John 9
A little boy came home from school one day and asked, “Mom, where did I come from?”
After clearing her throat and gathering her wits, Mom launched into an elaborate description of human reproduction.
Jimmy listened politely, and when Mom was done, he said, “Oh, I was just wondering, because Susie comes from Pasadena and Johnny from Seattle.”
The disciples ask Jesus, “Who sinned?”
Was it his parents?
Was it something this man did while still in the womb?
Wonder how the blind man felt.
Hearing all this talk about sin … amazing, how easily we talk about someone’s suffering … “Oh, did you hear, Brent lost his job? Wonder what he did?”
“Susie’s getting a divorce. She should’ve never married that man.”
“Brad didn’t get into Stanford. He should’ve known better to even apply.”
We look at a homeless man on a bus bench, and silently scold him for being so lazy.
We look at the kid in jail and would love to sit him down for a good lecture.
How easily we talk about someone else’s suffering.
It’s their fault, isn’t it? We would never be so foolish, would we!
It’s called attribution theory:
If we find ourselves in a scrape, it’s not our fault – it’s that stupid boss of ours, that selfish spouse who doesn’t understand; it’s our children who drive us nuts; our parents who make life miserable; the teacher never gives me a break; my dog ate the homework, the devil made me do it, and the 405 was jammed.
Yet if we’re on the top of the game - well, it’s because we worked so hard … we studied the charts and made the right investments … we’re good at what we do; some people are born great, and I just ran harder than everyone else.
Attribution theory …
“Who sinned, this man or his parents?”
But Jesus couldn’t care less about such questions.
He doesn’t play the blame game.
He doesn’t find fault.
It’s not the cause; it’s the care!
When God visited Adam and Eve in the Garden at the time of the evening breeze, to have a mint julep with them – but when God learned how it all went south with sin, God didn’t muck around with causes and reasons … no scolding or moral grandstanding … just mercy.
Things changed, all right … the sweet became sour; the light dimmed – but the last moment before Adam and Eve leave the Garden, God becomes a tailor; God stitches durable clothing … it’s not the cause, but the care!
Speaking of Adam and Eve …
Little Johnny’s Sunday School class were learning how God created human beings.
Little Johnny was very intent when the teacher told him how Eve was created out of one of Adam's ribs.
Later in the week, his mother noticed him lying down as though he were ill, and asked, "Johnny, what’s the matter?"
Little Johnny responded, "I have a pain in my side. I think I'm going to have a wife."
Verlyn Klinkenborg writes about his horse, Ida … one day, Ida comes to the barn with a horrible neck wound – deep and frightening.
The vet is called … anxious moments … the vet arrives – finds a vein after a few tries, gives a sedative … Ida keeps her legs, but her head sags into Klinkenborg’s arms; later that night, his arms still shake from the strain.
The vet shaves the wound, flushes it … lots of stitches later, the wound is closed.
They searched the pasture for what might have caused the ugly would … but nothing could be found … “a mystery wound,” said the vet. “All too common” (New York Times, Feb. 19, 2008).
Who sinned, this man or his parents?
A mystery wound … all too common.
It’s not the cause that counts … it’s the care … the flushing of the wound; the stitches … the love and comfort … holding someone’s sagging heart … taking a hand and going for a beach walk … a cup of coffee when you don’t have the time; a long phone call when you’d just as soon go to bed … keeping Kleenix at hand because your friend will shed a lot of tears.
Jesus heals the man … he spits into the dust to make a poultice of mud …
What in the world is He doing?
Jesus is re-imaging the creation story … when God gathered up a fist full of dust and dirt and fashioned a little critter called human …
But there’s more to the story … this was the Sabbath Day … Sabbath work was forbidden … making the poultice, like kneading dough, that’s a no-no!
Jesus could’ve said the word, and the man would have been healed, but Jesus never misses a chance to tweak the noses of the know-it-alls.
He kneads the dirt like a ball of dough … and tells the man to go wash … and the know-it-alls launch an investigation.
If this were a film, it would be a Laurel and Hardy episode, Keystone cops and Harold Lloyd … falling all over each other to get the goods on Jesus.
As far as they’re concerned, Jesus is a sinner … pure, plain and simple …
He broke the law … that’s what counts …
As for that blind man – must be a mistake.
The parents are called in several times … “Ask our son” they say.
The man is called in and questioned again … joking with them, he says, “What, you want to become his disciples, too?”
They hurl insults at him …
Did they call him names?
Dodo?
Dumbbell?
Dimwit, dunce or dummy?
Did they insult his mother?
Your momma's so stupid, she ordered sushi well done.
Your momma’s so ugly, she made an onion cry.
Na nah na nah na naaah …
The man tries to tell his story … “one thing I know: I was blind but now I see. Only a man of God could have done this for me.”
“What do you know about God?”
“You’re steeped in sin.”
“How dare you lecture us.”
And they threw him out!
The Pharisees had their noses all out of joint because Jesus did it on a Sabbath Day …
Not the man … not the need.
Not the hurt … not the deed.
Just the day.
Majoring in minors.
Minoring in majors.
Been there, done that.
Haven’t you?
When our children were growing up, Donna and I’d get all upset about clothes strewn on the floor or dirt tracked into the house.
And ever so often, Donna and I would set ourselves down and give ourselves a good talking to … “Hey, these are great kids we have; let’s not lose sight of the big picture – we love them, and they love us, and things are just fine, and we can put up with the small things, because the big things are in great shape!”
The story line is simple: People count more than anything else.
The story asks a simple question: Who’s really blind here?
So many of the New Testament stories pose the same question: Who’s blind? Who can see?
A reminder to us who’ve spent years in the church … religion can be the cause of spiritual blindness!
“We have Moses,” they said! “We know the lay of the land; we know what’s up, but as for this Jesus fellow, we have no idea where he comes from.”
Now let’s be perfectly honest … let’s rewrite the script …
“I’m a pastor; I’ve got a doctorate. I was born in a Christian family; reared in the Reformed tradition – best schools, best teachers; I read Hebrew and Greek; I know the lay of the land.”
That, and 4 1/2 bucks gets me a double latte at the Coffee Beanery.
So where do you fit into the script?
“I’m an elder; I’ve been an elder four terms. I was born into a Presbyterian family; I’ve been a member here 50 years. I know that I know.”
I’ve been a Sunday School teacher … a Deacon, a choir member …
We’ve all been there … claiming the high ground of experience and knowledge … our pedigree, our seniority … the temptation of longevity … we know who’s in and we know who’s out … who’s been naughty and who’s been nice.
And we’ve all had to change our minds, haven’t we? But thank God for the ability to change our minds!
Every change of mind, we grow a little – boundaries pushed back; we see more clearly … the bigger picture – the man born blind: it’s not the cause; it’s the care!
The story is a reminder to pray for healing … our healing, the healing of our eyes …
Let this be our promise today:
I will take the time and make the effort to care!
I will have less of myself and more of God.
I will restrain my tendency to judge.
I will care for those with mystery wounds.
I will release God’s mercy.
I will have the eyes of Christ!
Amen!
