John Fairbanks
St. Gregory the Great Writing Group
“Wake up Bartimaeus, it’s time to move.” The spindly figure lying on a straw mat over a dirt floor rolled onto its side.
“You’re hilarious, son,” Timaeus wryly observed. “You know I meant it’s time for you to rise. The sun will be up soon and you need to get to the side of the road before people start passing by.”
Bartimaeus gave a slight groan as he extended an arm and began patting around with his hand in search of his walking stick, which, after his roll over, was now out of reach. Timaeus knelt down, picked up the stick, and put it in Bartimaeus’s outstretched hand.
Leah, Bartimaeus’s mother, entered the room carrying branches. Walking over to the fire pit, she added the wood to the glowing coals and placed the cooking stone with some cakes on it over the fire.
“Come on, honey,” she practically sung in a lilted voice. “Come to the table. The cakes will be ready soon.”
Bartimaeus walked to the table without a misstep. He was born eighteen years ago in this one-room hut. It was the only place in the world where he wasn’t blind. He could feel the presence of the stools and the table and everything else inside even before he touched them. He could smell the tunics his parents wore. The sounds of their voices painted images in his mind of their countenances and where they stood.
Sitting down on his stool, Bartimaeus turned to his mother and said, “I didn’t tell you yesterday, but the man who took pity on me and gave me a whole shekel said he was going into town to hear Jesus, the rabbi from Nazareth. He said I should go with him and that Jesus could heal my eyes. I almost went with him. I have a feeling Jesus is someone great.”
Leah was preparing her reply, but before she could speak, Timaeus interjected. “Put your faith in what you know, son. I’ve said this a million times. Hope leads to disappointment. Count on yourself and protect your spot by the road. That’s all you need.”
“Yes, father, but I’ve heard Jesus is the Messiah. The one who will heal all wounds and gather the tribes of Israel.”
“Nonsense,” Timaeus sniffed. “I must go. It’s been a moon and six days since the last rain. I’ll be carrying water all day to put on Sendor’s wheat field. Leah, my dear, I’ll be exhausted when I get home. If you can trade for just a cup of wine, I’d be very grateful.”
“Anything for you, my love,” she said in her lilted tone.
“And make sure our dreamer gets to the road on time,” Timaeus gently growled, adding a wink in Leah’s direction before passing through the door.
The sun was nearly at its highest point when someone walking strangely approached Bartimaeus on the side of the road. The footfalls went skiff, thuudd, skiff, thuudd.
“Who’s there?” Bartimaeus inquired, mustering authority.
“You didn’t know it was me?” responded Amos. “I’m disappointed.”
Bartimaeus relaxed. “You’re walking funny,” he said. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with my father in Sendor’s field?”
“I was until I tripped walking up the bank from the stream and hurt my leg. I heard Jesus of Nazareth is leaving Jericho today on his way to Jerusalem. He’ll have to pass by here, and I hope he can heal my leg.”
“I’ve heard people talk about him being the Messiah. What do you think?” Bartimaeus asked, hoping for assurance.
“A cousin said he knew someone whom Jesus healed. So I can hope.”
Just then, Bartimaeus heard an approaching crowd, but something was different. He distinctly heard everyone in it. Each foot that went crunch on the dusty road. Each flap of a rustling cloak. He could even distinctly hear voices. “He’s going to outlaw divorce,” said one. “He placed his hands on my child,” said someone else. “He said wealth is not a sign of favor with God,” said another.
Then a fragrance emanating from the crowd came upon him. It was reminiscent of when he was young and followed his mother on errands. They’d walk through an olive orchard near home. After the first spring rain when the trees were full of pollen, the orchard gave off a scent that was like the smell of moist, rich soil, freshly turned over, but there was also a sweetness to it, like the essence released from peeling an orange. He focused all his attention on the scent.
The fragrance filled his nose. Then it filled him. It was in his mind. It was in his mouth. A taste sweeter than honey was on his tongue. Suddenly, he was somewhere else, but not anywhere on earth. Everything was quiet and it was like he was being infused with a sense of complete comfort and calm and there was a gentle hint of that rich, earthy, and sweet fragrance. He could have stayed there forever.
The crowd was passing by when he regained his senses. The same way he could hear the voices before, now he could smell each individual. That rich, earthy, and sweet scent was coming from one man in the center of the crowd. Somehow he knew that man was Jesus of Nazareth. He didn’t know how he knew this total stranger was the man whom people thought might be the Messiah. He just knew.
Bartimaeus cried out, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me!”
“Keep quiet, blind man,” someone snarled.
Undaunted, Bartimaeus cried out all the louder, “Son of David, have pity on me.”
Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”
“Take courage,” said the snarly voice. “He is calling you.”
The crowd parted. Bartimaeus sprang to his feet and followed his nose to the man emanating the wonderful fragrance.
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked.
“Master, I want to see,” Bartimaeus implored.
“Go your way,” Jesus said. “Your faith has saved you.”
Immediately, Bartimaeus was looking into a gentle set of eyes on a face that was even more gentle and assuring. Jesus smiled at Bartimaeus, then turned and went on his way.
Awestruck, Bartimaeus stood still, soaking in what had just occurred and the sights he’d only imagined before. The sun, the clouds, the trees, the people. Oh, the people! He’d heard about black hair and brown hair before—now he could see the difference. He could see the difference between tall and short, lean and stocky. He could see people smiling! Overwhelmed with joy, he slowly turned around in a circle taking in all that surrounded him.
Amos was still by the side of the road when Bartimaeus ran up and grasped him by the shoulders.
“I can see!” he raved. “I must go! Jesus is the Messiah! I must follow him. Tell my parents. Tell them I’ve found the Messiah. Tell them I can see!”
Bartimaeus ran down the road toward Jesus.
Amos stood with his mouth agape for a moment, then began walking back to their village, turning over in his head what had just happened. He walked for a while before realizing his leg didn’t hurt anymore.