now, everybody, stop!” He continued. “I had a long day and do not want any of this tonight. Abner, I will set some tubers aside in the morning before I leave the house and send for them later in the day. Wait for the messengers I will be sending, and show them to the barn, then come along with them to the wedding. Your mother and I would already be at the venue.”
“What about Bartimaeus?” His wife asked.
Papa frowned, “What about him?”
“Isn’t he going with us?”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I have plans with my friends tomorrow,” Bartimaeus said to ease the tension growing between his parents. Even if no one said it outright, he already knew he wasn’t invited. He had learned early in life that his blindness was something his family could handle at home but was ashamed of outside their house. It didn’t matter that he had worked hard to prove his independence. What mattered more was what others thought about them having a disabled son.
Bartimaeus got up and, using his cane, carried his half-eaten dinner to the kitchen. Outside their home, he faced either pity or hostility—neither of which he wanted but couldn’t control. At home, he wished his father knew how much he craved validation, some reassurance that he was loved and wanted. He had thought about running away, but his lack of sight was a major obstacle, so he wished his blindness away and cursed the day he was born. He prayed every day that he would wake up one morning and find the darkness around him replaced by light, but nothing ever changed.
* * *
As Bartmeaus recalled the unfairness, neglect, and oppression he experienced daily, a heat rose to his face, and a resolve instantly enveloped his mind. He knew he had to take his chance at meeting Jesus that day. If Jesus was indeed the powerful healer he had heard about, then he must ask for his sight to be restored.
Instantly, he began to shout again, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
“Be quiet!” many of the people yelled at him.
But he only shouted louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
When Jesus heard him, he stopped and said, “Tell him to come here.”
The people who had tried to shut him up called him. “Cheer up,” they said. “Come on, he’s calling you!”
Without hesitation, Bartimaeus removed his outer garment and threw it aside, and approached Jesus with the help of bystanders.
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked.
“My Rabbi, ” he said, “I want to see!”
And Jesus said to him, “Go, for your faith has healed you.”
Instantly, Bartimaeus could see, and he followed Jesus down the road.’
Bible Reference: Mark 10:47-49,51-52
Until next time stay lifted!
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