The Blind Beggar of Jericho — Inside the Classic

Voice as the Only Agency

The blind beggar possesses no sight, no mobility, and no social standing. His sole resource is his voice. Mortimer emphasizes this by contrasting his physical helplessness with his vocal determination: "But he could speak." The crowd tries to silence him—"a great many people came up to him and told him not to make such a noise"—but he escalates, crying "more than ever." The author frames this persistence as the key to his deliverance. Notably, the beggar does not ask for sight initially; he simply cries "Have mercy on me, O Lord." Only when Jesus directly asks, "What do you wish me to do for you?" does the man specify his desire. This structure suggests that the primary act of faith is the cry for mercy itself, not the specific request.

The Crowd as Obstacle and Instrument

Mortimer portrays the crowd in two opposing roles. First, they are a physical threat: the beggar "might have been pushed down and trodden upon and crushed to death" if he tried to move. They also act as social enforcers, telling him to be quiet. Yet once Jesus calls for the man, the crowd instantly transforms: "No one now was rude to the poor beggar, for Jesus had called for him." The same people who silenced him now make room. This reversal underscores the authority of Jesus's word—it reorders social dynamics instantly. The crowd's behavior mirrors the reader's potential response: initially dismissive of the persistent petitioner, then awed by divine attention. Mortimer uses this shift to model how human judgment yields to divine compassion.

Direct Address and the Child Reader

Mortimer repeatedly breaks the narrative frame to speak directly to the child reader. After describing the beggar's healing, she writes: "The child who reads this book is not blind. If you were blind how could you read to father or to mother?" This move transforms the story from historical account into a personal lesson. The author then poses Jesus's question to the reader: "If he were to say, 'What do you wish me to do for you?' what would you answer?" She supplies a model response: "Forgive me my sins, and give me thy Holy Spirit." This catechetical approach aligns with the book's stated purpose as juvenile religious instruction. The reader is not merely to observe the beggar's faith but to replicate it in prayer, substituting spiritual blindness for physical.

Mortimer's narrative economy—just over 4,000 words—makes every element purposeful. The beggar's persistence, the crowd's hostility, and Jesus's delayed response form a pattern that invites the reader to see prayer as a vocal, insistent act. The author's direct questions and suggested answers turn the story into a template for personal devotion. Readers familiar with the Gospel account will notice Mortimer's additions: the emphasis on the beggar's fear of being crushed, the crowd's rudeness, and the explicit application to the child's own spiritual state. These choices reveal a writer deeply concerned with making biblical narrative immediately applicable to a young audience.

Sometimes I think about that beggar’s stubborn hope, and how easily the crowd’s noise drowned it out. Hosanna — Story, Setting & Ideas carries a quieter echo of that same longing, the kind that waits patiently at the roadside of a story. It feels less like reading and more like sitting with an old friend, remembering why we first believed. Hosanna — Story, Setting & Ideas has a way of lingering well after the page turns.