“And His disciples asked Him: Rabbi,
who sinned, this man or his parents, that
he was born blind? Jesus answered:
It was not that this man sinned, or his parents;
but that the works of God might be made
manifest in him.” --John 9:2-3
When we wonder about suffering, whether in the world art
large or at our own particular “ill luck,” or insufficiency, we might want to
remember that the suffering isn’t our fault, and it isn’t the fault (or the
sin) of our parents. When some pain or
lack in our lives gets too hard to handle, we often seek someone to blame. We look for some kind of explanation; and it
often seems easiest to blame a person—make them the villain of our story. It feels like a curse has come upon us, and
someone has to be at fault; either we have brought this on our self, or someone
else is the cause. If we blame bad luck, or fate, or “the world,” then in
effect we are actually blaming God (whether we are using a big “G” a little
“g”). But, here in this little story, the
Lord seems to be telling us that what feels like a curse (or bad luck) may in
fact be a kind of blessing. Even better,
an opportunity for a blessing to be shared: for the “works of God to be made
manifest” through us.
In my personal Bible study, I am still reading through
the Psalms, and in my work Bible study group we are reading Isaiah, and now for Lent
I am rereading a wonderful book by the Orthodox writer Jim Forest, The
Ladder of the Beatitudes (Orbis Bks.1999). Which (in turn) sent me in search of John's gospel and this story about a man born blind.
(As the psalmist says: “All doers
of evil are scattered…” –and boy am I!)
Anyway, as part of his introduction, Forest devotes a brief chapter to this story from John 9 about a man born blind. And because it seems to have nothing to do with the beatitudes, I almost skipped right over it. I was too eager to get to the whole "tofu
and potatoes" of the poverty and mourning and all that "blessed are" stuff… What does this
blind guy have to do with beatitudes, anyway?
Aside: Let
me back up a moment here. Some people
are of the opinion that reading is a linear act… i.e. page 1 is followed by
page 2 and then 3 and then 4 and so on until the end is reached (or the book is
lost on a bus –whichever comes first).
But I (being a librarian) am a professional and have never felt constrained
by things like page numbers and chapter order or plot progression. To my family’s chagrin and frustration (I
fear), I often will begin a book somewhere near the middle and read for several
pages (or chapters) before going back and picking up pieces of the earlier action
(at random). It is possible this odd
habit of reading a book as if it were a cubist painting is a form of literary dementia,
or simply a sign of intellectual instability… Nevertheless, it is true, and I
thought I should confess it.
Back to the story at hand:
Instead of skipping the chapter, for some reason I kept reading; and as
I did, I had that wonderful exhilarating sense that something of great import was
being said; a truth revealed. Near the
end of his brief chapter, Mr. Forest takes a moment to put himself in the place
of the blind man. He imagines sitting in
darkness and hearing people talking; they are asking someone questions (about
him!). Whose fault it is that he was born blind (him or his parents)? And with
some curiosity, he listens to hear what will be said. But what he hears catches him off guard. It
is someone speaking not about fault or sin or blame, but about making the works
of the Lord visible. Forest imagines the
blind man’s confusion; how can his blindness have anything to do with the glory
of God? But then something happens. The voice comes near and a man puts wet clay
on his eyes and tells him to go wash it off.
And when he does, suddenly it is true; the work of God is made manifest in
all His glory.
And that is when I started thinking back to that discussion I
was having with my wife the other day. Driving home from work, we were trying
to remember all the beatitudes, and wondering what Jesus actually meant by
these paradoxical teachings; and how we (personally) might find a blessing in
each of them.
Blessed
are the poor in spirit, blessed are they who mourn, blessed are the meek,
blessed those who hunger and thirst for righteousness… blessed are the
persecuted…
And we struggled. How
can one find a blessing in poverty? Where is the blessedness in mourning? How
does one find good in being persecuted? To be concrete, how is homelessness a blessing?
In the moment, in the experience of it, they all feel like crushing weights,
disasters even. Yet, Jesus tells His
apostles that the blindness of this man isn’t a punishment or a disaster, but
an opportunity for the work of God to be made known. Thinking about this, I realize that I too was
blind. I was getting to wrapped up in the
darkness of my own anxieties (and habits) to see the truth; I was too busy blindly
searching for the “right answer,” to let God’s work be made manifest. Yet, something stopped my heedless rush, someone
slowed me down with a little simple discussion of a seemingly unrelated passage
from a different gospel (simple as dirt and spit) and opened my eyes: the
beatitudes are not just about us, or about our comfort, they are about making
the glory of God manifest to the world. They are about creating opportunities
for God’s presence to be revealed. And
where does Jesus promise He will always be: in the hungry, in the naked, in the
prisoners (the persecuted)…
Take a moment and read John 9, you can read the whole
chapter in less than 5 minutes. Then open
Matthew and read the Beatitudes (5:3-12), and spend a little time praying over
it with that blind man in mind. (And maybe pick up a copy of Jim Forest's book.) Anyway, that will be part of my Lenten prayer this year
and if I am lucky, I may begin to see my life in a whole new light.
Anyway, that’s my plan. This Lent, I will be contemplating
the beatitudes with the help of Jim Forest.
And my hope is that I can learn something about the blessing of poverty,
or mourning, of hunger and thirst, of mercy and peace or… perhaps, I will wait
a while to ask for that other one…
Lord,
Let me not be blind to Your presence in all
those who hunger, in all who mourn, in all who
feel persecuted, belittled or forgotten. Open my eyes
to Your glory, Your grace, Your love made manifest
in the needs of others. Stir my heart, that I may greet
all those in need with generosity with love and humility.
Amen
