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Sermon – John 9.1-41, L4, YA, March 19, 2023

29 Monday May 2023

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We are in the midst of award season.  Just last weekend, the Oscars grabbed our attention with surprising wins and disappointing losses.  This week College Basketball’s March Madness has us riveted again, with expected wins, surprising upsets, and underdogs to encourage.  Despite the vested interest I may have in some of these “award” events, I find myself most drawn to the human responses.  At the Oscars, and most award shows these days, they split the TV screen with the five nominees in order to help us capture the suspense and joy of the moment.  Later, in replays and online chatter, our attention gets redirected to those who do not receive awards:  were they gracious in their loss, do they visibly show their disappointment, or do they struggle to conceal their emotions?  The Big Tournament is not much different.  Every game could either be the last of the season or the last of a career for some students.  Like clockwork, players whose teams do not advance show a variety of emotions:  from the gracious loser who can genuinely say “good game,” to the victor, the player who looks angry about the loss – perhaps most angry at themselves, or the player who just breaks down in tears at a season or career suddenly gone. 

The worst part about the award season though is our reaction to those human responses.  We say things like, “She should have been happy to just be nominated,” or “Someone should have taught them about being a good sportsman?”  Our shift from understanding to a finger-pointing-should happens almost instantaneously.  Sadly, when we are given the vivid stories we have been given these last three weeks in John’s Gospel, we do the same thing in Scripture.  I can imagine the thoughts that were bouncing around in our heads during that long gospel lesson:  How could the disciples, of all people, assume someone sinned just because he is blind?  How dare those parents just abandon their son – they should have been leading the healing celebrations! And those hard-headed Pharisees?  They should relent with what Jesus is trying to show them.  Before we realize, we have turned into that Pharisee from Luke’s gospel who prays loudly, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector!”[i]

The challenge when we moralize this story about the blind man is that we tend to place ourselves dishonestly in the story.  Either, we relate most to the blind man, perhaps even recalling when God has brought about some transformation in our lives or when we have followed Jesus even when we were judged or outcast; or we read the story as an outsider looking in – as if this is a story unrelated to our own journey with Jesus.  In other words, this becomes a story about those people.  But John’s Gospel will not let us do either of those things today.  You see, John’s whole gospel is about belief.  Just two weeks ago we talked about belief when we read John 3.16 – whosoever believes in him.  But, according to scholar Karoline Lewis, “…believing in the Gospel of John is synonymous with relationship with Jesus.  To state that he believes in Jesus means that the formerly blind man is in relationship with Jesus.”  Lewis goes on to say, “When we say, ‘Lord, I believe,’ we are not only making a confession of faith but making a claim of the true presence of relationship with Jesus…To acknowledge belief as a relational category may very well transform much of how we think church and faith need to be.”[ii]

The Pharisees, the folks whom we are most like in this story, cannot be moved into this belief as relationship with Jesus.  They are confident in their own truth:  they follow the God of Moses, they know that no one but God heals on the sabbath, they know blindness is caused by sin (even the disciples agree with this one).  They resist God doing a new thing:  they demand to know Jesus’ origin, they grill the formerly blind man not once, but twice, and they even do a background check with this man’s parents.  They are proud:  when the formerly blind man asks if they might be asking so many questions because they want to follow Jesus too, and when Jesus suggests they are the blind ones, the people of faith scoff and hold their ground. 

Now, I know putting ourselves in the place of the Pharisees may feel a little too-Lent-y today.  We know we need to be repenting of our confidence in self alone, our hardhearted resistance, and our pride and vainglory.  But surely, we are not that bad, right?  Instead of assuring us that we are not, I want to assure us of something else.  The blind man’s journey to belief is just that.  At the beginning of our story today, he cannot see Jesus at all.  But he can hear Jesus and he does respond by going down and washing away the mud.  When he is first questioned by his neighbors, he honestly says he doesn’t know where this Jesus guy is.  When questioned by the religious authority about Jesus’ identity, he only slowly makes his way to belief by claiming Jesus must be a prophet.  When pushed even further, he reviews the truth of his experience, slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, he is disciple of this stranger.  Finally, in his conversation with Jesus after being kicked out of the synagogue, he says, “I believe.”  Or in other words, “I have and want a relationship with you.”  The formerly blind man’s relationship is not immediate,[iii] he does not come to relationship confidently, and he struggles to understand.  But he does struggle.

Our invitation today is not to go home feeling guilty about our hardhearted, self-centered, pride and resistance.  Our invitation is to see and hear how God can transform our resistance to the new things Jesus is doing.  The journey will not be easy – we will have people question us – in fact, we may question ourselves.  We will not know the answers, we may be afraid, and we may be cutoff from what we thought was our place of belonging.  But what the formerly blind man reminds us today is that belief, relationship with Jesus, is a journey.  Amazing things will happen – my goodness, how amazing that a man blind from birth can find new life.  But new life really comes as we walk as disciples of Christ, following Jesus when those around us, and even we ourselves, resist.  Our invitation though is to keep listening, knowing that slowly, our blindness will be lifted too.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

[i] Luke 18.11.

[ii] Karoline M. Lewis, John:  Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2014), 132.

[iii] Karoline M. Lewis, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 119

Sermon – John 9.1-41, L4, YA, March 22, 2020

27 Friday Mar 2020

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I must confess to you:  I have been dreading talking to you about this text all week.  The presence of cause and effect in this text is overwhelming.  The text says multiple times that the reason the blind man is blind from birth is because he sinned (and since it was from birth, there is the implication his parents sinned, and the blind man is being doubly punished and exists in double sin).  Those gathered insist that Jesus must be sinful too because he does not follow the law – he heals on the Sabbath, and he cannot possibly speak for or act for God as a sinner.  Jesus also says those gathered are sinners for they cannot see God.  Even at the beginning of John’s story, even Jesus says, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”

I have not wanted to preach this text today because I do not at feel comfortable with the cause and effect nature of this text, especially what that cause and effect nature seems to imply about suffering.  Can Jesus really be saying this man was made blind so that God could be revealed?  Is this text saying God causes suffering – pain, disability, ostracizing from community, poverty so deep that only begging will ensure survival?  That concept is a huge hurdle for me because that is not at all my theology of suffering.  And I especially do not like hearing that theology of suffering this week – a week when we are watching the cases of Coronavirus creep up in our country and double in our county and have begun asking the same sorts of questions the people in this passage are asking:  Where is God in this?  Why is God allowing not only this terrible virus to happen, but the accompanying societal upheaval?  Is God causing this suffering for some greater good?  This kind of health crisis pulls at all of us and in our innermost, private places, and makes us wonder, even if we cannot say the words aloud, “Did God have something to do with this virus?”  Or sometimes we find ourselves not embarrassingly asking the question, but boldly shouting at God, “What in the world are you doing?  Why aren’t you here fixing this?  How could you do this?!?”  The absolute LAST passage I want to hear when we are asking these bone-deep theological, desperate questions is a text that seems to imply God causes suffering for God’s own glory.

That is why I am especially grateful for biblical scholars who can journey with us in interpreting scripture.  Biblical Scholar Rolf Jacobson took a look at that same verse that has been nagging me all week, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”  Luckily Jacobson is better at Greek than me.  He explains that the writers of the New Revised Standard Version inserted text into the English translation that simply is just not there.  In the original Greek, the words “he was born blind,” are not there.  Instead of the text saying, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him,” the text actually says, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned [period].  In order that God’s works might be revealed in him, we must work the works of him who sent me…”  According to Jacobson, Jesus is not saying the man was blind so God could be revealed.  Jesus is saying no one sinned.  But given the situation, God has given his disciples the opportunity to do something good to reveal God’s goodness.[i]  In other words, God does not cause suffering.  But God can use us in the midst of suffering for good.

I don’t know about you, but that has shifted my understanding of this text completely.  All of the arguing about who sinned, what laws you must follow to be holy, and who should be in or out are a distraction.  The same can be true of us.  When we start trying to logic our way through fault, or sin, or blame – even blame on God, we lose our way; we become blind like those gathered and arguing in our text today.  Instead, this text is inviting us to ask different questions.  Instead of whose sin caused this virus, we can ask, “How can I be a force for good in the midst of this virus?”  Instead of why God is doing this or allowing this to happen, we can ask, “Where are the opportunities to see God acting for good in the midst of suffering?”  Instead of where is God in this, we can ask, “Where am I finding moments of God’s grace in this?”  I am not arguing our questions and demands of God are not valid at this time.  In fact, I think our quiet doubt of and our raging anger at God are perfectly normal – and maybe even necessary for honest relationship with God.  What I am arguing is this text is not a reinforcement of our sense of darkness, but instead an invitation into light – an invitation to seeing when we may feel blinded.  My prayer this week is that we stumble into those moments of light this week – that we find those moments of grace upon grace that give us renewed comfort, hope, and faith.  May God bless you in the journey toward the light.  Amen.

[i] Rolf Jacobson, “Sermon Brainwave #713 – Fourth Sunday in Lent,” March 14, 2020, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1240, on March 19, 2020.

Sermon – John 9.1-41, I Samuel 16.1-13, L4, YA, March 26, 2017

29 Wednesday Mar 2017

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In a lot of ways, Lent is about being stuck.  Many of us sit down before Lent and take stock of our lives, discerning where we are stuck, and commit to working on getting unstuck.  Some of us are not that organized, and only discover how stuck we are as we enter into the penitential season, letting the prayers, scriptural lessons, and liturgies work on us.  And some of us cannot even claim to have done that work.  We only discover when we are stuck when someone metaphorically or literally smacks us against the head and tells us to shake off whatever is getting in our way, and get back in the game.

Two characters in our scripture readings today are similarly stuck.  The first is Samuel.  If you remember, Samuel is the prophet who anoints the first king of Israel – Saul.  But eventually Saul falls out of grace with God, and although Samuel delivers God’s judgment, Samuel grieves.  We are not really sure why Samuel grieves – if Samuel was really rooting for Saul and is disappointed in Saul’s failure[i]; if Samuel is lost in Saul’s failure and is scared of what is to come for Israel; or if Samuel is worried about himself.  After all, Samuel was intimately involved in helping Israel find a king – something God did not want for Israel in the first place.  Regardless of the “Why?” of Samuel’s grief, we do know that God is unhappy with Samuel’s continued grief.  God clearly thinks Samuel is stuck in grief.  “How long will you grieve over Saul?  I have rejected him from being king of Israel.  Fill your horn with oil and set out…”

Samuel is not the only character in our scripture today who is stuck.  In John’s gospel, we find a blind man healed by Jesus on the Sabbath.  But Jesus’ actions are not the center of the story.  Twenty-six verses – or 63% of the text we heard –  is about the Pharisees being stuck in their own understanding of who, how, and when a person can heal another.  For twenty-six verses they try to figure out who Jesus is, confident that he must be a sinner if he is healing on the Sabbath.  They barrage both the formerly-blind man and his parents about the incident – bringing in the healed man twice.  The banter goes on and on and finally, the healed man says exasperatedly, “I do not know whether he is a sinner.  One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

In both Samuel and the Pharisees, we see God’s people, God’s leaders even, so stuck in their spiritual journeys that they are unable to see the work of God among them.  In both cases, neither party is doing something wrong – grief is an appropriate response from Samuel.  Samuel has invested a lot in Saul and has tried to mentor him on the right path for years.  And if we are honest, there is probably a bit of self-pity in his grief, as God’s being done with Saul means Samuel is in for a rocky road, seditiously anointing another as king before Saul has abdicated or been removed from his seat of power.[ii]  Likewise, the Pharisees are dutifully following the law of the Lord.  They have been taught for generations to honor the Sabbath and keep it holy.  We even prayed those very words last week, when we prayed the Decalogue together.  The Pharisees’ confusion is about a man acting in contradiction to everything they have ever been taught.

I wonder how often we find ourselves similarly stuck in our journey with God.  I cannot tell you the number of times someone in the midst of grief or discernment has said to me, “But this is not what was supposed to happen!”  We never plan for divorces, unexpected deaths, layoffs, addictions, betrayals, or illness.  We cannot anticipate the ways that tragedy or surprising life-changes will shake us to the core and sometimes paralyze us into inaction.  Sometimes we do not even realize we are stuck.  We get so caught up in our way of coping with life or simply surviving, that we do not realize how we deafen ourselves to the voice of God, speaking new and fresh revelation to us.

The good news for us, and for Samuel and the Pharisees, is that there is room for redemption and repentance.  God finally speaks directly and plainly to Samuel.  When Samuel has wallowed enough in his grief, God basically says, “Enough.  You have had plenty of time to grieve.  You have work to do, so get up and go.”  God even has a plan for Samuel’s safety when he protests about that.  “No more excuses.  I have you covered.  Go.”  The healed man does a similar thing for the Pharisees.  As they barrage him with question after question, he finally slows down and says, “Argue all you want!  Your confusion does not change the fact that I was blind and now I see.  Deal with it!”  Of course, the Pharisees do not accept the invitation to repentance – to change their minds.  But the healed man gives them more than enough direction toward truth and change.

The same is true for us.  There are all kinds of opportunities for us to get unstuck this Lenten season.  Many of you have already told me how the change in our liturgical pattern was just enough of a change to unsettle and reorient your senses in our worship of God.  Our bible studies have offered multiple opportunities to review the saving acts of God in history.  Our ecumenical services have given us ample occasions to see and hear God in fresh ways – whether through a different preaching style, music that touches us in new ways, or liturgical differences that shake up our senses.  I know we had a long conversation at our house about why the wine was so different at the other churches!  And I suspect our Quiet Day this coming Saturday may just be what some of us need help us hear God saying, “Enough.  Get going!”

But even in this season of repentance, of orienting ourselves back to God, the church gives us a Sunday of renewal – what the Episcopal Church calls, “Rose Sunday,” “Mothering Sunday,” or in the Latin, “Laetare Sunday.”  On this fourth Sunday in Lent, we take a break.  Virgil Michel said about this Sunday, “A Christian Lent can never be entirely sad.  With the fourth Sunday the pent up spiritual joy in the true member of Christ bursts forth in anticipation of the Easter joy to come…This was the day when the catechumens were decked with roses and when roses were mutually exchanged.  Thence comes the custom of the rose vestment.”[iii]  Our custom on this Refreshment Sunday is to wear rose-colored clothes and eat simnel cake as a way of honoring this day of refreshment.  We all need those reminders to listen to God, to be more open to revelation, to get ourselves unstuck.  But we also need those days when we say as a community, “Getting unstuck is hard work.  That you are trying is blessing enough today.  Take in a breath of God’s sweet mercy, and fill up that horn of oil tomorrow.  There is time to get up and get going.”

So breathe in the refreshment today.  Take courage that you are in good company in your need for renewal and redirection – both in the person sitting near you today and in our biblical ancestors.  Honor this Sabbath that is meant for rest for your wearied souls.  Do all those things; because tomorrow, you will indeed need to recommit to that work of getting unstuck.  You will need to pick up that horn and go do the work God has given you to do.  You will need to work on your hearing and eyesight, as God sprinkles wisdom all around for you to see and hear.  But today, fully take this Sabbath.  The good news is God will empower you to do all those other things you need to do tomorrow.  Amen.

[i] Carol A. Newsom, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 101.

[ii] Newsom, 101.

[iii] Virgil Michel, The Liturgy of the Church, quoted in A Lent Sourcebook:  The Forty Days, J. Robert Baker, Evelyn Kaehler, and Peter Mazar, ed. (Chicago:  Liturgical Training Publications, 1990), 51.