by Mihail Stefanov
As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Mark 10: 46-48
Part 1: In the Lowest Place
Bartimaeus was a blind man sitting by the road. There was no health insurance or educational institution for blind people in Jericho at that time. The blind had no access to aid and no job training since they were assumed to be unfit for work. Their place was on the street, and the only thing they could do for a living was beg.
That’s the likely situation for anyone whose prospects for a better way of life are denied. In Bartimaeus’ time, most people believed that blindness was a punishment from God. As a result, Bartimaeus was stigmatized. No one expected anything good from him.
The story of Bartimaeus reveals a lot about people who have been stigmatized for a lifetime. In my country of Bulgaria, many Roma have their place in the society—on the bottom, like Bartimaeus. Many of the Roma have had no access to education. They work the “dirty jobs” (if they have jobs at all), and they are not paid well. Though they depend on social-service funds, they are in and out of the social and health systems. How can anything change for them?
Mark 10: 42-52 gives insight to those of us who feel called to address the needs of any who are stigmatized by society.
Part 2: Be Quiet
As Bartimaeus shouted out to Jesus, some of the people in the surrounding crowd ordered him to be quiet. They criticized him. The more he shouted, the more confused the crowd became about how to react. Bartimaeus had an unchangeable place in the society. Most people in that crowd thought he should be content with his preordained destiny.
Likewise, in many parts of the world today, nothing good is expected to come from the Roma community. Even if we bear these people no ill will and have nothing against any one of them personally, we often don’t really expect anything to change in their lives. We accept the stereotype of them that we’ve been given—not listening to them because we think we know better. We often behave with arrogance, assuming that “We know what you need; you have to follow our rules if you want to have a better life.”
The Bulgarian government intends to build new houses for Roma residents. Yet no one asked the Roma if they wanted to live in those houses. Though it may seem absurd to us, the Roma are happy in their current homes. We think that giving them access to education will solve their problems. But we want to start educating them before they even realize what they need education for.
Before we judge the Roma, it is important for us to see things from their perspective. It takes a long time and a lot of work to get through university—especially if you are the first in your family to do so. As we were renovating our church building, a Roma worker on the construction crew said to me: “I stayed in school only until the fourth grade, and then I left. A friend of mine went to the university to become an engineer. But after he graduated, he couldn’t find an engineering job. No one would hire him because he was Roma. So he came to work with us as a low-skilled laborer. You tell me, what’s the difference? Why should I go to school when we both ended up as low-skilled laborers?”
The truth is that the attitudes of the larger society toward the Roma are not being addressed. We have not really embraced their differences or appreciated their rich tradition. We project our own desires onto them, decide for them, and then tell them what they have to do. To enjoy better lives in our society, they have to be more like us. Yet even when they follow our example, go to school, and receive a higher education, they still may not be able to progress in life. So they remain trapped in poverty.
Part 3: Define Your Problem
When Jesus encountered Bartimaeus, his reaction was different from the crowd’s. He did not assume that he knew what Bartimaeus wanted. So Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” We might think the answer would be obvious. Bartimaeus was blind; he needed to be healed so that he could see.
Still, Jesus asked because Bartimaeus had to define his own problem. He had to tell Jesus what he needed. Jesus didn’t say: “Since you are blind, what you need is to be able to see. I’ll perform that miracle for you.” Instead, Jesus asked: “What do you want me to do for you?”
With this story, Jesus teaches us that it is very important to engage the Roma in conversation—to ask them what they need before developing a ministry among them. It is not our place to tell them what they need and how to get where we think they want to go. Like Jesus, we first need to ask: “What do you think you need?” From their perspective, the problem might not be what we expect, or it might be the same. But I believe that we will be able to move and change things only after people define for themselves what is good and not good in their lives—understanding what needs to change in order for them to overcome the challenges they face. For hundreds of years now, Europeans have been defining the issues and determining what is wrong with the Roma. Is it not God’s choice to decide how the Holy Spirit interacts with us? God wants to heal and change us—but not without our free will. We must be part of the whole process of transformation.
Part 4: The Will to Change
Bartimaeus’ answer to Jesus is: “Let me see again.” He wants something to change in his life. He not only defines his problem, he wants to solve it. He has the will to change what has limited his life. We can’t change anyone else’s life situation unless that person is willing to change. We can’t do anything with or for the Roma if they don’t opt in.
I know a man in my home town in Bulgaria who is a beggar. He has a disease that inhibits his movement. He has begged on the street for years. He already has enough money for surgery that would enable him to walk again. But he doesn’t seek the surgery, because begging as a handicapped person is what he does for a living. He fears that he will no longer be able to provide for himself if he can walk.
Our ministry won’t make an impact on the lives of the Roma without their having the will to change. What we first need to do is to be with them, spend time with them, live with them, and learn from them. Only then can we try to understand their needs and their dreams. In this side-by-side accompaniment, we can discover with them ways to change and enrich their social and spiritual lives. Our role becomes one of support as the Roma find opportunities and alternatives to their poverty. Loving them and sharing the gospel with them is our role. What is not our role is telling them what they have to do.
When God touches us, our eyes are opened—and both the people who serve and the people being served finally see one another in the eyes of God.
The Rev. Mihail Stefanov serves as a pastor in The United Methodist Church in Bulgaria.
Illustration by Christopher G. Coleman
"Owning the Solution" by Mihail Stefanov was originally published in the May/June 2013 issue of New World Outlook, the mission magazine of The United Methodist Church.