As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent).
Then he went and washed and came back able to see.
The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.”
But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”
They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.”
Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”
The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”
So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.”
The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.
Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him.
Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.” John 9:1-41
A few days ago, I attended an online event co-hosted by musician Ken Medema. Ken’s a cherished friend. We’ve worked together many times through the years. And he’s the regular music leader at my yearly conference, Southern Lights.
He’s a wonderful songwriter and performer — and he’s known for his signature improvisational interpretations of lectures and speeches in music.
Did I mention that Ken was born (almost completely) blind?
When audiences hear him, they are often surprised by this. He’s so “insightful,” they always say. Indeed, one of the commenters online said that Ken “sees” better than most people with sight — that he is a visionary.
“Seeing” is one of those odd words in English that refers to both a physical capacity and a spiritual gift. And sometimes, as Ken knows and takes with a kind of savvy kindness, it is the “sighted” who don’t see and the blind who do.
And that is today’s gospel story: Jesus heals a man born blind.
This is one of those passages where Christians often trip over antisemitism. Two theological questions emerge as a result of the man being healed. The first concern is many people believed that blindness was the result of sin; the second, and more pressing, issue is that Jesus healed the man on the Sabbath. Did that make Jesus a sinner?
The antisemitism arises when Christians interpret “some of the Pharisees” to mean all of the Jews. But the gospel’s author is fairly clear: “some of the Pharisees” and “and they (the Pharisees) were divided.” The fight is an internal argument between Jewish leaders about a Jewish rabbi (Jesus) over a Jewish man who was healed and involved his Jewish parents. Everybody in this story is Jewish. And it has nothing — absolutely nothing — to do with Jews-in-general being blind to God’s work or being overly legalistic or whatever.
For what it is worth, the author of John isn’t a very good writer. The passage is riddled with unclear referents and generalized pronouns. If you miss the “some” and the “they were divided” parts, and you don’t know that everyone in the story is Jewish, you might come to the conclusion that Jews-in-general are the bad guys. And that “they” are spiritually blind.
But the Jewish man, the fellow healed of blindness on the Sabbath, has a remarkable testimony: “I do not know whether Jesus is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”
“They,” those “some” of the Pharisees who are angry about this whole business, continue to badger the healed man (whose Jewish parents are also questioned — they were afraid of being put out of their synagogue), and press on: “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?”
I guess they were worried about Jesus performing some sort of magic or witchcraft.
The now-seeing man replied, with more than a little exasperation, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?….You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”
Some of these particular religious leaders take offense at the man’s certainty. “‘You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?’ And they drove him out.”
Sermons often end there. At least a lot of sermons that I’ve heard through the years.
But Jesus didn’t stop there. Instead, he offered an explanation himself: “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”
And there’s a coda: “Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, ‘Surely we are not blind, are we?’” There’s that “some” again. Surely, “some” others understood. A healing on the Sabbath, while irksome and unexpected, was still a healing. And the God of Israel was known to have done some pretty surprising things. I’m pretty certain that “some” others went away with their field of vision widened to the mystery and wonder of God’s touch. And maybe “many” pondered the questions raised by this incident long after the healing took place.
Only “some” remained blind.
I’ve always been intrigued by this theological quarrel — and have often fixated on the ones who wouldn’t or couldn’t see. But this week, I’m thinking about the man born blind, the one who was healed, the one with such certainty, clarity, and chutzpah that he lectured a bunch of theologians on their spiritual blindness.
Have you ever seen when it seemed as if everyone around you was blind?
I have.
Several weeks ago, I was at an event in California. A number of former students of mine came. It was wonderful to see all of them after almost thirty years! One, sharing how much they still appreciated what I had taught them, remarked, “I remember when you came into class one day and gave an impromtu lecture about the dangers of a ‘Christian America.’ Some people said that you were exaggerating and didn’t know what you were talking about. But now? That’s exactly what happened — it was the beginnings of Christian nationalism. You helped me see it.”
Stuff like that — extemporaneous lecturing on religion and politics — has often gotten me in trouble. And it did all those years ago. That particular lecture was prompted by a local Republican political candidate blanketing the campus with little American flags and crosses while spouting Christian America propaganda. In a state of historical perturbation, I walked into my classroom and told the students exactly how wrong it was.
I well remember colleagues criticizing me for being an alarmist, for being partisan, for…well, whatever popped into their minds. They always had some theological complaint against me.
Even then, however, I was sure that the admixture of evangelicalism and politics would wind up in a very bad place — and I told the truth toward that end.
But the Christians — or some of them — with whom I worked didn’t believe me. It was as if they didn’t want to see what was so obvious to me. And, if they were alive today (most of them have passed on), I’m pretty certain that they still wouldn’t see Christian nationalism as a problem. Choosing to stay “blind” is something we humans do, especially if that blindness protects our position and power.
I wasn’t long for that teaching post. The “some” who didn’t like what I had to say held a lot of the power. And yes, I was “driven out.”
Until that recent encounter, it never occurred to me that “some others” had listened. They’d seen something different because of my testimony. I’d always focused on those who wouldn’t see. But the conversation with those former students reminded me that for all who remain blind, there are many who are healed. Many who continue to ask questions; many who ponder; many who see.
Yes, the blind will see. And yes, as Jesus insisted, the sighted may be blind. It takes courage to stand up to those who refuse to envision a world touched by God’s love and justice. Sometimes it takes breaking the rules, even meaningful and beautiful rules, to open the eyes of possibility to healing our blindness to God’s grace and glory.
Maybe we’re on a journey toward vision. Perhaps “seeing” is more of a road than a state. Maybe few of us really see fully. Maybe we all need spittle and mud and healing waters. Perhaps our vision is never as clear as we think.
Maybe it is only those born blind who see more than we sighted folks can truly know. Diane Butler Bass from “The Cottage”
