Thursday, April 7, 2011

Sermon, Lent 4: John 9:1-41



John 9:1-41



In today’s gospel lesson we hear of a miraculous healing, a miraculous healing which testifies to the divinity of Christ.  Through this healing, this gift of giving a man born blind from birth his sight, Jesus shows us exactly who he is.  There are other miracles like this in scripture, which stand as testimony, as proof, if you will, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.
            This is important, but if we look at the story of Jesus and this blind man only from the perspective of a miraculous physical healing, we might miss its deeper significance of this story. For it speaks fundamentally to the mission of Christ—a mission to which the religious authorities of first century Judea were blind to, a mission which  all of us, in our own ways, can be blind to.
            The main theme of the story we read today is  the healing of blindness., and it is not the physical blindness of the poor man which is most relevant to us today, but the spiritual blindness which pervades, runs through the story.
            It begins in the hearts of the disciples, the ones who have walked with Jesus. We might not tend to think that they, in their own way are blind, and they did not think so, either. But they do demonstrate a kind of blindness with their question about the man: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
            They ask the question as if the man were not even there.
Just imagine how that would have made him feel. Imagine being a person with a disability sitting on a park bench, and suddenly a group of men comes over. They stand near you. One of them points at you while he asks another question about the role your or your parents sinfulness may have played in your disability.
How would that make you feel? Most folks would find this to be a dehumanizing experience to say the least.
But this happens all the time. It happens whenever we speak about people in the abstract or as objects. It happens whenever human beings are spoken about or regarded as less than human.—even with good intentions 
Some of you may have seen the movie ‘Patch Adams” which details the real life story of a doctor who cut against the grain of what the medical establishment was teaching in the United States at the time. The domninant philosophy was that physicians were to maintain a psychological distance from their patients. That to be a good doctor was to be a good technician, and to view meical practice through the lens of cold objectivity.  And there is a scene in the movie where Pacth and his younger colleagues are taken on rounds through the hospital. There instuctor takes them to various rooms and discusses the conditions of patients, he offers explanations and invites questions.  And all of this interesting scientific inquiryoccurs as if the person under discussion where not even there. The patient looks noticibly frightened by all of this Patch himself visibly distressed  asks the patient what her name is. The person responds with a smile—humanity has intruded into what has been a dehumanizing experience.
A few years ago a Jewish theologian by the name of Martin Buber wrote a book titled, I and Thou. In it he analyizes this tendency to regard others from an “I-it” perspective. Whenever others become mere objects to whom I relate, I am not fully engaged with their humanity. This is an “I-it relationship.”  It is a fundamental fact of the human condition that we relate to others in an “I-it” way. We see this very clearly in the patch Adams example. The person under examination isn’t so much a human being as she was a patient, an object of scientific scrutiny. But we were not created to live in “I-it realtionships”. We were created to live in “I-thou” realtionships in which the humanity of the other person is fully recognized and engaged. “Love your neighbour” as yourself. The second of Jesus’ great commandments brings this truth into sharp awareness and makes us aware of how far we have strayed from God’s intention.
In today’s reading Jesus will not  stand back and engage  a mere theological and intellectual discussion.  Jesus gives the disciples an answer. The man’s blindness has nothing to do with sin—neither his nor his parents.  God will show his glory through this man. God’s healing work will be manifested.
Then Jesus heals the man. Jesus enters the situation and condition of the blind man’s life. Jesus the Great physician will heal as only Jesus can.
And when Jesus heals the man, our attention is drawn to what follows, what happens next.
But let us not overlook one very important, one centrally important aspect of the healing.  It is very tempting to only look at the giving of  physical sight as a manifestation of God’s glory—which it most certainly was.  But it wasn’t the only one. The lesson that the disciples were taught, the Pharisees were taught, and we are taught, is that the blind man was worth healing in the first place. He was worth it. He was worth it because he wasn’t a mere object,  a blind man, or a beggar, or whatever category  he was slotted into. He was worth it, because he was a human being made in God’s image. He was made in God’s image and was worth healing.
All human beings are worth it, because all human beings are made in the image of God. You are worth it.
 In God’s view there is no such thing as a “nobody”.  In fact, throughout the biblical narrative, God has a tendency to choose those whom society would overlook. We read about that today in 1 Samuel. God did not choose the fittest, largest or strongest of Jesse’s sons to be the king of Israel. He chose David, the smallest, the youngest. He chose David, knowing full well that David would sin against him, that David’s kingship while glorious and mighty, would also be flawed in some very important aspects.
 But how easy it is to forget the very simple, yet profound spiritual truth that God loves all whom he created—how easily this simple truth is forgotten as humans are categorized into desirables and undesirables. For most of humanity’s history people with disabilities were seen in most cultures as being somehow flawed. They need to be set aside. They belong somewhere else, out of view.
By putting the disabled conveniently out of view, reveals the blindness of society. The blindness of the disciples is revealed and exposed in the story by Jesus’ radical engagement with the blind man in a “I-thou” relationship as opposed to the disciples “I-it” approach.
Through this healing action Jesus reveals the spiritual blindness of all who would presume to judge others—or see others as “its”.  All people are worth it, and the blind man was most certainly worth it. All people are worth healing, and that is what Jesus came into the world to do—to heal a broken and hurting world.
But the religious authorities of the day—the Pharisees did not see this. They did not see this because, they, too were blind. They were blinded by their interpretation of the religious Law. The Torah, the book of Laws for the Jewish people forbid healing on the Sabbath. As this rule was interpreted, this meant that life-saving measures could be taken. 911 calls were permitted. But chronic conditions, which were not emergencies could not. In other words,  the emergency ward was open, but the GPs office was closed.
Some of the Pharisees in today’s lesson obviously interpreted Jesus healing the blind man as elective surgery, and therefore in violation of the Law. Jesus was therefore seen as a sinner. But others objected to this interpretation. "How could a man who performed such a miraculous healing possibly be a sinner,?" they asked.
Others denied that such a miracle occurred in the first place, and conducted an investigation, questioning the formerly blind man’s parents. Eventually the debate narrowed down to the witness of the blind man himself. 
And notice what he says says and what he doesn’t say. He doesn’t talk about the Law. He doesn’t talk about theological interpretation. He makes a simple, yet profound assertion: “Whether he is a sinner or not,” said the man, “ I do not know. One thing I do know. I used to be blind and now I see.” But even this plain testimony does not convince the Pharisees, who cannot see past tradition and interpretation, and a rigid understanding of the religious Law. And so they are truly blind, blind to the healing work of Christ in the world.
The blind man is no longer blind. He can see physically and he can see spiritually. He can see because he accepts the great gift of healing which Jesus has given him. He accepts the gift of God’s work on his life.  He isn’t blinded by thickly built up understandings and interpretations.
His faith in Jesus is simple, and it is based on God’s healing work in his life.  When Jesus upholds the faith of children, this is what he speaks about—a simple acceptance of God’s goodness and gifts. There was a book written a few years ago, called “Everything a needed to know I learnt in Kingerdarden”. There ought to be a Christian version of that titled, “ Everything I needed to know about God, I learned in Sunday School.”  And the central lesson of Sunday school is “Jesus loves you”. Everything else we learn on top of that is an expansion of that basic proclamation. What we learn in confirmation, in bible study, in seminary is an examination of God’s love through Jesus and what that means for us.  All sermons are basically the same. All sermons, if they are sermons proclaim the Gospel—the good news of God’s forgiveness and healing.
Doctrine and Dogma are important. Doctrine and Dogma guide and inform, and tell us when we are straying off course in our interpretations. Doctrine and Dogma are therefore tremendous gifts. But in the hands of sinful people, their purpose and role can be distorted. They can form barriers where none should exist. Doctrines about God can become God and blind us to what God is really doing in the world. An elderly pastor I know openly confesses to having been blinded by doctrine. It happened on the praries many years ago. A woman who was suffering with terminal illness came to him, and asked him if he would preside at her funeral. The first question he asked her was if she was baptized. She replied that she was not. He asserted that he could not perform the funeral unless she was baptized. After he said this she left his office in tears. He never heard from her again. He recalls that as his biggest mistake. If he were to go back and have that meeting again, he would have not asked that question. He would have simply listened to her and proclaimed the love and healing of Jesus to her. He was blind but now he sees.
Many people ask the question, “Where is God?” “Where is Jesus?”  “What is God doing in the world?”
It is easy to be blind to the very obvious presence of God in the world and in our lives. It is so easy to be blinded by our own definitions of god, blinded by the conditions we place upon god, blinded by our own sinful aspiration to divinity to miss the real presence of God.
It can be especially difficult for people in the midst of grief to see the work of a loving God. Heartache and numbness can fill our vision. The darkness of death and loss is blinding. But, God’s word illumines the path. God’s Word lights the way with proclamation of eternal promise. Today we heard Psalm 23. It is the most popular of Psalms to be read at funerals and for good reason; for it speaks of God as the great shepherd who guides his sheep through lands of darkness and uncertainty. We may not know where we are going, at times, but God has given us vision—his vision. This kind of vision of ultimate hope and promise is tremendously healing.  It can come in many ways. God has many means to communicate love. Maybe its through the reassurance of a friend, maybe its time spent with family, or the good feeling that comes through a random act of kindness expressed toward another. Maybe its in that still quiet moment on a long walk. Wherever it may come, the vision of God’s love will push back the blinding darkness.
But here are special way, God’s guiding light shines into our lives. God’s word of life speaks to us  and guides us wherever it is proclaimed in truth. And the church has been given a precious gift in the sacraments. Baptism and Communion are not symbols of Christ, they are Christ, physical, and with us. 
It is very sad that many people feel themselves unworthy to receive these most precious gifts. And I ask those folks: Do you have to be well before you receive medicine. No: it is the medicine which makes us well.
Today’s gospel lesson speaks profoundly to Christ’s mission to the world. It is a healing mission. Not only physical healing. It goes deeper than that. It is  a fundamental spiritual healing—healing of our brokenness.  It is a healing which restores wholeness. It is a healing which allows us  to awake and know that God has done something tremendous in our lives, a healing which tells us that our lives are filled with ultimate meaning and purpose, a healing which allows us to know that despite what has come before in our lives, we are wholly loved by God, a healing which allows us to know that we are worth it. It is a healing which allows us to look out into the world and see the world as Christ sees it.  As we continue along the path of our Lenten Journey, let us give thanks for the great gift of Christ’s vision, of Christ’s light, of Christ’s healing. Now may the peace which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.