Love is Not Blind

John 9:1-41

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 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.” 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, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. 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?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” 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.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. 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.” 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. 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.”

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 and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; 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.” 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. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

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.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” 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?” Then they reviled him, saying, “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.” The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

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 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.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”

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I’m not proud of it, but I binge-watched two-and-a-half seasons of the Netflix reality show “Love is Blind” over the course of two or three days, following my emergency gall bladder surgery in September. Again, I’m not proud. I confess. I repent. And I blame the pain meds.

The premise of this waste of time is that men and women go on literal blind dates, where they spend a period of time dating one another behind walls and closed doors, in private rooms. They sit in pods and have all manner of discussion about all manner of things and decide without ever seeing each other, that they are in love, or not. During all of this, the men live in one shared space and the women in another. So, there’s competition and gossip and lies and drama. Eventually, there are marriage proposals and then face-to-face meetings those who get engaged. Then the lucky, newly-engaged couples travel together for a group romantic getaway where there is lots of sunshine, beaches, swimsuits, hot tubs, and the like. And more competition, in-fighting, gossip, lies, and drama, of course.

All of this is build-up to each couple’s potential wedding day, the outcome of which is never known by anyone, for certain, until they reach the altar, dressed in tuxedos, wedding gowns and before very real pastors, priests, rabbis, and justices of the peace – according to their faith tradition, or lack thereof. Neither the viewer, nor the potential brides or the prospective grooms or their families, know for sure … until the very last moment … if the betrothed are going to say “I do.” Of course, the drama really comes when one of the two says “No” or “I Can’t” or “I Don’t” to their partner’s hopeful expression of love and commitment.

It’s terrible – once the meds wore off, the pain was gone, and I was on the mend, I didn’t even bother to finish that third season. It’s one of the many signs of the decline of western civilization, I’m sure. It’s one of many reasons, I suspect, that, if there is intelligent life on other planets, they’ve decidedly NOT bothered to make contact. All of this is mostly confession and repentance, but I’ll come back to it – however briefly – in a minute.

But first, this miracle story, which is a doozy … and a well-known one at that … the spit, the dirt, the mud pie – and this guy who’d been blind his whole life – who gets his eyesight back. And there are so many others … miracle stories, I mean, in Scripture: the little girl who gets up from a death-bed nap; Simon Peter’s mother-in-law, whose fever breaks; the demons who leave from that guy in the synagogue; the woman who had been hemorrhaging for years, the leper who’s made clean, and so on.

And you can’t help but wonder about all those people – in Jesus’ day and in our own – whose healing never comes: the demon that never leaves; the fever that never breaks; the blindness that never goes away, the cancer, the diabetes, the dying that seem to win the day.

And because of all that – because so many of us go without the miracles we long for – I can’t help but believe Jesus’ willingness and ability to heal doesn’t have as much to do with ridding people or the world of sickness as much as we’d like to believe or pretend. Just like the Pharisees, we get caught up in the “who, what, how, when, and where” of what Jesus did for this blind guy and we ignore or don’t care so much about what Jesus tells us – right at the beginning of it all – about the WHY of what he had done that day.

This guy had been born blind, remember. And to his parents, to his neighbors, to the Pharisees, certainly, and even to the blind guy himself, that meant he was sinful in some way. As we know, medical science back in the day wasn’t what it is for us now – so many generations later. When someone was sick or even just different somehow – whether it was leprosy, leukemia or whatever it is that makes a lame person unable to walk – their difference was understood to be proof that they were being judged by God and punished, then, for some kind of sin.

You can hear it in the disciples’ question to Jesus, before the healing occurs: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?” (Apparently, on top of all the rest, your physical diseases and differences could also be the result of another person’s sins, as well as your own.) But Jesus doesn’t break out the medical books, give the man an eye exam, make a diagnosis, or chart a treatment plan. He says, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” (Not only does this imply that there’s nothing wrong with being blind, but it lets us know God was up to something more than just a magic trick.)

So, Jesus gets to the business of doing “God’s works,” by way of a little mud and some spit. And if “miracle” means supernatural, irrational, unexpected, unexplainable – or something like that – here is where the real miracle of this morning’s Gospel occurs. The miracle of what God accomplishes through Jesus, not just for the blind man on the roadside that day so many years ago, but for every one of us – and our neighbors out there in the world, too – isn’t so much that God cures blindness; it’s that the eyes of those who can already see are opened to a God who loves without measure and promises eternal life, on this side of Heaven.

What the disciples, the Pharisees, the blind man and his family, friends and neighbors were meant to witness that day wasn’t just a physical healing. The real joy for this man who once was blind but now could see, wasn’t that he could throw away his walking stick or go get a driver’s license. The real miracle and true joy for the blind man who received his sight was that God transformed what had been called Sin, into forgiveness; God turned judgment into freedom; God made what was supposedly broken, whole; God made one who was unworthy, worthy – and loved and liberated and allowed to experience the fullness of the Kingdom, just like the rest of his friends, family, neighbors.

And that’s supposed to be our miracle, too.

The miracle of Jesus Christ is that God’s grace is big enough for all people – and especially for the sick, sinful, broken, needy, or just plain DIFFERENT by the standards of the world. That’s miraculously good news for the gay or trans kids too many pretend are sinful or broken for being born a certain way. This is good news for Jewish people in our day and age, being targeted and terrorized – still and yet again – by a world that can’t appreciate their status as God’s children. This is the Gospel for anyone who faces bigotry, discrimination, exclusion, or injustice because they don’t measure up, fit the mold, or walk, talk, live, move, or breathe like the masses – or to the liking of the powers that be.

What the world calls unworthy, God claims and cherishes. What the world can’t overlook, God forgives. What the world considers unlovable, God loves. What the world nails to a cross, God raises from the dead.

The most amazing miracle is that God’s love is most decidedly NOT blind. God sees all of us from the inside out – the broken and the beautiful; the sinful and the sacred; the holy and the horrible – and God loves us, still … and always … and commands us to do the same for one another, in the name of Jesus. And it’s no small miracle when we get it right.

Amen

Look and Live

John 3:1-17

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews, who came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God because no one can do the signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said, “How can one be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

Jesus answered him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the Kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh and what is born of the Spirit is Spirit. Do not be astonished that I’ve said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?”

Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? Very truly I tell you, we speak about what we know and we testify to what we have seen and yet, you do not receive our testimony. If we speak to you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe when we tell you about heavenly things?

“No one has ascended to heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up a serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish, but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

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I heard about the shoes long before stepping foot into the Holocaust Exhibition yesterday in Cincinnati with the group of Cross of Gracers who made the trip there. Not only had I heard about the shoes, but I’d seen something similar at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. several years ago. In Cincinnati there were pictures and a couple of stories about individual shoes from murdered Jews. D.C.’s museum hosts an exhibit of actual shoes, though, piled several feet deep – hundreds of them – men’s shoes, women’s shoes, the tiny shoes of children – stacked, like bodies you might say, as a grisly reminder – not just of the number of lives destroyed by the Holocaust, but the very simple, profound, fairly universal symbol of humanity that was lost in those years.

What’s also sobering to realize is that there are museums and memorials around the world with equally large and disturbing piles of shoes of their own. Which makes sad, terrifying sense of course. More than six million murdered Jews leave behind plenty of shoes to go around. (And let us not forget the queer folk, the Roma people, those with disabilities, and thousands of others who were also murdered as part of Hitler’s Holocaust and Final Solution.)

Anyway, and of course, we also saw, yesterday, plenty of pictures, video footage, and so many living, personal testimonies about the horrors of that regime, and of those days, and of that sinful stain on humanity’s history. And they are difficult to see – sad, shameful, and scary – but necessary, to look at, in my opinion; as people of faith, as responsible citizens, as human beings on the planet, as children of God.

And, for so many reasons, I thought of these things when I thought about this morning’s Gospel.

See, when Jesus reminds Nicodemus about that time in Israel’s history when “Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,” he’s recalling that strange story from the book of Numbers when God’s people had lost faith and had been disobedient and doubtful of God, so that poisonous serpents showed up to bite them as punishment, so the story goes. When they realized the error of their ways and asked for help, Moses – at God’s direction – put a bronze serpent on a pole, and set it up so that God’s people could look at the serpent – like some sort of sacred, spiritual anti-venom – and be healed from the poisonous of those snakes that had plagued them. They were called to look back; to face their fear; to stare their struggle, their sadness, their sin – the source of their pain and punishment – in the eye – in order to be healed of it.

And isn’t that, a lot of the time, the very last thing we are inclined to do – get close to and look at the source of our struggle and sinfulness, I mean? Isn’t it hard and scary, sometimes, to look our fear, our shame, our guilt, and our greatest threat in the eye? Aren’t we pretty good at – if not inherently wired for – avoiding so many of the difficult, scary, broken parts of our lives and of our history, rather than face them, admit them, let alone engage and get close to them and expect good things to come of it?

And it’s no wonder, really. Our world is an unforgiving, judgmental, punishment- seeking, vengeance-hungry, score-keeping, death-dealing kind of place to live in. Admitting mistakes is bad for approval ratings – just ask a politician. Failure is to be avoided at all costs – just ask a student or a young athlete in your life. Admitting sin and seeking forgiveness feels like weakness – just look in the mirror.

But this is what I hear Jesus ask of us in this morning’s Gospel. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up” … on a pole… on a tree… on a cross for all the world to see, so that we might look at him, so that we might look to him for deliverance from that which we fear threatens us most – our greatest mistakes, our deepest guilt, our darkest shame, our unfathomable brokenness, our Sin – with a capital S – heaped upon God, in Jesus, and left to die on a cross.

And that’s the power – and the practical, holy importance – of museums and memorials that point to and remind us of our history, and that force us to look it straight in the eye, even when, especially when, it’s terrible and terrifying – like any Holocaust exhibit, like the Lynching Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama, like the Vietnam Wall, the 9/11 Museum, the Stonewall National Monument in Greenwich Village, New York.

These are hard, holy reminders of humanity’s capacity for inhumanity. But there is also warning and hope and potential for transformation when we dare to confront, study, learn from, and be changed by what we’ve done.

- I don’t know how anyone could spend 5 minutes in that Cincinnati exhibit and deny the atrocities of Hitler’s regime – but there are too many who still pretend it didn’t happen or that it wasn’t as bad as it was, and who refuse to believe what their eyes could see if they’d just look.

- After learning that some of the Nazi’s first sinister steps toward “Making Germany Great” included very deliberately “Germanizing” the names of towns, villages, and streets, I’ll think even harder every time I hear or see someone refer to “The Gulf of America” on a map.

- And when I hear about innocent US Citizens being unfairly, unjustly detained, imprisoned, and deported, I’ll remember the way that happened to innocent Japanese Americans once before, too, while we were simultaneously, ironically, fighting to liberate Jews from similar tyranny in the same damn war.

We need all the reminders and reality checks we can get, people. Because, as Maya Angelou used to say, something with which I believe Jesus would agree: “When you know better, you do better.”

That’s why yesterday – and all of this – is more than a history lesson for me. It’s an exercise of faith because these Lenten days are all about doing this work – looking back, acknowledging, admitting, confessing, repenting of our sins – working to change and be changed because of them – and extending mercy, grace and love to the world of God’s children as a result.

Because “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might have eternal life.” And because “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

It’s hard to look at what hurts, horrifies and threatens to kill us – at what has killed too many of us – and trust that, in doing so, we can be saved. But that’s Jesus’ invitation today, nonetheless… “to look and live” like those Israelites were commanded to do, way back when. To look at the Sin that has bitten us and that bites us, still. To see, repent for, and change all the ways we manage to break the heart of God; not avert our eyes, not run from, not pretend or deny the fullness of our Sin – and to not be fooled into believing God can’t redeem it, either.

And that’s why we look to the cross … so that we might stop hiding from the sins that hang there – all the things done, left undone, and yet to be done – so that we might look full in the face at our greatest shame and our deepest fears and into the threat of our own brokenness – into the face, even, of death – and to see God’s promised salvation in spite of it all.

Because when we see the whole of our SIN crucified and killed … then forgiven and raised to new life … it can’t bite, burden, or betray us any longer. And when we receive and accept the fullness of this grace, we can learn to walk in the shoes of our neighbor and live transformed lives in return – asking for forgiveness, extending mercy, and loving one another – wholly – the way we have already been loved, by God, in Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen