Scripture: John 9:1-39
Put yourself in place of the blind man.
Sitting & begging. It’s what you do. You are a grown man, but you live with your parents. Each day, you lean against the synagogue wall and wait for people to give you alms. You are an example to them of a poor sinner – blind since birth — and you are an opportunity for them to practice charity, as well as to feel better than you, because you must be blind for a reason.
You are not asking for healing. You are not asking for anything but whatever someone will drop in your alms basket. And if they don’t put anything in, you pray that they will leave you alone.
Feel the stone wall against your back. Feel your hands resting on the scratchy alms basket between your knees. Smell the dust of the path. Hear people walking by. Most of them ignore you. Occasionally someone will drop a coin in the basket. On a good day, you hear one coin clink against another. Today is a typical day. One coin. You sit patiently. What else could you do?
You hear a group of people walking by, clumped together in the manner of people walking and talking. They pause. You realize they are talking about you. This could be very good or very bad, depending on whether they all want to give charity or all want to make trouble. Some of the members of the group ask, “Rabbi, who sinned: this man or his parents, causing him to be born blind?”
Your heart sinks. It’s going to be bad. You feel your body tense up. You hope they are content with a blanket condemnation and then will move on. You want to grab your one coin and edge away, but you feel them clustering around you.
You hear the teacher say,
“You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here.
–your body relaxes at the tone of his voice. You can hear the compassion in his tone, as the sense of his words sink in. “No cause and effect.” You are letting that sit in your psyche. Then you realize he’s still talking.
Look instead for what God can do. We need to be energetically at work for the One who sent me here, working while the sun shines. When night falls, the workday is over. For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light. I am the world’s Light.”
–You listen intently to his words, but they make no sense to you. Light and darkness, you have heard those words, of course. But to you, everything is what seeing people call darkness. This man is saying he is the world’s Light. The cynical part of you thinks, “well good for the world. But what does light mean to me?” But the rest of you responds to his voice.
You are surprised at the peace that settles over you as you listen to this compassionate voice. You begin to hope that this will be a good day after all. When you sense the man squat down beside you, your heart leaps. Is he going to empty his purse in your basket?
You hear his hand scratching in the dust. Then you hear him spit.
You are puzzled, but no longer afraid. What’s he doing?
You feel him very close to you. He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you, and then – what is he doing?
He’s touching your eyes! You start, but his hands are very gentle. He rubs the fine mud from his spit and the dust on your eyes.
Then you hear that gentle, amazing voice again.
“Go, wash at the Pool of Siloam”
The pool of Siloam. You know it. Siloam means “sent.” It’s very close to the synagogue wall.
You sit there in shock for an instant.
What is this?
Then you feel hands helping you up.
Here’s your moment of decision.
Do you angrily fling these hands aside and tell them if they’re not going to give you alms, to just go on their way and leave you alone?
Or does curiousity get the best of you?
Well, why not? You are pretty good at judging character through a person’s voice. You’ve never heard a voice quite like this teacher’s voice. He said he was bringing light, whatever that is.
OK. So you shuffle to the pool, feeling your way. The group seems to have moved on elsewhere. You feel no one around as you kneel by the pool. Feel the cool water on your hands. Hear it splash as you dip your hands in and bring the water to your face. You rub the fine mud from your eyes.
They flutter open and …
LIGHT! This must be light. It is so … so loud. It is shouting. It is screaming. Then shapes take form. You look down at the water. You LOOK down at the water. You are seeing for the first time. So that’s what light is. So that’s what it means to SEE.
You stand up and LOOK around. You, you’re LOOKING.
Soon the town is buzzing. Your relatives and those who year after year had seen you as a blind man begging are saying, “Why, isn’t this the man we knew, who sat here and begged?”
9Others say, “It’s him all right!”
But others object, “It’s not the same man at all. It just looks like him.”
You know these people by their voices. You are so swept up in the controversy you barely have time to notice how they look. You say,
“It’s me, the very one.” You are laughing and crying and looking from one to another, seeing their faces for the first time.
10They say, “How did your eyes get opened?”
You say, “A man named Jesus made a paste and rubbed it on my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ I did what he said. When I washed, I saw.” You can hardly believe it yourself, but the proof is right before your eyes. Before your eyes. You can SEE!
And they say,
“So where is he?”
You hear their skepticism and something else – they are not happy for you at all. Your danger signals rise up. What now?
You answer, “I don’t know.”
They march you to the Pharisees, the religious leaders. You recall that this is the sabbath.
You sit blinking in the light looking from one face to another, looking around the synagogue. You know where you are from the smells and the temperature and, well so many senses other than sight. But now you are seeing all this.
But the Pharisees keep grilling you again on how you came to see.
Your delight has faded and your confusion is hardening into annoyance. You say, “He put a clay paste on my eyes, and I washed, and now I see.”
Some of the Pharisees say, “Obviously, this man can’t be from God. He doesn’t keep the Sabbath.”
Others counter, “How can a bad man do miraculous, God-revealing things like this?” You see they forget you for a moment as they dispute with each other.
They come back at you, “You’re the expert. He opened your eyes. What do you say about him?”
You look around you. So this is light. You look at the faces and match what you see with the voices you hear. Some are curious, some are angry. But they are all turned toward you. They are asking you.
This is so new for you. When did anyone pay attention to what you thought?
A wordless prayer rises in your heart. “Help me, God. What has happened?”
You say, “He is a prophet.”
The leaders don’t believe you. They say they don’t believe you were blind to begin with. So they call your parents.
You see your mother and father come in. You want to run to them and shout with joy! Mama, I can see! I can see your faces! I can see the world! I can see the Light!
But the leaders pull your parents away from you and ask, “Is this your son, the one you say was born blind? So how is it that he now sees?”
His parents say slowly, “We know he is our son, and we know he was born blind.” You hear the anxiety in their voices. You see it in their faces. They continue talking. “But we don’t know how he came to see—haven’t a clue about who opened his eyes. Why don’t you ask him? He’s a grown man and can speak for himself.”
You recall the arguments and murmers in the synagogue that some of the leaders have spoken against this Jesus guy, while others have said he is the Messiah. You feel the tension in the room, you hear the struggle in their voices and you see it in their faces and the way they stand.
They turn to you a second time and one of them says, Give credit to God. Tell the truth. We know this man Jesus is an imposter.
You hear the silence, every eye is on you. You who a few hours ago were ignored by everyone , you are now the center of attention.
How are you feeling? What rises up in you?
You reply, “I know nothing about that one way or the other. But I know one thing for sure: I was blind . . . I now see.”
They say, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?”
You feel irritation taking over from fear.
You say, “I’ve told you over and over and you haven’t listened. Why do you want to hear it again?” You can’t help adding, “Are you so eager to become his disciples?”
With that smart-aleck remark, they jump all over you. They all talk at once, “You might be a disciple of that man, but we’re disciples of Moses. We know for sure that God spoke to Moses, but we have no idea where this man even comes from.”
You recall the gentleness and compassion in the teacher’s voice. You recall the calm and acceptance that radiated from his touch and you start feeling more confident. You know they were being sarcastic when they called you the expert. But you realize you are the expert.
You reply, “This is amazing! You claim to know nothing about him, but the fact is, he opened my eyes! It’s well known that God isn’t at the beck and call of sinners, but listens carefully to anyone who lives in reverence and does God’s will. That someone opened the eyes of a man born blind has never been heard of—ever. If this man didn’t come from God, he wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
Well, now you’ve made them doubly angry. They say, “You’re nothing but dirt! How dare you take that tone with us!” Then they throw you out in the street.
You wander around for a while, looking. Looking at everything. But what are you looking for?
A man comes up to you and asks, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”
This is a different kind of question. You are still trying to make sense of being thrown out of the synagogue, and this question doesn’t seem to have anything to do with anything. The Son of Man?
You feel like closing your eyes so you can concentrate, but, of course, you can’t tear your eyes away from this new found light. You say, “Point him out to me, sir, so that I can believe in him.”
Jesus says, “You’re looking right at him. Don’t you recognize my voice?”
What emotions flood your mind as you say, “Master, I believe.”
39Jesus then said, “I came into the world to bring everything into the clear light of day, making all the distinctions clear, so that those who have never seen will see, and those who have made a great pretense of seeing will be exposed as blind.”
40Some Pharisees overheard him and said, “Does that mean you’re calling us blind?”
41Jesus said, “If you were really blind, you would be blameless, but since you claim to see everything so well, you’re accountable for every fault and failure.”
Tags: gospel of John
