John 9:1-41
In Jesus’ day, people thought of light as substance that radiated out from itself, a kind of fire that, when present in the human body, could flow out of a person’s eyes and allow them to see—something akin to a flashlight beam. Someone who couldn’t see lacked light inside their body –they were filled with darkness instead of light. This was not though to be the natural condition, but was the result of sin.
This belief that God caused sinful people to be born blind or lame or deaf was woven deeply into the fabric of the culture, and this understanding extended beyond physical disability—if you were poor or a slave it was because that was to be your God-ordained lot in life. If you had a disability and could not work, you had to rely on charity to survive and you would spend your life on the margins of society—remember there was no governmental safety net for widows, orphans or the disabled.
That is why the Pharisees gave this formerly blind man such a hard time—notice how the Pharisees belittle and berate this man and his parents—in the blindness of their hearts they cannot see how such people would be worthy of receiving such a miraculous gift of healing. The greater blindness is that they do not see that Jesus as the promised messiah, the one sent by God to bring sight to the world.
It is notable that this story of the blind man has some similarities to the story we heard last week about the Samaritan woman at the well, whom Jesus encounters—both the woman and the blind man were outsiders in their community—the woman because of her checkered marital history, and the man, because of his disability. Both encountered Jesus and both were transformed into powerful witnesses—they both end up doing the most effective form of evangelism there is—they tell their own story in their own words to others, who are then faced with a choice—to seek out the source of hope, or to continue in blindness.
Of course you know I have to ask the question, “In what ways are we blind?” In what ways do our beliefs and behaviors demonstrate our spiritual blindness? We church-going folk tend to be educated believers. Most of what we know is good, and we have a rich tradition to nurture us. We have learned many good things about God and Christ and the church, and we are in the line of a tradition that strongly proclaims God’s grace and love in word and deed.
The Pharisees also thought that their religious learning and traditions and actions were the very best possible. Their chief complaint against Jesus was that he was doing healing on the Sabbath, and even more nit-picky was that in the process of making the mud from his spit and dirt, Jesus was “kneading together” like you knead bread dough–which violated the prohibition of working on the Sabbath. “We’ve always kept the Sabbath this way.” Does that sound a little bit familiar? This is not to say that keeping the Sabbath or the form in which we worship is not important, but Jesus’ acts of mercy force us to consider the difference between the Spirit and the letter of the Law. For them and for us, knowledge of the Law in and of itself and obedience to the Law and traditions can become a new god.
Remember–we never make gods of things we think are bad. Jesus turns spit and dirt into mud and heals on the Sabbath to expose and destroy such false gods as trusting in our obedience of the rules and laws. Laws have their place and I really get irritated by people who break the rules—such as people driving by themselves using the carpool lane to zip by traffic, or the person who has 10 items in the 9 items or less line. By his actions, Jesus says, “I am destroying the false security you place in your obedience. I am replacing it with myself. You can either trust your obedience or me; but not both.” One has to choose between Moses or Jesus — between trusting obedience to the law or Jesus’ offer of divine grace. Somewhere I read this quote: “Stop acting so good and start being a Christian.” Could this apply to some of us today?
What other forms of blindness do we suffer from? We as sinful humans, I think we can agree that the list of things we do not see that God desires we see is a long and painful one indeed.
Do you remember the horrible tsunamis in south Asia? The response to the Tsunami disaster was an unprecedented and overwhelming outpouring of aid and assistance from around the world—the Red Cross actually had to request that people stop sending money, because they had enough to rebuild affected regions for the next 20 years, and that there were other situations and disasters that were in danger of being neglected in the rush to aid the victims of the Tsunami. The same was true, when it came to the volunteer response to Katrina—I was there and saw it—a huge, complex logistical challenge was undertaken mostly by churches and other non-profits—the UMC was awarded the largest contract ever for the management of the long-term recovery programs. We do have something to be proud of.
But even this show of love and care raised the question for a number of commentators—why does it take a gigantic natural disaster to inspire such an outpouring of aid? Are there not countless personal disasters in our own backyards that are just as devastating to the lives of those affected as those impacted by the Tsunami? What about hunger and homelessness and disease in our own community? I know that many of you have opened your eyes and your hearts and have been caring for and supporting many local programs like Plowshares, Project Sanctuary, the homeless shelter, the kids at school-oftentimes in very quiet and private ways, and I thank God that you’re doing that great work—but is it ever enough? If you make yourself available, the work is unlimited, so we do what we can and count on God’s promised future when we won’t need to do that work.
There are other, deeper forms of blindness that we suffer from. Too often, Jesus would say, that we are blind to the ways in which our hard hearts are closed to the gift of the Holy Spirit—closed to the power of Christ to transform our lives as Jesus transformed the lives of those he touched with spit and dirt. Too often, Jesus would say, too often we are blind to the truth that we cannot save ourselves—we forget that all of our rituals and works may be good things, but they by themselves do not a disciple of Christ make.
In the final part of the Gospel, Jesus encounters the man that he healed and who had been driven out of the Temple by the Pharisees. In this moment, Jesus invites this formerly blind man to see something deeper and even more miraculous that the gift of his sight—Jesus invites him into a relationship with God—The God who heals the brokenness and binds the wounds of the least of people, the God who judges self-righteousness to be the worst of all sins. Jesus invites the blind in every time and place to open our eyes to truly see ourselves as we are and to see the wonders of creation and the gift of life that is ours through Christ, because seeing is believing. Amen
Technorati Tags: Lent 4, blind man, healing, spiritual blindness
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