PEOPLE HAVE FACES

‘Now they came to Jericho. As He went out of Jericho with HIs disciples, and a great multitude, blind Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, sat by the road begging’ (Mark 10:46).

His birth was difficult and due to the violent paroxysms of childbirth he was born blind. His mother survived but just barely. She remained an invalid for the rest of her life. His father, Timaeus, was not a skilled tradesman so he had to farm and work a second job just to keep food on the table. There was no welfare system in those days. Many had to work from sun up to sundown just to survive. If you didn’t like your job you worked anyway. There were no career counselors or parents’ basements. Bartimaeus, which simply means son of Timaeus, grew up as any blind boy did in those days; without education, without opportunity, without hope. Early on he must learn the art of begging for when he was released from the governance of his parents this would be his only means of support. He loved the childhood game of ‘three sticks.’ The kids would meet in a vacant field and jump between sticks strategically laid on the ground. The goal was to jump through the maze without touching the sticks while at the same time never touching the same open area twice in a row. Bartimaeus tried to play once but landed on every stick as his peers looked on with mocking giggles. He never played again. He couldn’t. Later in boyhood Bartimaeus yearned to help harvest the crops but his father couldn’t let him even though as the oldest son that would have normally been his responsibility. His younger brothers inherited that task, while Bartimaeus sat to the side wondering what a tree looked like. Of course he had hopes and dreams like everyone else., but no one cared. He thought he might be a poet but not one word of encouragement came his way. In his late twenties both of his parents died. His siblings had families of their own and Bartimaeus was left with the only option for survival; begging. As people walked by, Bartimaeus would hear the laughter of wayfarers and the intermittent jangling of copper coins in his little tin cup. Those were the only sounds he ever heard. No one ever asked him his name, or asked him anything about his day. He was tolerated by society, but barely. In effect Bartimaeus had no identity….that is until Jesus came by. Jesus was different than all the rest. He stopped and actually looked at the blind man whose sightless eyes seemed to roll to the back of his tilted head. Jesus spoke to him. He actually asked him his name. Suddenly Bartimaeus had a face. He had never had one before; only a tiny tin cup and a tattered robe. ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ Jesus asked. Bartimaeus couldn’t believe his ears. This popular rabbi had actually asked him a question. Suddenly there arose in the mind of Bartimaeus the thought that he actually had some worth as a person. Bartimaeus was not about to let this surprising opportunity go by. He answered before the offer was retracted, ‘Lord that I may receive my sight,’ he said. And at once that tree he had so longed to see came bursting into full view. So did the gentle face of the rabbi who healed him. Dazzled and confused by the events that had just transpired, Bartimaeus could barely hear the words that followed, ‘Your faith has made you whole.’ Then Jesus smiled, patted Bartimaeus on the head, and walked away. Bartimaeus was healed of blindness, but more than that he was healed from obscurity. At last someone had known Bartimaeus. He had become a person.

As ministers we meet Bartimaeuses all the time. There are so many people in our world who have been shoved aside, overlooked, and been robbed of their identity. They have such a complex web of problems that the world simply dismisses them burdens. Often they are viewed as projects that whole people will tackle for a specified time and then, when not enough improvement is seen, are sent back to the place from which they came. So many like this enter the church as a last resort desperate for someone to care. They come skulking through the back door with their heads drooping hoping against hope that this will be the one place they can find their identity, the family where they can hear someone call their name. Sometimes the church succeeds at this, sometimes she fails. But let us all remember that there was one person who never forgot someone’s name. He stopped what He was doing to minister to prostitutes and political traitors and unsightly lepers and demonized women. He touched them all and called them by name. He called them into His kingdom. He bestowed honor upon them like no one else ever did nor ever will. And on this Thanksgiving Day let us remember that we too had no name in times past. Then one day Jesus came moseying by. He stopped. He looked. He saw our pitiful estate. He called us by name and then called us to His table. We looked up and saw a name tag on the plate. It was ours. We were actually a person. Jesus had done it again.