Lent 4, Year A, 2005                                                                                   Susan J. Barnes

John 9:1-38                                                                                         St. Matthew’s, Austin

If you’ve been here for the last few weeks, you’ve been treated to a series of long gospels from John.   There was the story of Jesus’ night-time meeting with the Pharisee Nicodemus, then the story of Jesus’ meeting at Jacob’s well with the Samaritan woman—long stories they were, long because there’s a lot to talk about.   Like who Jesus really is, and what he’s about.  What it means to be his follower.  

Today’s lesson is long, too.  And it’s the most confusing of the three.  It’s confusing because there is controversy.   Different groups of people are arguing with each other about a very simple—if miraculous--fact: Jesus gave sight to a man who was blind from birth.   There is controversy because—apart from the blind man and his parents—no one will accept the simple truth, the truth said by the man: “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

All the arguing groups---the disciples, the neighbors, the Pharisees—all of them have gift of sight.   Yet each group, to one extent or another, is blind to the reality that is before their eyes.  

First there are the disciples.  They “see” that the man is blind; so they think they know who he is.   In their prejudice, they brand him as a sinner because of their prejudices.   According to the Jewish purity code, disability is a mark of God’s punishment; “seeing” he is blind the disciples conclude that he (or his parents) must have sinned.    Jesus helps them to see again, with new eyes.

Next there are the man’s neighbors.  They think that they know the blind man.  When they “see” the man healed and walking among them, they no longer recognize him.   They, too, had judged him by his disability.   His wholeness completely changed his status among them.  They can no longer look down on him.  Those who see that he is the same person won’t accept that he is healed.  

Finally, there are the Pharisees.  They come onto the scene with an agenda that blinds them to everything else.   They are determined to discredit Jesus.   So they tie themselves in knots as they twist the evidence—arguing with the man who had been healed, arguing with his parents, arguing among themselves.   That’s when this story gets really confusing!   The Pharisees don’t believe the man.  They don’t believe his parents.  They are so determined to be right and to prove Jesus wrong that they will not listen to anything that contradicts them.

From this long tangle of words emerges the irony is that the blind man comes to see, but the people all around him either refuse to see the truth or they refuse to accept it.  They are blinded to reality by their own prejudices—prejudices like: blind men are sinners; blind men aren’t healed; a man of God doesn’t heal on the Sabbath.

Jesus alone sees with the Kingdom of God eyes that pierce the surface, strip away convention and prejudice to reveal godly truths.  With Kingdom eyes it was plain to see: The blind man was not a sinner, not one to be shunned or dismissed—as the disciples first did.   He was a child of God who needed healing.    God’s will is that all should be healed.   God’s will is that all should be reconciled.    The Sabbath is a holy day; that’s a fine day to do God’s will.   Jesus was present to God’s truth, the truth that lay beneath the surface, the truth that he brought to light.

In our baptismal covenant we pledge to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves.”   Let me repeat: “to seek and serve Christ in ALL PERSONS...”   Jesus is our model.   When Jesus spoke with the Samaritan woman at the well, when Jesus touched and healed the blind man, he sought and served the Christ in each of them.   He looked beyond the facts—the woman’s despised alien tribe, the man’s damning disability—external issues that would have barred him from ministering to them.    Instead, he brought them healing, he brought them the respect and dignity that every person deserves, he brought them the good news of God’s love, he brought them community, he brought them new life in God.

Jesus calls us to do the same.   First we must accept that the Christ dwells in every human being—regardless of where they come from, regardless of what they have done. David Blakey’s talk ten days ago brought that home with haunting power.   Many of you heard it.   For those who did not, after one of David’s dearest friends was brutally murdered, David became poisoned with desire for revenge.  In the quest to free himself of that poison, and to try to forgive, after a long journey he came to confront the murderer in prison.  There, by God’s grace—and to their mutual astonishment--David found Christ in that most miserable and sinful man.

Because David was willing, because he let God speak of forgiveness through him, because David looked the man, Mario, in the eyes, because David was Christ to Mario, when their eyes met, God enabled David Blakey to “see” and to serve the Christ in a murderer.    God brought the most unsuspected truth to light: the Christ dwells in Mario,. too. 

We seek and serve Christ in everyone, because everyone is made in the image and likeness of God.  That image, that likeness, is veiled, marred, and tarnished in me, as it may be in some of you.   In people like Mario, it may be so deeply buried we would not believe it exists—much less that it might be revealed. 

Like the people in today’s gospel story, and to my great regret, I know that my prejudices, my privileges, and my worldview shape and filter my experience of the world around me every day.  There are huge realms of reality—human suffering and deprivation—from which I am sheltered.    When I do see poor people here--on the streets or under the bridges—I may well ignore them, or make assumptions about their “sin” and dismiss them.   Other people I may judge based on their appearance or behavior.    Instead, Jesus calls me to see them with Kingdom eyes.

Few of us will be called to make the kind of journey that David Blakey made—thank God.   But his story should give us the courage to renew our attempts to seek and serve Christ in the people we meet every day.   The key thing is to be present.   Jesus was present to the woman at the well and to the man born blind.   David was present to the man in prison.   To seek Christ, to serve Christ, to see Christ, to know Christ and to make Christ known, we must be present to each person we encounter.   It may only take a minute’s eye contact, a smile from the soul.  Just be present and let God work.

In our baptismal vows we pledge to seek and serve Christ, we pray that we may do so.  B ut we admit and we know too well, that we can do so only with God’s help.   Let it be so.