"Close Encounters of the Christ Kind: Man Born Blind"
3/30/14 (Lent 4A)
John 9:1-45
Close Encounters of the Christ Kind: The Man Born Blind
As he sat along the outskirts of the temple, it had started out as just another day. Another day listening to the people on the streets passing him by, feeling the brush of the cloth of their cloaks against him as they moved to avoid him, smelling the heavy scent of the offerings being burnt nearby. Every once in a while, he’d hear the people talking about him in hushed whispers, the children asking their parents why the man’s eyes were so cloudy or the murmurs of distaste that he’d pick this particular place to sit. He’d grown used to it, to be honest - he didn’t have to be able to see to know that people looked down on him, to know that he would never really fit in with the rest of his world because of his blindness. But all the same, there was a part of him that liked to sit there, to hear the people passing by, that even found entertainment at the fact that some of them thought that just because he couldn’t see them, that he also couldn’t hear the things they said about him or understand the way they viewed him.
So when the men walking by asked the question, it didn’t surprise him - he just listened, a slight smile on his face, curious to hear what great pronouncement of God’s judgment he was about to hear this time. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” What did surprise him, however, was the Rabbi’s answer - “Neither one.” And the Rabbi continued, talking of God’s works being revealed in him, that this Rabbi was the “light of the world.” He couldn’t help but be curious now, to listen more intently and hear what the rest of the conversation would reveal. What finally did surprise him, though, was when someone - he could only assume it was the Rabbi, since no one spoke directly to him or said anything at all - spread mud across his eyes and then told him to up and go wash in the pool of Siloam. It was sudden. It was unexpected. It happened in the blink of a muddied eye and he didn’t know what else to do at this point but to obey. And as he felt his way to the pool, dipped his hands into the cold waters and began to rub away the mud from his eyes… he began to see. The first splash and it was like sudden pinpricks of… something. He shook his head, trying to clear them, not having any luck, so he took another handful of water over his face and eyes. And like a thick film of mud and dirt coming off of a window, revealing the bright light of day into a darkened space, he could see. And so he started taking in everything - the glint of the water at the pool, the mud swirling around in it that had just before been over his eyes, the faces of the people and the colors of everything around him. And as he wanders, slack-jawed and wide-eyed with wonder back to where he’d been sitting before, people start to take notice. They, too, become slack-jawed and wide-eyed as they see a man who is no longer feeling his way along the walls, asking people for alms, but staring out in wonder at the world suddenly opened to him, looking directly into their faces and seeing them. He hears them all, each one asking “Isn’t that the blind beggar from over on the corner? No… must be someone who looks like him. No, it is him! There’s no way it could be…” and all the while, he’s telling every one of them “I am the man. I’m exactly who you think I am. It’s me! I can see!”
None of the people he meets can quite believe it. It strains the imagination, to be sure - to be honest, he’s still trying to wrap his mind around it himself. They keep asking him “If you’re the same guy, then how were your eyes opened? Tell me that, why don’t you.” And all he can tell them in response is “I don’t know! The man called Jesus put mud on my eyes, then he told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I washed! And now I can see!” And as he’s whisked along by the crowds, telling the story again and again to each one who asks, he finally gets dragged up to the Pharisees - this they’ve got to see! And so he stands before the Pharisees and they ask him all the same questions again: “How were your eyes opened?” And he tells them again, plain as day, plain as he’s been telling everyone before - “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” That’s it. That’s all he knows - and it’s an incredible story! He holds his hands out, points to his eyes, and waits for the Pharisees to exclaim their own wonder and amazement, to celebrate this miracle with him.
Instead, he becomes the center ring of a three ring circus, a comedy of errors in which as he is taken along for the ride, he has to tell the story over and over again, to stare people plain in the face as they tell him that he couldn’t have been blind in the first place, that it couldn’t have been a miracle because it was performed on the Sabbath, that it couldn’t have been done because a sinner couldn’t have performed such signs in the fist place.
When they finally get around to asking him what he thinks about the whole thing, he’s heard it hashed and rehashed so many times that he’s finally able to start processing it all. And the only conclusion that he can reach is that Jesus has to be some kind of prophet. And as soon as he says his piece about who he thinks Jesus is, he’s immediately disregarded all over again. They can’t take his word for it - they have to know more. There’s got to be another level to the story. So they drag his parents into the mix, as if they would be able to give them the how and the why that they now seem so desperate to dig up. And his parents, who weren’t even there, but who recognize their own son and what has happened to him… his own parents… only go so far as to say that he was born blind and can now see. As for anything else, let him speak for himself, they say. Let him get in trouble and get put out of the synagogue - we don’t want any part of it past what we’ve already said.
With that, it’s the last straw for the formerly blind man. He’s tired of answering the same questions time and time again, and he starts to get snarky. They try to get him to ‘fess up: “Come clean! We know that Jesus is a sinner.” And he says “I know nothing of the sort - all I know is that I was blind, and now I see.” They try to get him to tell it all again, thinking maybe he’ll slip up somewhere this time. He responds with sarcasm: “What, you want to hear it again? Do you also want to be his disciples?” And suddenly he realizes - he is now not only being counted among Jesus’ disciples, but is considering himself a disciple, as well. And as they accuse him and try to tell him how wrong he has to be because they don’t know where Jesus comes from, the man tells them what they don’t seem to be able to see for themselves. The red creeping into his face and steam pouring out of his ears, he slams it home to them: “Here is an astonishing thing! You don’t know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. God doesn’t listen to sinners, but to those who worship him and obey his will. Nobody in history has opened the eyes of a person born blind - so if this man wasn't from God, he couldn’t have done it!”
You can hear a pin drop in the room where he stands with the Pharisees. His shoulders heave as he catches his breath from letting it all out. And the Pharisees sit in stunned silence for a beat. It’s the moment of truth, the moment where this once blind man has handed them the answer they’re looking for on a silver platter… and the Pharisees bury their heads in the sand. They get all flustered and shake their hands at him, shooing him off like a mutt in the streets: “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us? What would you know about it, anyway?” And they drive him out.
And so the man finds himself sitting back where he started. He’s bewildered, still not sure what has just happened to him, even though he knows this one thing above all else that he was blind, but now he sees.
That’s when Jesus comes back onto the scene. He comes calmly, plainly, with a question of his own: “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” And this man, who can see clearly and yet feels as bewildered as the rest of the people around him, reaches out - “Who is he? Tell me, so that I can believe in him!” And just as the blind man himself told so many who refused to see him, Jesus answers simply: “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” And finally, the man can really see - he sees everything, and it makes perfect sense. And with this miraculous vision, the man believes and gives Christ his complete worship.
The man was blind, but Jesus helped him to see, and now that he could see, he gladly left behind the Pharisees, the people of his town, his own parents, to let them keep seeing what they wanted to see, to remain blind in their own knowledge, their own belief that they could fit God into their own little perfect box… he left the rest of them behind, blind to the reality in front of them, while he carried on, wide-eyed and wondering, able to see the only thing that mattered now. And what a glorious sight that was. To God be the Glory. Amen.
John 9:1-45
Close Encounters of the Christ Kind: The Man Born Blind
As he sat along the outskirts of the temple, it had started out as just another day. Another day listening to the people on the streets passing him by, feeling the brush of the cloth of their cloaks against him as they moved to avoid him, smelling the heavy scent of the offerings being burnt nearby. Every once in a while, he’d hear the people talking about him in hushed whispers, the children asking their parents why the man’s eyes were so cloudy or the murmurs of distaste that he’d pick this particular place to sit. He’d grown used to it, to be honest - he didn’t have to be able to see to know that people looked down on him, to know that he would never really fit in with the rest of his world because of his blindness. But all the same, there was a part of him that liked to sit there, to hear the people passing by, that even found entertainment at the fact that some of them thought that just because he couldn’t see them, that he also couldn’t hear the things they said about him or understand the way they viewed him.
So when the men walking by asked the question, it didn’t surprise him - he just listened, a slight smile on his face, curious to hear what great pronouncement of God’s judgment he was about to hear this time. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” What did surprise him, however, was the Rabbi’s answer - “Neither one.” And the Rabbi continued, talking of God’s works being revealed in him, that this Rabbi was the “light of the world.” He couldn’t help but be curious now, to listen more intently and hear what the rest of the conversation would reveal. What finally did surprise him, though, was when someone - he could only assume it was the Rabbi, since no one spoke directly to him or said anything at all - spread mud across his eyes and then told him to up and go wash in the pool of Siloam. It was sudden. It was unexpected. It happened in the blink of a muddied eye and he didn’t know what else to do at this point but to obey. And as he felt his way to the pool, dipped his hands into the cold waters and began to rub away the mud from his eyes… he began to see. The first splash and it was like sudden pinpricks of… something. He shook his head, trying to clear them, not having any luck, so he took another handful of water over his face and eyes. And like a thick film of mud and dirt coming off of a window, revealing the bright light of day into a darkened space, he could see. And so he started taking in everything - the glint of the water at the pool, the mud swirling around in it that had just before been over his eyes, the faces of the people and the colors of everything around him. And as he wanders, slack-jawed and wide-eyed with wonder back to where he’d been sitting before, people start to take notice. They, too, become slack-jawed and wide-eyed as they see a man who is no longer feeling his way along the walls, asking people for alms, but staring out in wonder at the world suddenly opened to him, looking directly into their faces and seeing them. He hears them all, each one asking “Isn’t that the blind beggar from over on the corner? No… must be someone who looks like him. No, it is him! There’s no way it could be…” and all the while, he’s telling every one of them “I am the man. I’m exactly who you think I am. It’s me! I can see!”
None of the people he meets can quite believe it. It strains the imagination, to be sure - to be honest, he’s still trying to wrap his mind around it himself. They keep asking him “If you’re the same guy, then how were your eyes opened? Tell me that, why don’t you.” And all he can tell them in response is “I don’t know! The man called Jesus put mud on my eyes, then he told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I washed! And now I can see!” And as he’s whisked along by the crowds, telling the story again and again to each one who asks, he finally gets dragged up to the Pharisees - this they’ve got to see! And so he stands before the Pharisees and they ask him all the same questions again: “How were your eyes opened?” And he tells them again, plain as day, plain as he’s been telling everyone before - “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” That’s it. That’s all he knows - and it’s an incredible story! He holds his hands out, points to his eyes, and waits for the Pharisees to exclaim their own wonder and amazement, to celebrate this miracle with him.
Instead, he becomes the center ring of a three ring circus, a comedy of errors in which as he is taken along for the ride, he has to tell the story over and over again, to stare people plain in the face as they tell him that he couldn’t have been blind in the first place, that it couldn’t have been a miracle because it was performed on the Sabbath, that it couldn’t have been done because a sinner couldn’t have performed such signs in the fist place.
When they finally get around to asking him what he thinks about the whole thing, he’s heard it hashed and rehashed so many times that he’s finally able to start processing it all. And the only conclusion that he can reach is that Jesus has to be some kind of prophet. And as soon as he says his piece about who he thinks Jesus is, he’s immediately disregarded all over again. They can’t take his word for it - they have to know more. There’s got to be another level to the story. So they drag his parents into the mix, as if they would be able to give them the how and the why that they now seem so desperate to dig up. And his parents, who weren’t even there, but who recognize their own son and what has happened to him… his own parents… only go so far as to say that he was born blind and can now see. As for anything else, let him speak for himself, they say. Let him get in trouble and get put out of the synagogue - we don’t want any part of it past what we’ve already said.
With that, it’s the last straw for the formerly blind man. He’s tired of answering the same questions time and time again, and he starts to get snarky. They try to get him to ‘fess up: “Come clean! We know that Jesus is a sinner.” And he says “I know nothing of the sort - all I know is that I was blind, and now I see.” They try to get him to tell it all again, thinking maybe he’ll slip up somewhere this time. He responds with sarcasm: “What, you want to hear it again? Do you also want to be his disciples?” And suddenly he realizes - he is now not only being counted among Jesus’ disciples, but is considering himself a disciple, as well. And as they accuse him and try to tell him how wrong he has to be because they don’t know where Jesus comes from, the man tells them what they don’t seem to be able to see for themselves. The red creeping into his face and steam pouring out of his ears, he slams it home to them: “Here is an astonishing thing! You don’t know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. God doesn’t listen to sinners, but to those who worship him and obey his will. Nobody in history has opened the eyes of a person born blind - so if this man wasn't from God, he couldn’t have done it!”
You can hear a pin drop in the room where he stands with the Pharisees. His shoulders heave as he catches his breath from letting it all out. And the Pharisees sit in stunned silence for a beat. It’s the moment of truth, the moment where this once blind man has handed them the answer they’re looking for on a silver platter… and the Pharisees bury their heads in the sand. They get all flustered and shake their hands at him, shooing him off like a mutt in the streets: “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us? What would you know about it, anyway?” And they drive him out.
And so the man finds himself sitting back where he started. He’s bewildered, still not sure what has just happened to him, even though he knows this one thing above all else that he was blind, but now he sees.
That’s when Jesus comes back onto the scene. He comes calmly, plainly, with a question of his own: “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” And this man, who can see clearly and yet feels as bewildered as the rest of the people around him, reaches out - “Who is he? Tell me, so that I can believe in him!” And just as the blind man himself told so many who refused to see him, Jesus answers simply: “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” And finally, the man can really see - he sees everything, and it makes perfect sense. And with this miraculous vision, the man believes and gives Christ his complete worship.
The man was blind, but Jesus helped him to see, and now that he could see, he gladly left behind the Pharisees, the people of his town, his own parents, to let them keep seeing what they wanted to see, to remain blind in their own knowledge, their own belief that they could fit God into their own little perfect box… he left the rest of them behind, blind to the reality in front of them, while he carried on, wide-eyed and wondering, able to see the only thing that mattered now. And what a glorious sight that was. To God be the Glory. Amen.
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