Celebration

Celebration

As he went 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?” “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

After saying this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. “Go,” he told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam” (this word means “Sent”). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, “Isn’t this the same man who used to sit and beg?” Some claimed that he was. Others said, “No, he only looks like him.” But he himself insisted, “I am the man.” “How then were your eyes opened?” they asked. He replied, “The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see.” “Where is this man?” they asked him. I don’t know,” he said.

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man’s eyes was a Sabbath. Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. “He put mud on my eyes,” the man replied, “and I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.” But others asked, “How can a sinner perform such signs?” So they were divided.

Then they turned again to the blind man, “What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” The man replied, “He is a prophet.” They still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man’s parents. “Is this your son?” they asked. “Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?” “We know he is our son,” the parents answered, “and we know he was born blind. But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself.”  His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who already had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. That was why his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

A second time they summoned the man who had been blind. “Give glory to God by telling the truth,” they said. “We know this man is a sinner.” He replied, “Whether he is a sinner or not, I don’t know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!” Then they asked him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered, “I have told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples too?” Then they hurled insults at him and said, “You are this fellow’s disciple! We are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don’t even know where he comes from.” The man answered, “Now that is remarkable! You don’t know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly person who does his will. Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” To this they replied, “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” And they threw him out.

John 9:1-34

The old guy on the corner hadn’t seen him, and the woman selling figs, cattycorner from the old guy, hadn’t seen him either. Jesus had even described him to the scribes at the gate and the kids in the courtyard. “He’s about this tall. Clothes are pretty ragged. Scraggily beard.” But no one had the foggiest idea who Jesus was looking for.

For the better part of the day, Jesus had been searching up and down the streets of Jerusalem. He hadn’t stopped for lunch; he didn’t even pause to take a break. The only time Jesus’ feet weren’t moving was when he was asking, “Pardon me, but have you seen that fellow who used to beg on the corner of Blind and Faith streets?” Finally, a boy gives him a lead. Jesus takes a back street toward the temple and spots the man sitting on a stump between two donkeys. Jesus approaches from behind and places a hand on his shoulder. “There you are!” I’ve been looking all over for you.” The fellow turns, and, for the first time, sees the one who let him see.

John introduces us to the man with these words: As he (Jesus) went along, he saw a man blind from birth.” In other words, this man had never seen a sunrise; he couldn’t tell black from white. The disciples fault the family tree. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
(vs. 2) Neither, the God-man replies.

Instead, trace his condition back to heaven. The reason the man was born sightless? So that “the works of God might be displayed in him.” (vs. 3) Selected to suffer. Wow, talk about a thankless role. Some sing to God’s glory. Others teach to God’s glory. But who wants to be blind for God’s glory? And what’s tougher – the condition, or the discovery that it was God’s idea in the first place?

Jesus spat on the ground, and the cure proved to be as surprising as the cause. “[Jesus] spit on the ground, made some mud with saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes.” (vs. 6) You know, there are thousands of depictions of Jesus: in the arms of Mary; in the Garden of Gethsemane; in the Upper Room; on the cross; in the darkened tomb. Jesus touching. Jesus weeping. Jesus laughing, teaching and loving. But I’ve never seen a picture of Jesus spitting.

Just picture it. Christ smacking his lips a time or two, gathering a mouth of saliva, working up a blob of drool, and letting it go. Down in the dirt. Then he squats, stirs up a puddle of … I don’t know. What would you call it? Holy putty? Spit therapy? Saliva solution? Whatever the name, he places a finger-full in his palm, and then, as calmly as a painter spackles a hole in the wall, Jesus streaks the mud-miracle on the blind man’s eyes. “Go … wash in the pool of Siloam,” he says. (vs. 7)

The beggar feels his way to the fountain, splashes water on his mud-streaked face and rubs away the clay. The result is the first chapter of Genesis, just for him. Light where there was darkness. Virgin eyes focus and fuzzy figures become human beings. For this, John receives the Understatement of the Bible Award when he writes: “he came home seeing.” (vs. 7). Come on, John! Running short on verbs are we? How ‘bout “he raced back seeing”? Or, “He danced back seeing’? Maybe, “He roared back whooping and hollering and kissing everything he could for the first time seeing”? The guy had to have been thrilled beyond words.

And we would love to leave him that way, too. But if this man’s life is like a cafeteria line, he’s just stepped away from the sirloin to saunter over to the lima beans. Look at the reaction of the neighbors. “‘Isn’t this the same man who used to sit and beg? Some claimed that he was. Others said, “No, he only looks like him.” But he himself insisted, “I am the man.” (vs. 9)

In other words, these folks don’t celebrate, they debate! They have watched this man grope and trip since he was a kid. (vs. 23) You’d think they’d be rejoicing. But they don’t. Instead, they march him down to church to have him kosher-tested. And when the Pharisees ask for an explanation, the was-blind beggar says: “He put mud on my eyes … and I washed, and now I see.” (vs. 15) Again, we pause for the applause, but all you hear are crickets. No recognition. No celebration. Apparently, Jesus had failed to consult the healing handbook. “Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man’s eyes was a Sabbath …. Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.” (vs. 14, 16)

Won’t anyone celebrate with this guy? The neighbors didn’t. The preachers didn’t. Oh, but wait; here come the parents. Surely they’ll be happy for their sight-given son. But the reaction of the former blind man’s parents is even worse. They called the parents of the very one who had received his sight, and questioned them saying, “Is this your son?” “Is this the one you say was born blind?” “How is it that now he can see?”

His parents answered and said, “We know he is our son … and we know he was born blind. But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders, who already had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue.  (vs. 19-22). How can they do this? Granted, to be kicked out of church was serious. But refusing to help your child? Isn’t that even worse?

The truth is, no one “saw” him. And you have to ask yourself the question, “So, who was really blind that day?” The neighbors didn’t see the man; they saw a novelty. The church leaders didn’t see the man; they saw a technicality. The parents didn’t see their son, they saw a social difficulty. In the end, no one saw him. So, “they threw him out.” (vs. 34)

And now, here he is, on a back street in Jerusalem. The poor guy has got to be absolutely bewildered. Born blind only to be healed. Healed only to be kicked out. Kicked out only to be left alone. From the peak of Mt. Whitney to the heat of the Mojave, all in one Sabbath. And making matters worse, he can’t even beg anymore. How would that feel?

Maybe you know someone like that. A couple who’s buried a daughter; a single mother raising an autistic son; a neighbor with cancer whose health record is as thick as a phone book. Do some people seem to be dealt more than their share of bad hands? Have you? If so, Jesus knows. He knows how they feel, and he knows where they are. “Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and … he found him ….” (vs. 35)

In case the virgin birth wasn’t enough. Or, if three decades of earth walking and miracle working are insufficient. Or, if there’s any doubt regarding God’s complete and utter devotion to his creation, he does stuff like this. He tracks down a troubled pauper. And the beggar lifts his eyes to look into the face of the one who started it all. Is he going to criticize Christ? Complain? I guess you couldn’t blame him for doing both. After all, he didn’t volunteer for the disease or the deliverance, for that matter. But he does neither. No, instead “he worshiped him.”(vs. 38)

And when you see him, you will, too. Just as he came for the blind man, Jesus is coming for you. The hand that touched the blind man’s shoulder will touch your cheeks. The face that changed his life can change yours, too.

That’s cause for celebration.

Grace,

Randy