the fourth sunday in lent: the cure of the man born blind

the gospel for this sunday is a long one, the ninth chapter of the gospel according to john, and much happens in it. the actual "cure" part of the story is short, and almost incidental to jesus' answer to a question of his disciples about the man, "'rabbit, who sinned, this man or his parents for him to have been born blind?' 'neither he nor his parents sinned,' jesus answered, 'he was born blind so that the works of god might be displayed in him.'" (vv.2-3)

jesus then does something simple but powerful, both in action and in symbol. after saying "i am the light of the world," he makes a bit of mud with his spittle and the dust, rubs it on the man's eyes, and tells him to wash at the pool of siloam (where the water was drawn for the feast of tabernacles, itself a great light festival).

the man obeys jesus, and he can see. what follows is a sort of turning point in the gospels of lent, for once again the work of the messiah is surprising, but to this surprise, which the pharisees--for which read the religious leaders of the first church of what every brand you like best--do not even admit. instead, after initial and not surprising incredulity, they become comdemnatory. whatever this whoever is doing, it is wrong. he must be corrected. next sunday we will hear the story of an even greater miracle, the raising of lazarus, and the religious leaders will be determined to kill jesus.

however, i want to take a little time to reflect on the man born blind, the disciples' question about sin, and how i find myself in his story. in the midst of the doubts and questions about the rumoured miracle, when people were doubting the identity of the former beggar with his sight restored. "the man himself said, 'i am the man.'" (v. 9

and i am the man, not born blind so much as born in blindness.

the situation is much as it is described in psalm 51, verse five of which is translated by miles coverdale as,
"behold, i was shapen in wickedness,
and in sin hath my mother conceived me."

this does not mean that i was a pre-natal transgressor, nor that my mother committed a sinful act in my conception. rather it recognizes that the environment in which my life started was sinful. indeed how could it be otherwise? i was conceived in san diego at the end of a war waged by the civilized nations of the world against all that might be called civilization, ended by the use of the most devastating weapon yet devised by civilized man, the product of an endeavor blasphemously called the trinity project. this is the character of the world in which i blindly beg.

yet, by the grace of god, i do manage, sometimes, to see. sometimes i recognize that the "word is a lamp unto my feet" (psalm 119:105), that "the word was the true light that enlightens all men." (john 1:9) my problem, my frustration, is that i recognize the light best only when it "shines in the dark." (john 1:5) that is, when i am in my little cell, with the darkness of night all around me, or with the morning stars singing together, calling me to awake then dawn, then i think i see. but when i go into the big world, even the little big world of basin park in eureka springs, my sight becomes fuzzy. i am like mark's blind man of bethsaida: "i see men as trees, walking." (mark 8:22)

pray for me, my brothers and sisters, that i may see those men and those women in basin park as our lord, hungry or thirsty, a stranger or naked, sick or inprisoned, and not fail to come to their help. (matthew 25:44) pray that i need not fear jesus' final words in this sunday's gospel:

"blind? if you were,
you would not be guilty,
but since you say, 'we see,'
your guilt remains." (john 9:41)