“Earth in Eyes”
John 9
March 2, 2008

It has been suggested that the origins of denominations occurred when the healed blind men met each other. At first they were all excited about the miracle of sight that Jesus had given them, but as they talked about how Jesus had healed them, they began to discover some significant differences. For some, the healing came with simply a touch from Jesus (Mt 9:29 ; 20:34 ). Another proudly boasted that he had enough faith so that Jesus didn't have to touch him to perform the miracle (Mk 10:52 ). Another meekly exclaimed that Jesus not only touched him twice, but also "spit on his eyes" in order for him to see clearly (Mk 8:23 ). The final one really felt embarrassed to admit that even though a touch wasn't part of his healing, Jesus' "spit" wasn't enough. Jesus had mixed his saliva with dirt and put the mud on his eyes and then told him to go and wash in some pool of water (Jn 9:6-7 ). Since each one thought his healing was normal and better than the others, they divided into spittites and non-spittites; muddites and non-muddites; touchites and non-touchites. Denominationalism was born.

I wonder if this blind man, healed by Jesus, thought at any time, “Oh man, this is not worth it. If I were still blind, nobody would bother me.” John tells a wonderful story here, a very humorous story with much detail. Just think of all the blind man went through!

First he didn’t even ask to be healed. This stranger came along, spit in the earth and spread the mud over his eyes. Then he was told to go to a specific pool of water and wash it off. How was he supposed to get there? He was blind from birth! How far away was this pool? Which direction should he go?

Then after he managed to do all that, nobody believed his story. Nobody wanted him changed. Nobody celebrated his new sight. Nobody rejoiced in his healing. Hey where is that blind beggar-man we used to ignore? Bring him back! The poor guy, who now could see, was stumbling because he had no place to go, no welcome mat spread before him. He didn’t even know where the stranger was who had healed him.

Some folks dragged him before the religious leaders who grilled him about what had happened. This was the Sabbath. You’re not supposed to do anything on the Sabbath but sit around and be religious! Who did this? I don’t know. Was he a sinner? I don’t know. Well, what do you say about him? I guess he’s some kind of prophet.

Now the religious leaders were really mad. They talked to the parents of the man, who affirmed he was born blind. But even they didn’t seem to care that he had been healed. If they went against the religious leaders, even on behalf of their own son, they might be banned from church, ostracized by their neighbors.

Then the religious leaders tossed the man into a back room, shined bright lights into his new eyes, slapped him around a little bit, mentioned water-boarding as a possibility, and grilled him some more. But he held his own. The formerly blind beggar turned it back on his inquisitors. Hey, you claim to have all the answers. You tell me who he is. All I know is that once I was blind, but now I can see. That wouldn’t happen of God wasn’t in it, would it? And so they tossed him out on his ear. Who does he think he is? Doesn’t he know who we are?

Finally the stranger reappears. Perhaps Jesus should have apologized for healing him and putting him through all this turmoil. Perhaps the blind man should have punched him in the face and turned his back. Thanks a lot, Dude. But, that’s not what happened, is it?

So who are you in this story? Are you so sure of your faith that you know it all, with no room left for holy surprises? Do you hate change so much that you would prefer to stay blind, or at least that those who are in the gutter now for whatever reason would remember their place and stay there? Can you rejoice with others when their eyes are opened, even if they see differently than you do?

Or are you more like the healed man, content with life until something life-shattering comes along, forcing you to see everything in a new way, stripping you from your comfortable place and pushing you into a world that will challenge your every new step and your every new effort to bring sight to others, light into darkness, joy into despair?

After Jesus spits mud in our eyes, can we remain in “a world of separation; sorting out the guilty from the good, the chosen from the frozen, poring over these Scriptures to discern who’s in and who’s out.”  

Or will we create “a world of celebration; seeking out God’s realm in every moment of our living, the sad every bit as much as the glad; looking for, believing in, seeking ever to bring to light and nurture that image of God deep in the human heart that makes every single one of us” worthy to be called children of God and sisters and brothers of Jesus the Christ?

Poet Leonard Cohen puts it this way:

Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything.
That's where the light gets in.
That's where the light gets in....

Amen.