I am sitting in church reflecting on how satisfying it feels to be in this place, when suddenly I know I might be in trouble. The reading is from Mark about Bartimaeus, a blind man, and I brace myself for this warm and wholesome mood to be destroyed.

The story of Bartimaeus actually is one of my favorites. Jesus, his disciples and the large crowd following them are interrupted by the insistent voice of Bartimaeus, trying to get attention. What I like about this story is that when others try to silence him, Bartimaeus persists (indicating real assertiveness from a member of a minority), and that Jesus asks him "What do you want me to do for you?" - not "Let me tell you what you need," or "Let me send you to some other expert who will tell you what you need." Nope. Jesus approaches the need of a person with a disability exactly as it should be handled, with "What do you want?"

Missing the point

But the sermon focuses not on asking people what they need or even the sight afforded Bartimaeus as a metaphor for spiritual understanding.

Rather, we hear about a "home" in town for blind folks (which is not a "home" but a workplace for some and a rehabilitation and training center for others). We hear about the plight of blindness ("Imagine how horrible it would be not to see a starry night") and, my favorite, how amazing are a particular few blind people who sometimes read Scripture aloud in church.

It's 2003. We have laws prohibiting discrimination against people with disabilities. We have blind professionals in the fields of law, education, science, even astronomy and still, I have to hear about blindness as though it is an alien, definitely pitiable, state of being, and about blind people as though they are amazing automatons.

Later, I am in my living room when a magazine article catches my attention: It is about Michael Hingson, a blind man whose guide dog successfully led him down 78 flights of stairs and out of the World Trade Center on Sept. 11. I am pleased to see that a national magazine is featuring a story about a blind professional and his wonderful guide dog. Then, it comes - the statement of fact that no one knew exactly what had hit the building, "least of all" Michael Hingson. Least of all? Why would awareness that an airplane had just struck the tower be a fact that he, "least of all," would be quick to realize? The implication is that as a man who is blind, he is also clueless, unable to fathom what is going on.

Language is power

The problem is that such attitudes are conveyed in the context of such positive commentary that the negative nuances are missed by many. But language is power, and words shape attitudes, and somewhere, in hearing these seemingly positive tales, the notions of the blind, pitiful beggar and the clueless, modern-day blind professional are what's left behind.

Maybe all I can do is write these words: People with disabilities are just people, people with the same remarkable range of traits, tastes and talents as their nondisabled fellow humans. They have certain disadvantages and challenges, but they are just people. Nothing more. Nothing less. Maybe it's just a matter of patience. Maybe one word at a time, we'll all understand it.

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Contact Deborah Kendrick by phone: 673-4474; fax: 321-6430; e-mail: dkkendrick@earthlink.net