A reflection for the Thursday of the 8th Week of Ordinary Time. Mark 1046–52. “Bartimaeus (that is, the son of Timaeus), a blind beggar, was sitting at the side of the road… And immediately his sight returned, and he followed him along the road.”
Bartimaeus and his companions who did not have their faculties of vision sat along the side of the road, presumably in hopes of receiving alms. People in their day would have had extreme difficulty providing for their material needs. How could they work if they cannot see?
We have since learned that people with blindness are not somehow fated to a less than fulfilling existence. I am not blind, but I have significant vision impairment. Nevertheless, I can do what sighted people can if I’m provided access. For me, that involves corrective lenses. This is the social construction of disability.
Assistive devices and technological advancements can help provide access to people living with what we perceive as disabilities. When people have the suitable tools, their disability minimizes or even disappears.
But equipment and tech are not the primary factors. Access is primarily a matter of the will, heart, and spirit. Do we, individually and as a society, have the capacity to recognize the humanity and innate worth of all persons? Do we take the time to listen so we can understand what people’s needs and concerns are? Do we care enough to make changes so no one must sit along the side of the road?
Of course, not all people can do all things, and we’ve come a long way in 2,000 years. We also must not presume upon people. A compassionate civilization provides adequate support and resources for disabled people, and not make them live like pauper a pauper in the mode of Bartimaeus.
Even with positive societal changes, people with congenital, chronic, and acquired physical, mental, and emotional conditions must still often wrestle for access. It happens far too often in church. This is the ecclesiological construction of disability.
When it comes to our ecclesiological construction of disability, we might ask ourselves: Are our local parishes a welcoming home for people with disabilities? Do disabled people have to beg for access? What kind of language do we use related to disability? Does anyone in a leadership position have a disability? Does leadership encourage input from all members of the community? Are the physical premises accessible? Is the Church as the body of Christ accessible?
Prominent Christian leaders experience disabilities, and their degree of access allows them to participate as they need. Consider Pope Francis. He has dealt with knee problems that impede his standing and walking, so he utilizes a wheelchair to enhance his mobility. However, you shouldn’t have to be a pope to have equal ability to participate in the life of the church. I have neurological conditions in my legs and feet, so I often use a wheelchair. Neither the pontiff nor I are confined to our wheelchair. Instead, our assistive devices give us mobility.
The New Testament also informs us that Jesus lived in a world where people held harmful beliefs related to disability. “His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2).
This is the theological construction of disability. For Bartimaeus, the disability of his blindness was compounded because his society believed that people with vision impairments were somehow less than fully human, unable to contribute to the community, and not worth making changes for. The root of the issue was not with Bartimaeus; it was in the beliefs and imagination of his contemporaries. Nevertheless, their beliefs inflicted harm on Bartimaeus and his companions.
When Jesus asked Bartimaeus what he wanted him to do, Bartimaeus requested, “Master, let me see again.” Why did he want to see again? It’s likely because being visioned was the only way he had of not sitting along the roadside begging for alms. If the wider society had believed that people with blindness deserved support and access, perhaps Bartimaeus’ answer would have been different.
Jesus answered Bartimaeus’ request. “Immediately his sight returned, and he followed him along the road” Christ provided Bartimaeus assess. With that access, Bartimaeus was able to accompany him on the journey.
Today’s Gospel leaves us with much to reflect on related to the theological construction of disability. A few questions might include: What does the Church as an institution and the local parish reorder itself to make it accessible to those who are being excluded? How can the Church advocate for a more just society? What language are we using that equates disabilities with metaphors for deficient spiritual conditions?
What are the social and theological constructions of disability that we must undo so that all members of the community can thrive? And how can we construct our society, church, and faith so that all people may fully participate? In prayerful discernment in dialogue with one another we, like Bartimaeus, will arise and “follow him along the road.”
Further Reading: Of Such is the Kingdom: A Practical Theology of Disability by Summer Kinnard. Touch the Wounds: On Suffering, Trust, and Transformation by Tomáš Halík.
