John 9
1 As he walked along, he saw a
man blind from birth. 2 His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this
man or his parents, that he was born blind?" 3 Jesus answered,
"Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's
works might be revealed in him. 4 We must work the works of him who sent me
while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. 5 As long as I am in the
world, I am the light of the world." 6 When he had said this, he spat on
the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, 7
saying to him, "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam" (which means Sent).
Then he went and washed and came back able to see. 8 The neighbors and those
who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, "Is this not the man who
used to sit and beg?" 9 Some were saying, "It is he." Others
were saying, "No, but it is someone like him." He kept saying,
"I am the man." 10 But they kept asking him, "Then how were your
eyes opened?" 11 He answered, "The man called Jesus made mud, spread
it on my eyes, and said to me, "Go to Siloam and wash.' Then I went and
washed and received my sight." 12 They said to him, "Where is
he?" He said, "I do not know." 13 They brought to the Pharisees
the man who had formerly been blind. 14 Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus
made the mud and opened his eyes. 15 Then the Pharisees also began to ask him
how he had received his sight. He said to them, "He put mud on my eyes.
Then I washed, and now I see." 16 Some of the Pharisees said, "This
man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath." But others
said, "How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?" And they
were divided. 17 So they said again to the blind man, "What do you say
about him? It was your eyes he opened." He said, "He is a prophet."
18 The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight
until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight 19 and
asked them, "Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does
he now see?" 20 His parents answered, "We know that this is our son,
and that he was born blind; 21 but we do not know how it is that now he sees,
nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for
himself." 22 His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews;
for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the
Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. 23 Therefore his parents said,
"He is of age; ask him." 24 So for the second time they called the
man who had been blind, and they said to him, "Give glory to God! We know
that this man is a sinner." 25 He answered, "I do not know whether he
is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see." 26
They said to him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?"
27 He answered them, "I have told you already, and you would not listen.
Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his
disciples?" 28 Then they reviled him, saying, "You are his disciple,
but we are disciples of Moses. 29 We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as
for this man, we do not know where he comes from." 30 The man answered,
"Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and
yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he
does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. 32 Never since the
world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born
blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." 34 They
answered him, "You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach
us?" And they drove him out. 35 Jesus heard that they had driven him out,
and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?"
36 He answered, "And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him."
37 Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is
he." 38 He said, "Lord, I believe." And he worshiped him. 39
Jesus said, "I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not
see may see, and those who do see may become blind." 40 Some of the
Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, "Surely we are not blind,
are we?" 41 Jesus said to them, "If you were blind, you would not have
sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,' your sin remains.”
It all started with a question…and
what a question it was! It was the kind of question you have no doubt asked in
one way or another at some point in your own life. It was the kind of question
that comes loaded with all sorts of preconceived notions, all kinds of
pre-packaged answers created by so-called certainties held by those for whom
the unknown and mysterious are too uncomfortable. It was the kind of question a
student might naturally ask a teacher, the kind of question a disciple might
ask a rabbi when traveling in Jerusalem in the first century[1]
when they come upon a man blind from birth: "Rabbi, who sinned, this man
or his parents, that he was born blind?"
“Whose fault is it?” That’s
what they want to know. Who’s to blame for this man’s apparent disability?
Don’t we ask the same kinds of questions? I mean, they may sound different,
involve different circumstances, use different words, but the questions we ask
are essentially the same, and can usually be boiled down to three little
letters: W-H-Y. “Why...Why did this happen to me…Why does this keep happening
to my family…Why do those people get the things I want even though they
obviously don’t deserve it…Why isn’t life fair?” We ask these kinds of
questions all the time. In fact, for many of us, it is those kinds of questions
that bring us to places like this on days like today; we’re looking for the
answers to life’s biggest questions, the biggest of which is “Why?”
While Jesus’ disciples use a
different interrogative in their question to Jesus, the gist of the question is
the same: “Why was this man born blind?” They have two answers already lined
up, so surely Jesus would clear the air for them; he’d sort out the truth
between these two, religiously and culturally approved answers. You see, in the
first century it was understood that if a child was born with some
malformation, some imperfection, then it was either the result of that child
performing some sort of pre-natal, pre-existent sin, or its parents had
committed some sort of sin that was either transferred to the child or the
child’s imperfection was a punishment for the parents’ sin. Likely, the
disciples knew of these two commonly held understandings, but they wanted Jesus
to tell them which one it really was—at least in the case of this one blind
man. Unfortunately, Jesus doesn’t really give them the sort of clarification
they wanted.
In verses 3-5, Jesus seems to speak over the disciples’ question, not
providing the sort of answer they wanted, but going farther to speak words
about the disciples themselves—not the blind man: “Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man nor his
parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him.
We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when
no one can work. As long as I am in the
world, I am the light of the world.’" Now, I don’t want any of you
to get the wrong idea here. Too many times this passage has been used to
justify the belief that God is somehow responsible for all the terrible things
that cross our paths on this side of eternity, but understand this: when Jesus
says “this man was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him,”
this isn’t some universal declaration that all the tragedies of life are
somehow miraculous instances waiting to break forth on the world. No, Jesus is
speaking of that particular instance and (more specifically) the reactions that
follow Jesus’ restoration of sight to the blind man. After all, to hold to such
a view of tragedy (that God is going to use every case as some miraculous
occurrence) all too often leads us down a road of disappointment in the divine;
it leads to the kinds of accusations of blame that Jesus’s disciples had in the
first place. That isn’t the point of Jesus’ response.
After Jesus’ unanticipated answer to
his disciples, he does something even more surprising. Unsolicited, Jesus spits
on the ground, mixes the dirt and saliva together to make a little mud, places
the mud on the eyes of the blind man, and then tells him to wash in the pool of
Siloam. Seems a bit odd doesn’t it? Perhaps we’ve grown so used to the gospel
story that its strangeness is lost on us, but imagine for a moment what it must
have been like: a band of strangers, passing through a neighborhood, and when
they come upon the local blind beggar, one of them spits on the ground and rubs
it in the blind man’s eyes and tells him go wash his face! That almost seems
like a cruel joke! But we know something more, something divine, takes place,
because we’re told the man comes back and can see! The change that has come
over the man is so complete, so powerful that the people in the town (people
who have likely passed him by dozens of times) aren’t even sure if it’s really
the same man who used to beg for their pocket change! If the story ended here,
it would be amazing. It would be the kind of story we’d tell over and over
again at vacation Bible schools; it would be the kind of story that we’d see
illuminated with stain glass or painted on the ceilings and altars of
cathedrals. Of course, we do tell this story at VBS, and we do see it in church
art from time-to-time, but we only see and hear a part of the story; we need to
hear (as Paul Harvey was famous for saying) the rest of the story, the story of
what happens after the man comes back
from Siloam with the ability to see, with the ability to walk in the light and
no longer grope in the life-long dark of blindness.
What started with one question leads
to many more questions. When the man returns, able to see, those who knew him kept
asking him, "Then how were your eyes opened?" They want to
know how, by what manner was this man who had been born blind now able to see.
And he gives them the straightforward answer in verse 11: He answered, "The
man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam
and wash.' Then I went and washed and received my sight."
Straight, to-the-point facts about how he received his sight. But his answer
only leads to more questions.
They ask him where Jesus is; he doesn’t know. They take him to a group of
Pharisees, where he is asked to recount the whole ordeal again. These Pharisees
dismiss Jesus as a sinner, but that only leads to more questions that lead to
division among the Pharisses: "How can a man who is a sinner perform
such signs?" That only leads to more questions directed at the
formerly blind man: "What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened." He
said, "He is a prophet." When they weren’t satisfied with the
man’s answer they called his parents! (You can imagine his possible shame and
embarrassment at this point.) His parents, out of their fear of what might
happen to them if it even looks like they might support Jesus, defer back to
their son, who is, after all, a big boy and can answer his own questions! So,
they call the man out on the carpet a second time and say “Give glory to God! We know that
this man is a sinner." They have moved past trying to understand
how this man received his sight and have focused their energy on debunking
Jesus as a prophet, as one from God with the power to restore sight to the
blind.
But it is the man’s response to their demand in this second round of
interrogation that turns this story around. In verse 25, He answered, "I do
not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind,
now I see." Can you hear what he’s saying? "I do not know
whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind,
now I see." This is no grand confession of orthodoxy, no
theological creed or divine proclamation. This man’s words are words spoken
from experience; this is an announcement of lived transformation, not a
statement of bulleted theological points, but a pronouncement that comes
directly from this man’s experience with Christ!
His interrogators, however, are unimpressed, so they continue with the
same line of questioning: they said to him, "What did he do to
you? How did he open your eyes?" You can almost hear the
irritation in the man’s voice in verse
27: He answered them, "I have told
you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you
also want to become his disciples?" Put off by the sheer notion of
being disciples of Jesus they respond to the man’s bold reply: "You
are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to
Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from."
What follows in verses 30-34 is an
exchange between the man and his questioners that leads to the man’s expulsion
from the synagogue, a socially and culturally disastrous outcome, even for one
who had already been on the margins as a blind beggar. For all intents and
purposes the recently-blind man has become an outcast in every sense of the
word, all because a man he had never met, rubbed some mud in his eyes, and now
he can see.
What happens in the final verses of our text this morning helps to shine
a light on all that has taken place up to this point: Jesus heard that they had driven
him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of
Man?" He answered, "And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may
believe in him." Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, and the one
speaking with you is he." He said, "Lord, I believe." And he
worshiped him. Jesus goes out to find the man—the man who was exiled
because of Jesus’ unsolicited healing—and when he finds him, he reveals his
identity to the man (just as he had done to Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman
at the well), and John tells us “he worshipped [Jesus].” The man recognized
there was something more, something greater behind his renewed sight; there was
the gift to see what even those who’ve had 20/20 vision their entire lives were
unable to see—the presence of God.
In verse 39 Jesus said, "I came into this world for judgment so that those
who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind." Then,
in verse 40: Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him,
"Surely we are not blind, are we?" And Jesus said to them, "If you
were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,' your sin
remains.” Just as in the nighttime visit with Nicodemus and the midday
conversation with the Samaritan woman by the well, Jesus has used a real,
temporal metaphor to expose the mysterious, eternal ways of God. Like birth and
water, sight is something many of us take for granted, and when we hear Jesus’
words about being born again from above, words about living water, or words
about receiving sight we just assume that we’ve figured it out, that we’ve got
it down pat because we’ve been in places like this our whole lives, or because
we’ve memorized a few cherry-picked verses of Scripture, or because we have
power, influence, and authority in our community, in our church, or both. We
can hear Jesus’ words with the ears of the Pharisees and think, "Surely
we are not blind, are we?" Surely Jesus isn’t talking to me;
surely Jesus is talking to all of “those”
people (and you all know who “those” people are in your lives), but then Jesus
does what Jesus does best: he strips away our arrogance and our pride and makes
us face the truth, just as he did to those Pharisees: "If you were blind, you
would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,' your sin remains.”
If we think we’re “out of the woods,” if we think we’ve figured it all
out, if we think that we’re the ones with every answer and everyone else needs
to get on board with us…then Jesus’ words are sharply pointed directly at us.
You see, it all started with a question, one, simple, little question, and
Jesus quickly shows us that there aren’t always simple answers to our
questions, that the universe is filled with the deep mystery of who God is, and
that Jesus is calling us to follow him into that mystery, to leave behind our
assumptions and our absolutes, to be totally dependent upon the God who gives
sight to the blind, water to the thirsty, and new life to all who seek it.
Perhaps you’ve come to this place this morning with your own questions.
Perhaps you’ve come hoping for answers. I hope rather than finding answers,
you’ve found something more, something more mysterious, something that requires
more than a boiled-down theological proclamation. Maybe you’ve found more
questions, questions that will provoke more questions and a desire for a deeper
relationship with God. Perhaps you’ve come this way this morning with questions
and now realize that the answers you hoped to find are wonderfully small in the
presence of an all-loving God. And maybe you’re in this room this morning and
God is inviting you out of the darkness, out of your blindness, and into the
sight-giving light of the love of Jesus. May we all respond to the Light of the
World as it shines on us this day.
Let us pray…
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