19 March 2023 Lent 4

Have you ever been left with the feeling that you ‘know’ someone or something but, because it is out of context, you either dismiss your feelings or assume you are wrong.  In today’s gospel, the friends and others who have seen this blind man in their community for probably all his life, dismiss him as the man they have previously known simply because he can now see, and this is despite the protestations by the man himself that he is, in fact, who he is.

This story gives us pause to ask important questions about ‘blindness’.  What does it mean to be blind.  What is inner blindness.  How do I open myself to receive the inner light of grace.

In this gospel passage, Jesus encounters a blind man, spits on the earth to make mud, puts the mud on the man’s eyes and tells him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam and when he does he can now see.  But this story is less about the healing than it is about the attitudes and responses of the religious community, and the general community, to both the man’s blindness and his miraculous sight.  In the same way as last week when Jesus ‘saw’ the Samaritan woman for who she was, today Jesus ‘sees’ this man born blind like no one else sees him.  Others, including the disciples, only saw a man punished by God for unknown sinfulness, they did not see the man, just his blindness.  And this probably accounts for why, when he is healed and can see, they did not recognise him.  Without his disability, they did not know how to see him because that would have required them to recognise a common humanity or kinship with him, and that was going to be a step too far.  So the community tries every way they can think of to discredit him so that the ‘status quo’ could be reinforced.

To acknowledge his healing would mean they had to acknowledge, even just slightly, that his blindness was not punishment for sin; and if that were true, then they would have to acknowledge that anyone, even they, could become ill, or suffer disability, or pain, or suffering; for no discernible reason at all.  And that would also be a bridge too far.  That would be a version of reality that good folk, good religious folk, could not control, which would be a terrifying scenario.

But not only does the community fail to see the healed man for who he is, but their lack of recognition prevents them from seeing God’s love and power at work in this event.  No one in the story celebrates his healing, not even his parents.  No one expresses joy or wonder or gratitude or awe.  Instead, they respond with contempt.

The Gospels tell us that Jesus’ true identity was unseen by almost everyone until after his Resurrection.  Even his disciples struggled to understand who and what this Teacher is.  Most people only saw Jesus as a magician, a political or military leader, a carpenter’s son, a wise man, a phony, or a clerical threat; but the man previously blind, now free from those filters, sees Jesus as Son of Man, and calls him Lord.  Whereas we often speak about how Jesus truly ‘sees’ people, today we could also say that in this story Jesus himself is ‘truly seen’.  The man previously blind sees Jesus as clearly and wholly as Jesus sees him.  Because he has no preconceptions; because the spiritual ground on which he stands is new and untried; he is able to see God as God is.

This man trusts Jesus, he doesn’t know who it was who healed him other than his name, but he is willing and able to challenge the religious authorities who are trying to dismiss both Jesus and his healing.  He stands up for who Jesus is, he stands up for the healing that is his.  His trust in Jesus is deep enough to allow him to bear radical and honest witness to his experience, even at the risk of being thrown out of his religious community.  In shedding his identity as ‘the blind man’, he becomes a disciple, and pilgrim.  He is willing to step out in faith and forge forward instead of clinging to what others tell him is right and true.  He is, in the truest sense, ‘born again’.

So, the question before us today is, who are the ‘blind’ people in our society that we do not ‘see’ or who we dismiss as ‘not worthy’ of inclusion in our communities, our groups, our churches.  It has taken more than 200 years for us to see First Nations People as ‘one of us’ and not as a ‘different species’.  How do we respond to LGBTIQ+ people; are they accepted as ‘just one of our community’ or are they also one of the ‘outsiders’.  Do we see ‘disability’ or ‘ability’ when we see a person in a wheelchair, a person with Down Syndrome or other chromosomal difference, or a person with neurological or physical impairment.  Are we the ‘person born blind’ or the ‘religious leaders who could not accept his healing’, or are we both at different times and in different situations.

As we continue through our Lenten journey, may we too, confess our blindness and receive sight.  May we be willing to see people and situations for who and what they are, rather than the labels or limitations others or society puts on them.  May we give praise to the one who kneels in the dirt and gets his hands dirty so that we may be healed.