John 9:1-41
Our marathon of a scripture reading this morning is a remarkable tale, isn’t it? The story
goes back and forth between the blind man, the Pharisees and Jesus. It reminds
me of those funny, circular jokes – you know how Abbot and Costello would do - who’s
on first, what’s on second - that sort of back and forth. Don’t you think it
would be great if John Cleese or Mr. Bean would tackle this scripture reading?
It does get sort of ridiculous in places. Who cured you? Jesus. Couldn’t have
been, he’s a sinner. Clearly not cause he cured me. No. Not him. What do you
mean, no, not him. I was there! I was blind but now I see!!
We have this scripture reading today because, for a change,
we are actually following the Lectionary for Lent. We have talked about some of
the healing miracles not too long ago but we didn’t look at them in the context
of what Lent calls for us to do during these six weeks—namely to explore and
examine our spiritual and faithful selves. To find the places within our being
that need attention, that need consideration for the Christian practice of
repenting, of turning from what is hurting and broken inside of us and turning
our faces, instead, to what is loving, good and right, towards our God. The assumption,
at the start of our story today, is that either the man who was at first blind
or his parents had sinned in some significant way so that the man was born
without sight. This is a highly disturbing concept of sin that has been
perpetuated for centuries over and over again by religious leaders. The idea
that being born outside the bounds of ‘the usual’ or ‘the normal’ is proof of a
past or ongoing sin is one of Christianity’s greatest failings. I say this as
the parent of a child born blind in one eye. As a parent who had to sit in the
day surgery ward of the children’s hospital visiting with the parents of other
blind children, not knowing if I should be grateful that my child was blind in
only one eye or feel guilty because he wasn’t blind in both eyes as was the
child in the bed next to us. It is simply offensive to think that our God would
cause our children to be blind or otherwise handicapped because of their sin or
ours, as their parents.
But let’s back up a step. The Pharisees start this whole
story by speaking of sin but not explaining it. In our current day, our United
Church denomination would define sin using the 20th century
theologian Paul Tillich’s description – sin is anything that separates us from
God, or that separates us from others or separates us from our own best self. The
Reverend Molly Phinney Baskette would describe the state of living in sin by
using the adjective diabolical. She
writes, ‘the root word for diabolical is diabalein,
which means to separate, to tear apart, to compartmentalize’. In other words, when
we have sinned, we have done something that separates ourselves, not only from
God, but also from being the best we can be because we do not have the ability
to be fully who God made us to be when we are not fully ourselves, when we are
ignoring or hating pieces of ourselves because of some hurtful or painful
experience we have had-whether it was done by our own hand or words to another
or by someone else towards us. Molly later explains that the flip side of
diabalein is ‘integrity’.
The root meaning of the word ‘integrity’ is ‘wholeness’ –
when we repent, make right with God, with those who have hurt us and those we
have hurt in turn, and when we make right with ourselves, we make our way back
to being a whole person again. The seven deadly, or cardinal, sins of pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony,
wrath, and sloth are not sinful when done occasionally or in moderation.
However, those behaviours become sinful when they interfere with living a lifestyle
that gives glory to God, when they prevent meaningful and loving relationships
with one’s family, friends and neighbours. When they discourage helping the
stranger in need and seeking justice for the oppressed and those living at the
margins. When they get in the way of caring, loving and living your life to the
full capacity God would have you live.
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| John 9:1-41 |
If you
follow the entire story, not just reduce to something shorter, more manageable
to be read on a Sunday, if you hear the whole tale, you can hear how Jesus
strives through this story to undermine the simplistic understanding of sin put
forward by the religious leaders. The Pharisees begin the encounter by echoing
the common understanding at the time; that a disability was the result of sin
somewhere in the family, that the blind or disabled clearly must not be
righteousness in God’s eyes as they were inflicted in some way. Only those who
can see, who can move freely, who are not ill, are pious, God-fearing, Law-abiding
people. At this point, I would like to point out that my friend Molly (and I
believe strongly that Jesus would agree with her) would say it is not the
illness or disability that is a manifestation of sin however sin happens if we
refuse treatment or if we refuse to acknowledge that we need assistance, need
help. It is not the illness or disability but it is the refusal itself to be
open and to talk about the issues at hand which create a state of sin because
that refusal allows for secrets to develop between those we love and from those
who love us. These secrets damage our relationship with the people closest to
us and denies God the power to help in any possible way – if only to have God be
the focus of the grief and lament that often needs expressing because life has
been changed forever or life will never be the same having been so ill or
finding oneself without the more full use of ones’ body as they once had
before.
Jesus disagrees
with the Pharisees view on sin. He tells those gathered that, in fact, those
who claim to see are actually the ones who are living with sin. If only they
would admit to blindness, their sin would be resolved. If those who believe
they know everything there is to know about God’s will, about God’s hope for
the world, about how God’s earth is to become God’s heaven through the active
work and participation of God’s people to make peace and wholeness a reality –
if only they would put aside their arrogance for a minute and allow for other
ways of being, to allow for other ways of being right to exist, transformation
can happen. Cause we all know what happens when you think you know all the
answers. The moment you think you know all the possible solutions and there are
no others is the moment you no longer can be innovate, open, compassionate or
empathic. Because you think you know it all.
All great religions call their people towards transformation. Towards
recognizing that you are not fully in the light of day, but in fact, live
somewhat in the dark of all the great possibilities that exist in our world and
our humanity. Our religions, not just Christianity, but Buddhism, Islam,
Hinduism, any religion worth it’s salt, demands stark self-appraisal. Compels
honesty in facing our worst impulses and requires courage in facing our worst
fears. In our own religious tradition, this is the time of repentance. Of
hearing of the ministry of Jesus, the miracles he performed and the challenges
he experienced from those around him, we hear of how this person of God was
able to change the hearts and minds of those who heard him and then look within
ourselves to understand better our relationship with God, with Jesus, where we
allow the Holy Spirit to move, what is not healthy, whole and good in our heart
of hearts and to lift those up and allow God to know we wish to be changed, we
wish to learn more, we wish to seek wholeness, we strive to find peace. And
through the grief and pain of cracking our inner selves open just a little bit,
through the lament that needs expressing so that the light can make it’s way
into the darkness, we can find ourselves, turned a little more closely to God.
Not that things are forgotten. Not that wounds are ever completely healed. But
the itchiness that comes with healing can remind us that others, too, are
hurting, feeling pain, loss, despair. And, in our own healing, we have the
ability to offer healing to others.
Saul
of Tarsus experienced such a transformation on the road to Damascus. In fact,
he was blinded on that journey and only when he professed Jesus to be Lord
above all others did the scales drop from his eyes.
As did the
Roman Emperor Constantine who was very much opposed to the emerging Christian
sect of Judaism until he had a dream in which he figured God told him to put
the image of a cross on the shields of his army. Which he did and the army won
their battle. Upon his Christian conversion, Constantine stopped Christian
persecutions and legalized Christianity, making it possible for the religion to
gain strength and begin to move beyond the Roman Empire.
We must not
forget Ebenezer Scrooge. A perfect tale of transforming from being a miser to
being generous. Scrooge’s transformation is from living a life of scarcity to
living a life full of abundance. While he was not made blind in his
transformation, like Constantine, his experience took place while in a dream.
Of course Scrooge was not a real person but his story is so familiar to us and
it is filled with such hope and possibility, we should not ignore it. Charles
Dickens lived in a time of great poverty and desperation for so many people. Such
transformation of the powerful men in leadership was likely the only perceived
way changes could be made in work place regulation, health care, education and
prison reform.
As did John
Newton. He wrote his famous hymn, Amazing Grace, as a testimony of the change of heart he experienced and how he went from being a slave trader and became an abolitionist.
As did FW
de Klerk. He became Transvaal provincial National Party leader in 1982 For most
of his career, de Klerk had a very conservative reputation. The NP's Transvaal
branch was historically the most staunchly conservative wing of the party, and
he supported continued segregation of universities while Minister of National
Education. It thus came as a surprise when in 1989 he placed himself at the
head of verligte ("enlightened") forces within the governing
party which had come to believe that apartheid could not be maintained forever.
1989 he was elected to a full five-year term as state president. His presidency
was dominated by the negotiation process, mainly between his NP government and
the ANC, which led to the democratization of South Africa.
The
Pharisees were so bent on finding fault with Jesus that they could not see the
miraculous gift of Jesus, himself. They thought their knowledge meant they were
filled with righteousness when, in fact, it blinded them to what was really
important. Love for one another. Love over injustice, love over unfairness,
inequality, hatred, phobias. Love for the stranger, the enemy, they one who
knows not what they do. In the righteous blindness of the Pharisees was
fear—fear of the unknown, fear of being vulnerable, fear of feeling helpless,
dependent on another, fear that there may not be enough love for them when
judgment was made. What this story comes down to, is the Pharisees and other
religious leaders of Jesus’ day, and let’s not forget those holier-than-thou,
pious everyday citizens who easily passed judgment on those who did not follow
the Law as strictly as they did, ALL of those people had some soul-searching to
do. They had to get down from their high horses and do some muck-raking with
their own fears, struggles, insecurities, vulnerabilities. They had to do a
little repenting.
This story
today is not just about the miracle of what Jesus did. It never is. That is why
we need to hear the WHOLE story, from start to finish. Because the story today
is not for us to cluck at the Pharisees and shake our heads at their ignorance
of God’s will, at their ability to avoid God’s call to find wholeness and peace
in this world—with ourselves. No, this story is for us to hear and then to
consider, to turn your gaze inward and ask yourself, “To what am I blind? Where
do I not fully see?” May it be so. Amen.
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