“I Can See Clearly Now”

 

John 9:1-41
March 2, 2008

St. Paul United Methodist Church
Rev. John Fleming

 

            If you’ve been in church in the last couple of weeks, then you know I’ve been struggling with how long our scripture lessons have been.  Last week’s lesson, Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well was twenty-nine verses long.  Today’s lesson is forty-one verses long.  Next week’s lesson is forty-five verses.  You don’t want me to even mention the number of verses suggested for Palm and Passion Sunday.  In the back of my mind, I remember the pastor who one said to me, “Reading long scripture lessons is what a lazy preacher does.”  I guess I can be accused of many things, but I don’t think that being lazy is one of them.  For next week’s sermon, I’m considering reading only two verses.  Tucked in the middle of the story of the raising of Lazarus are the words, “Jesus wept.”  I probably will end up reading all forty-five verses of scripture first because I don’t think you can hear the Bible enough.  And second, these lessons from John’s gospel are so intricately told that every detail matters.

 

Take today’s story as an example of that.  It reads like a drama or a play with six scene changes.  There are a lot of characters involved in the story, as biblical stories go.  The twelve disciples are there.  The neighbors of the man born blind are there.  The blind man’s parents are there.  The religious leaders were there.  The blind man, of course, was there and so was Jesus.

 

The last two, the man himself and Jesus, get most of the lines in the  play and almost all of the attention, but it may not be the kind of attention either of them were hoping for.  I looked at this lesson as I never have before and I quickly came to the conclusion that according to the story the man and Jesus are the only sinners in the bunch.  The man was a sinner because he was born blind and in his day if such a thing happened, it was someone’s fault, it was your fault or your parents fault.  It was either your sin or your parent’s sins that caused your illness.  I want to quickly say that we don’t believe this kind of thing anymore.  We don’t tie illness to sin.  We don’t worship a God like that.  So the blind man was a sinner.  Jesus was a sinner, too, because he broke one of the Ten Commandments.  He worked on a Sunday.

 

I want you to notice something.  Jesus does his thing, he mixes his salvia and a little dirt, places the concoction on the man’s eyes, tells him to go and wash in the pool at Siloam, and then leaves for a while.  He leaves the man to fend for himself.

 

Can you see it?  He is on his own.  Something great and powerful and wonderful has happened to him.  Suddenly he can see.  I would have liked to have been there when it all happened.  I would have liked to have been his eyes as the shadows turned brilliantly bright.  Can you imagine it, seeing for the first time?  No.  We really cannot.

 

Turn back to the man.  Something great and wonderful happened to him.  He doesn’t have a clue how it worked.  He didn’t know how he got chosen for such a thing.  He doesn’t even know who the stranger was who did this for him.  All he knows of him is the sound of his voice.

 

When the healing happens, all of a sudden the man is bombarded with questions.  Everyone wants to know how it happened.  How were your eyes opened?  Where is the man who did this?  Just mud, huh?  How did he open your eyes?”  As far as I can tell, no one shouted out, “Hallelujah!  It’s a miracle! Or Praise God.”  That is what should have happened.  Instead all anyone wanted to know was how and who and where and what.  They may have thought the man had gotten mixed up in something terrible.  Certainly that could have been the case.  But the truth is he is not altogether sure how it happened to him.  He is only sure that it did happen to him.  He’s not interested if it is right or wrong.  He’s just grateful.

 

I want you to look at his answers.   They are timid one liners at first.  He says things like, “I am the man.  He put mud in my eyes.  I walked to the water.  I washed my eyes.  Now I see.”  No one celebrated with him.  You long for someone to, but they don’t.  Then along come his parents.  Their reaction may be the worse of them all.  They didn’t run up to him and embrace him.  Instead they kept their distance.  The Bible would have us to believe that they did that because they were afraid.  They were afraid of being thrown out of the church!  Granted, getting thrown out of the fellowship is serious business, but this was their kid!  “Ask himself yourselves” they say.  “He’s of age.  He can answer for himself.”

 

Let me ask you, who was really blind that day?  The neighbors didn’t see the man.  The church leaders saw a problem.  His parents saw a social difficulty.  And in the end, because his answers got more and more eloquent and courageous, the man was removed from the premises.  The thirty-fourth verse says it all.  The Pharisees say, “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!  And they threw him out.”  A nobody from nowhere was blind forty-five minutes ago and now he’s just told the Board of Elders, the Board of Ministry, the Bishop and the cabinet, the church council, the seminary professors, “You couldn’t see God if he were standing smack dab in the midst of you!”

 

We catch up with the man after all this has happened and now he is back on the street.  And he’s confused about it.  He was born blind only to be healed.  He was healed only to be kicked out.  He was kicked out only to be left alone?  It all happened so fast!  It all happened on a Sabbath day.  And now he can no longer beg.  Imagine how he feels.

 

That is when Jesus appears again.  Eugene Peterson’s The Message translates the verse with these words, “Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and went and found him.”  I like that about Jesus.  Jesus is a perfect stranger to the man.  The man has never seen Jesus before.  There is something familiar in the sound of his voice.  Jesus asks, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

 

To the man who used to be blind, the question sounds like all of the other questions he’s just answered.  But somehow the question isn’t so harsh.  It sounds more like an offering.  He answers, “And who is he, sir?  Tell me so I may believe in him.”  For the second time in two weeks, Jesus says who he is.  He says, “You have seen him and the one speaking with you is He.”  The man sees and he says, “I believe.”

 

Now, what is so hard about this lesson, it seems to me, is that his confession didn’t take place in a church.  Remember, he’s been thrown out of there.  It doesn’t take place at an altar.  His confession doesn’t involve talking with anyone who has been to seminary.  The man’s name is not put on the membership books.  In the end he confesses.  He is sure of two things.  “He is sure of Jesus and he is sure he can now see.”

 

We have to decide where to fit in this lesson.  Most of us would like to think that we are like the man born blind.  That’s where most of us see ourselves in this story.  Our eyes have been opened.  We have seen things we missed before.

 

Last year The Learning Channel had a wonderful series of shows called The Messengers.  It was a reality show.  Ten people would go out into the world and experience something then come back to the studio, be given a word, and expect to speak on the subject for five minutes.  One person was voted off of the show every week based on their message.  I’m glad we don’t do that here!

 

One of the experiences was to be blindfolded for the better part of a day and then to speak on the subject of perseverance.  The better part of one day; that was it.  They received their sight again at the end of the day.  There is more to blindness than that.  We could all tell stories of the times of our lives when our eyes were opened and we saw something we missed before.  My children help me to see things I have missed.  We can look deeply into someone’s soul and realize something we failed to see.  There is always that.

 

But truthfully I think we’re a whole lot more like the Pharisees than we want to admit.  We guard the faith.  We pay our pledges.  We listen to the sermon.  We say the creeds.  And we are blind.  If we are not careful, friends, we will miss some of the greatest things God does.

 

Vision is the issue dear friends.  Can we really see what God is doing in our world?  Can we really see what God is doing in our lives?  More importantly, can we see what Jesus is doing in someone else’s life?  Can we help them celebrate it?

 

A celebration; that is what should have happened when the man received his sight.  There should have been a party.  A mother and father should have celebrated that they could see each other for the first time.  Their friends and neighbors should have joined in with the celebration.  The church should have been there.  The pastor should have prayed and been overjoyed with the news that one in the flock was blind, but now he could see!

 

As it turns out, that day, only one person could see.  And what he saw he was sure of.  Listen to his words, “I only know one thing.  I once was blind.  Now I see.”  I hope you will open your eyes to the wonders of God.  Let us pray.