I Once Was Blind

I Once Was Blind

John 9:1-41

I was a freshman at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, taking a child psychology class, the first time I was ever asked to look at a Rorschach ink blot and make a response. Actually, the professor was asking the whole class to look at the blot – I was just the only one who responded.

Assuming we had read the text and understood the point of the Rorschach test, the professor held up one of the cards. It was Plate #1, for those of you who have either memorized the cards or who want to look it up later online. He started to prattle on about how he saw a butterfly in the blot, and that everyone should see a butterfly in the blot because the blot looked like a butterfly, and that saying you saw a butterfly in the blot was a perfectly normal response because the blot looked like a butterfly.

It was pretty clear that the professor expected us to see a butterfly in that blot. He then asked if any one saw anything other than a butterfly in the blot, when it so obviously was a butterfly, which is what we all should see in the butterfly blot. Looking back, I now think that this may have been a rhetorical question. I don’t think he actually wanted anyone to respond to his question. But it can be a dangerous thing to ask for a response if you don’t want a response, because you might actually get a response.

As a freshman, I was still under the impression that if a professor asks a question in class, you are supposed to answer it, so I raised my hand. I said, “I see a conductor in a garden, standing under a vine covered archway, arms raised, head bowed, in that moment just before he brings in the orchestra for the last movement of Igor Stravinsky’s ‘The Rites of Spring.’”

The class got really quiet. That answer didn’t sound anything at all like, “I see a butterfly.” The class got quiet because this nontraditional response might have been an indication that I had some sort of mental illness. Most of the class didn’t really know anything about me other than I had just raised my hand and had seen something other than the normal butterfly in a blot. But then my friend sitting next to me said, “Hey, I see it, too.” An agreeable murmur spread through the class, while the professor shook his head and said, “There’s one in every class.”

My daughter Susan, who has a doctorate in psychology, has since assured me that while my response was very descriptive and detailed, it just shows that I have an imagination that looks for positive possibilities. There might have been a reason to be concerned if I had said, for example, that I saw someone lurking in the bushes, arms raised ready to pounce on someone. It is okay to see more than just a butterfly in an inkblot. It is okay to see the positive possibilities in every person we meet.

We live in a world that thinks seeing a butterfly in an inkblot, and only seeing a butterfly in an inkblot, is the normal way to see. And most of the time, the normal way of seeing something is fine. It is fine, of course, until it isn’t.

A big part of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ gets revealed by how we see things in this world. We are continually being asked to interpret the signs of the world we see around us. Does this sign point us towards God, or does it point us towards evil? Does that sign draw us closer in love with our neighbors, or does it point us away from community? Does this other sign indicate the way to build us up as disciples, or is it the sign that leads us down a path of destruction and despair?

Becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ is about learning how to see as Jesus sees when we look at the world. When we see as the world sees, it is easy to get caught up in the declining trends of attendance, the increasing spirit of divisiveness, and the stagnating prospects for acceptable change. When we can see as Jesus sees, however, we will notice that the field is ripe for the harvesting, that it is through forgiveness that we become one in Christ, and that the kingdom comes when we love one another as Christ has loved us.

Most people who come to worship read this story from our scripture reading and they see a pattern of blindness, then kindness, and then more blindness. They see this pattern and they think that this is the way it has to be, even for the faithful.

We are told of a man born blind, and how Jesus gives him sight. And if the passage ended there, we would have a miracle story that affirmed Jesus as the Son of God. If the passage ended there, we would know that Jesus has the power to forgive sins, and the power to give eyesight. If the passage ended there, we would be able to keep Jesus in a little tiny box, as someone who does amazing things for us but does not expect us to change our lives.

But the story doesn’t end there, and for that we are truly grateful. It continues as we are told about the many things the people of this community see in this inkblot of a life. These people are all participating in a test which reveals how they see the world. The answers they give all fall into the “normal” range as acceptable answers. They see sin, and they see God’s justice, and they see enough blame to spread around. And all of that would have been fine for them to see, of course, except that Jesus says that it isn’t.

For their part of the test, the disciples encounter a man who has never seen a flower, who has never seen a sunrise, who has never seen his parents, who has never seen the place he called home – and all the disciples can see is that he must have done something wrong to deserve this judgment. They don’t see this as a positive possibility for reflecting on their own sin.

The disciples don’t see this, of course, because if they did, they would have to wonder why they were also not blind. This is not a moment of revelation that has them thinking, ‘Oh golly gee, I’m not living the way I ought to be, and there but for the grace of God go I.” Instead, it has become a moment of thinking, "Oh, the poor slob got caught. I guess there really are consequences of doing a poor job of living before God.” They saw themselves as better than the once-blind man.

For their part of the test, the Pharisees encounter a man who amazingly once was blind but now can see. And instead of rejoicing with him, all they can see is someone who has participated in activities that are not Sabbath-approved. They don’t see this as a positive possibility for reflecting on how God is doing a new thing in the world through Jesus.

The Pharisees don’t see this, of course, because if they did, they would have to admit that their observance of the law alone could not save them from God’s judgment. Instead, it has become a moment of judging others so that they can justify feeling superior to those persons who, in their opinion, are less favored by God.

For their part of the test, the parents encounter what should have been the answer to their prayers after so many years of praying that their son could see. But instead of praising God for this blessing, now all they can see is someone who has become the problem that threatens their already fragile relationship with the authorities. They don’t see this as a positive possibility of the saving power of Jesus Christ, of course, because if they did, they would have to admit that they are still trying to save themselves. Instead, they see the only way to save themselves is to deny their son.

Part of the work we are to do during Lent is to identify all the places in our life where we are blind to how God is at work among us in the world. Do we see opportunities to shine the light of God’s grace into the darkness of sin, or do we see a darkness that threatens to undo us? One is the way of discipleship; the other is the way of the world. Do we see strangers as friends we just haven’t met yet, or do we see them as possible threats to our way of life? One is the way of discipleship; the other is the way of the world. Do we see people who are in need as a calling to serve Jesus, or do we see them as deficient beings who got exactly what they deserved? One is the way of discipleship; the other is the way of the world.

There is a prayer of confession from the Christian Celtic tradition that recognizes our spiritual blindness. It is a very simple prayer that recognizes that our biggest blind spot can be how we see our self.

Jesus, forgive my sins. Forgive the sins that I can remember, and also the sins I have forgotten. Forgive the wrong actions I have committed, and the right actions I have omitted. Forgive the times I have been weak in the face of temptation, and those when I have been stubborn in the face of correction. Forgive the times I have been proud of my own achievements, and those when I have failed to boast of your works. Forgive the harsh judgments I have made of others, and the leniency I have shown to myself. Forgive the lies I have told to others, and the truths I have avoided. Forgive me the pain I have caused others, and the indulgence I have shown to myself. Jesus, have pity on me, and make me whole.

As disciples, we become whole when we see the vision of God’s kingdom revealed in the grace of Jesus Christ; and then, strengthened by the Holy Spirit, we help others live into that vision. During Lent, we examine ourselves for those blind spots in our faith that can keep us from seeing our part in the kingdom. We take a look at how we fail to see others as persons that Jesus came to redeem by his death on the cross.

We are given a world to look at, and Jesus asks us to really see it in the light of God’s grace and love. Jesus asks us to make a response, and unlike in a freshman psychology class, a faithful response is clearly indicated. It is not only OK, but necessary, for us to see more in this life than just the obvious inkblots. We are called to see in each person what God knows to be worth redeeming, a life so valuable that God sent us Jesus.

That is how Jesus sees each of us. If we don’t learn how to see as Jesus sees, then we may move from blindness to kindness as we try to do what Jesus did, but we will surely fall back into blindness again. But if we humble ourselves, confess our sins, and receive the Holy Spirit, we will be given eyes to see faithfully, and strength to love as we are loved. And then an agreeable murmur will spread across the earth as others begin to proclaim, “Hey, I see it, too.”

As we look at the world before us, may we see the kingdom of God breaking in, and live into our discipleship. Let us seek the faith which can remove our blindness, and every other obstacle to living into the kingdom of God!

UMH 650 “Give Me The Faith Which Can Remove” (alternate tune “Faith of our Fathers”)