healing

Blindness, Viruses, Sins, and Grace

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.


I thought it was comical that the lectionary (the assigned list of weekly readings for worship) worked out to have a “healing miracle” on tap for the second week of our world-wide COVID-19 pandemic. It’s not surprising, really, but comical. It’s not surprising, because there are lots of healing stories in scripture to choose from. There’s this one, from John’s gospel, where Jesus spits in the dirt, makes a mud pie and uses it to give this guy – who’d been blind his whole life – his eyesight back.

And there’s the one where he heals a little girl. There’s the one where he heals Peter’s mother-in-law, who’s in bed with a fever. There’s the one where he casts out the demon from that guy in the synagogue. There’s the woman who had been hemorrhaging for 12 years, the one about the leper who’s made clean, and the one about the lame guy who gets up from his mat and walks again. And there are others.

But, when I think about all of that, I wonder, too, about all those people – in Jesus’ day and in ours, especially at times like this – who never get healed: the demon that never leaves; the fever that never breaks; the blindness that never goes away; the leprosy, the deafness, this damned virus, for crying out loud.

Which is why, I have to say, right out of the gate, that I think Jesus is up to something much more profound than giving this blind man his sight back. So if you hear this Gospel reading at a time when the world is running scared from the pandemic that currently plagues us, and expect me to suggest we make a mud-pie, rub some dirt on it, say a prayer, and wait for a miracle, I’m not your guy. (I think there’s a church in Louisiana open for business today, selling miracles, if that’s your thing.)

And don’t get me wrong. We should pray our hearts out. We should believe that the power of God can do some miraculous, amazing things. And we should also do what the scientists, doctors, and nurses tell us to do. We should employ and empower the full force of our common sense and our common humanity and we should take our medicines. We should follow doctors’ orders. We should wash our hands. We should keep our distance. And we should trust and hope and pray that God can work a miracle through all of this if God chooses to do that.

But, again, I think Jesus is up to something even more profound and hopeful than that this morning.

But we miss it sometimes, because, just like the Pharisees, we get caught up in the “who, what, how, when and where” of what Jesus did for this blind man and we ignore – or we 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 man himself, perhaps, that meant he was sinful in some way. And we know, medical science back in the day wasn’t what it is for us now. When someone was sick or flawed or broken or a-typical or differently-abled in some way – whether it was leprosy, leukemia or whatever it is that makes a lame person unable to walk – their ailment was understood to be proof that they were being judged by God and punished for their sinfulness, whether they could name those sins or not.

You can hear it in the disciples’ question to Jesus, even before the healing occurs: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?” (Apparently, your physical diseases could also be the result of someone else’s sins, not just your own. What a racket!) But Jesus doesn’t break out the medical books or unroll the scientific scrolls or give the blind man an eye exam, either. Because he knows better. He says, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”

And then Jesus gets to the business of doing “God’s work.” And if “miracle” means supernatural, irrational, unexpected, unexplainable – or something like that – here… to me… is where the real miracle of this morning’s Gospel occurs. Jesus pulls that stunt with the mud and the spit, yes. But what he accomplishes in the process – the miracle, here – is to restore this poor soul to his family and to his community and to his God in way no one thought possible.

And the miracle of what God accomplishes through Jesus, not just for the blind man on the roadside that day, but for every one of us – and our neighbors out there in the world, too – is that God forgives sins and gives us eternal life, in spite of them.

Because, what the disciples, the Pharisees, the blind man and his family, friends and neighbors were meant to witness that day wasn’t just a 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 fire his guide dog or read the last line on the chart for the ophthalmologist. The real miracle and true joy for the blind man who received his sight was that God transformed what had been considered sinful, into forgiveness; God turned judgment into freedom; God made what was thought to be broken, whole; God made one who was unworthy to the world around him, worthy… and loved… and liberated… and allowed into the Kingdom, just like the rest of them.

And that’s a miracle. And it’s our miracle, just the same. 

The miracle of Jesus Christ is that God’s grace is big enough for the whole lot of us – sick, sinful, broken and needy as we can be. That which the world can’t overlook, God forgives. That which the world calls worthless, God claims and cherishes. That which the world considers to be unlovable, God loves. That which the world nails to a cross, God raises from the dead. That which the world calls a sin, sometimes, God declares otherwise. Did you hear that? THAT WHICH THE WORLD CALLS A SIN, SOMETIMES, GOD DECLARES OTHERWISE. (Do you know anyone who needs to hear that little bit of good news today?)

See, God’s greatest gift – God’s most amazing miracle – comes in the healing of our souls and in the salvation of our spirits. No matter what happens to our bodies – to our lives, in this life and in the world as we know it – Jesus’ healing reminds us that none of it will last forever; not this virus, not that cancer, not that addiction, not any of it.

Jesus’ ultimate healing comes in the promise and in the realization that mercy and love; forgiveness and grace; resurrection and new life overpower whatever threatens us; whatever pains us; whatever scares us or even ends our lives in this world.

And this is how we are truly healed. This is how we are actually made whole, even in the midst of so much sickness that surrounds and threatens and scares us silly too much of the time. This is how we are made well… through an everlasting, unconditional, undeserved love that flows from the cross, that flows through the tomb that flows into our lives – for our sake, for the sake of this sick and broken, hurting world, and into God’s kingdom that is sure to come.

Amen

Bootstraps, Baptismal Waters and Being Made Well

John 5:1-9

After this, there was a festival of the Jews and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

Now in Jerusalem, there is a pool by the Sheep Gate that is called, in Hebrew, Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids – blind, lame and paralyzed. One man who was there had been ill for 38 years. When Jesus saw that he was ill and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you wish to be made well?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to lower me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and when I try to make my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take up your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, he took up his mat and he began to walk. Now that day was a Sabbath.


I had a new, less-than-charitable thought about Jesus when I read this Gospel this time around. Let me explain.

There’s this gaggle of sick, hurting, broken people gathered around these healing pools near the gate by the Temple entrance in Jerusalem. And they are literally waiting for a miracle. See, the lore, legend and tradition about those pools and porticoes suggested – that an angel of God was what stirred up the waters from time to time – and that to be healed by their mysterious power you had to be among the first into the mix once that happened. So there’s this guy who, for 38 years has been ill, unable to walk on his own, and who has been trying for who knows how many of those years to reach the water at just the right time to be relieved of his disease.

And when Jesus sees him there he asks him, “Do you want to be made well?” Maybe Jesus was just being polite. Maybe he was giving him some ownership over what was going to happen next. Maybe he didn’t want to be presumptuous. But what a strange, silly, cynical question, really. “Do you want to be made well?”

Surely this guy wasn’t happy being sick and unable to walk. Surely he wasn’t just enjoying the show – watching all those other sick people receive their miracle. Surely he was there because he wanted to be healed right along with the rest of them.

So I heard Jesus’ question this time around as a little insensitive… a little judgmental… a little presumptuous in all the wrong ways. And I saw myself asking that question, too.

“Do you want to be made well?” I think I ask that question in all the wrong ways myself a lot of the time. Maybe you do to.

When someone is struggling in some way, don’t we assume they would, could, should just pull themselves up by their boot straps and make things right? Don’t we assume, too often, that a person who’s homeless must have done something – or not done enough – to end up in that predicament? When someone’s in prison, don’t we assume they’re guilty or less than or that they chose and deserve the fate that’s befallen them? When someone’s addicted don’t we think they just need to make better choices? Gain some will power? Pray more or harder or better?

That’s the kind of thing I heard in Jesus’ question this time around…to the sick man lying helpless by the pool. “Do you want to be made well?”

And I feel that sick man – broken and hurting and desperate to find help wherever he can get it – trying not to roll his eyes and write off this jerk who seems just like all the rest of them. And I hear that sick man respond with as much respect as he can muster, because he’s just that desperate, as he explains himself saying something like, “Sir, I’m not well enough or fast enough or lucky enough to get into that water when it moves and no one around here will help me. All these people are just looking out for themselves… or they aren’t as sick as me… or they have someone else to help them. Of course I want to be made well. I just can’t do this on my own.”

And I wonder if this might be one of those moments in Scripture – and there are others – where Jesus learns a new thing and changes his tune; where he hears this man, fully; where he sees this man in all of his brokenness and suffering and desperate need in a way he hadn’t at first. Jesus was as human as the rest of, remember. And you and I do this all the time.

We forget or deny that bad things happen to good people – that the sun rises on the evil and on the good, and that rain falls on the righteous and on the unrighteous, just the same – as Scripture tells us. And I think we forget or deny or ignore the injustice around us in an attempt to make sense of things that don’t make sense; to justify what cannot be justified; to pretend we have more control over or power over or influence over our lives than is possible or true a lot of the time. And I think we project that kind of judgement onto others because it’s a great way to justify our lack of help; our lack of compassion; our self-righteousness; our “thoughts and prayers” as a suitable measure of response to the suffering around us, when we know there’s more to be done – and more we could do.

We forget or deny that people are arrested and convicted and sentenced to prison unfairly and for crimes they never committed – and it happens to people of color at significantly higher rates than it does to people who look like me. (“Do you want to be made well? Do you want to be better? Do you want to do better?” “Yes, but the system is stacked against me,” they might say, “and I have no one to help me into the water.”)

We forget or deny that poverty is inherited – and it’s a cycle – for so many people who didn’t do anything to “deserve” their misfortune any more than I – and most of us here – have done as much as we pretend to earn or maintain the good fortune or status or the middle-class starting block from which we began our life’s journey. (“Do you want to be made well? Do you want to be better? Do you want to do better?” “Yes, but these people keep stepping ahead of me before I can get where I’m trying to go.”)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about hard work and bootstraps. But I’m also very clear about the grace and good fortune I’ve enjoyed in my life. And today I want to learn from Jesus about what it means to break the rules and buck the system for the sake of that kind of grace in a world that doesn’t always play by the same rules everybody.

See, so much of this Gospel’s point is found in those last six words. “Now that day was a Sabbath.” It matters that that day was a Sabbath day, because work wasn’t to be done on the Sabbath – the high, holy day of rest for God’s Chosen Ones. The Sabbath was for worship, rest, reverence and nothing more. Carrying anything – like a mat, for instance – was against the rules. So it’s no small thing that Jesus tells the sick man to pick up his man. And, healing in an emergency was allowed on the Sabbath, but curing a chronic disease that could be cured before or after a Sabbath was a no-no.

So Jesus shows up in just the right place – Jerusalem, at the healing pools by the Sheep Gate; at just the right time – during the Jewish festival and on the Sabbath, and he ignores the law, he breaks the rules, he heals this man who had been sick for 38 years – crippled, ignored, overlooked and stepped over.

And I think that’s our challenge and invitation, too, as believers and followers of Christ in the world these days. To choose, to work for, and to extend grace as often as we can. To acknowledge the brokenness around us and the blessings we enjoy and to do something about the disparity between the two. To not be played for fools – but to stop pretending that others would choose or deserve their misfortune any more than we deserve the abundance we enjoy.

And when I think about Maddy Brown, who will confirm her faith this morning, I think about the waters of baptism she shares with the rest of us and about how those waters are meant to stir us up – and to be stirred up – not by some mysterious, miraculous angel like the water in those pools and porticoes back in the Jerusalem of Jesus’ day; but stirred up like the waters of baptism that bring the promise of healing and hope, grace and goodness for all people.

These waters are meant to be stirred up, even if that means breaking some rules to do it; stirred up, by the likes of the baptized; stirred up, by you and me; stirred up, for the sake of those who can’t… stirred up in the name of Jesus who can, and who does…at all costs, for the sake of the world.

Amen