Sight

(From John 9)

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.’ When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, ‘Go, wash in the pool of Siloam’ (which means Sent).

He is our son and nothing can change that. Nothing. But I have to admit that so much about him has changed, that we, his mother and I, feel very challenged. In some ways, we’re not sure that we know him anymore. Our world, has, in fact, been turned upside down. And the irony is that though we stopped praying for this long ago, it has now happened.

Our son, you see, was born blind. We take full responsibility. It was our fault. Somehow. And yes, we did pray, literally for years, that a miracle would happen and that he would be given sight. But it didn’t happen and we stopped praying for that a long time ago, believing as our priests have told us, that nothing can be done, and that we must ask forgiveness, because we caused his blindness.

That was all years ago and our son is now a grown man. As a blind man, he lives in a very small world. And not just physically. Yes, his movements have been very restricted, for the sake of his own safety. But more than that, his blindness has cast him as an outsider in our community. He is not accepted. He is considered a “sinner” and of course, as his parents, so are we. For the most part, we are, the three of us, shunned.

All of this changed when the young rabbi, Jesus, gave sight to our son. I’m sorry, but I can’t say it any more plainly than that, and strange to say, that’s when the real trouble began. You would think it a reason for great celebration, but it was not.

It seemed so incidental, almost accidental. Jesus wasn’t looking to heal anyone, especially a blind man who had never before had vision. He was, in reality, just passing through, walking the streets of Jerusalem, with no apparent destination or purpose in mind. Was it a coincidence that brought him face to face with our son? It’s hard to explain.

When he came upon our son, who was begging, Jesus’ disciples asked who was at fault for his blindness. I wish I could believe Jesus’ response, because he replied that we, as parents, were not at fault. Nor was our son. None of us! He went on to say that our son was blind so that the glory of God could be shown as he was given sight. Can you believe it?

 Then, Jesus spat on the ground and made a mud of sorts, placing it on our son’s eyes. He told our son to go to the pool of Siloam and wash the mud out. I don’t know how he got there, but he did, and he washed out his eyes. And he could see! For the first time in his life, he could see!

Healing of the Man Born Blind, painted by El Greco in 1567

Of course, our son had no idea what Jesus looked like. There was no way to thank him, for Jesus had moved on. But they would meet again, later.

Oh, and I almost forgot one very important fact: all of this occurred on a Sabbath. I have to ask myself, why, of all days, did this have to happen on a Sabbath? Because, as you are about to see, that became a huge problem, since it was a violation of the law to heal on the Sabbath.

You see, our neighbors, upon seeing our son, fully sighted, and walking without assistance, were understandably astonished. So, of course, were we. Honestly, we didn’t even know how to celebrate something so miraculous as having our son’s sight given to him. As I said, we’d given up praying for this long ago.

Some of them even questioned if it was actually our son. Of course it was our son, though I must admit that there was something different about him. To be sure, he was happier than he’d been in years. And because he could see, his movements were altogether different from the movements of a blind man. He was still a little unsure of himself, as he’d never before been able to move without extreme care. But now, he moved, increasingly, with the confidence of a sighted man.

Yet there was more, something else that seemed different. He had a sort of glow about him, an inner joy, that we’d never seen before. We could see that he was losing the shame that came with a lifetime of blindness and begging. And that, it turns out, would become a problem.

As he told us about Jesus and the miracle of his sight, some who were listening began to question his story. They had heard about this Jesus, and they didn’t approve of him. He associated with sinners. He disparaged the Pharisees, calling them hypocrites. He violated the Sabbath. And he was from Galilee! Not a place that would ever produce a prophet, much less the Messiah, as some claimed him to be. 

I could see that a storm was brewing. And in his newfound joy, our son was entering into an argument that I feared would not end well. I wanted to hold him back, but there was no stopping him as he, in his excitement, explained again and again what had happened. Couldn’t they understand? This Jesus had done something exceptional, even miraculous, in granting him his sight.

A crowd had now gathered, some claiming that our son wasn’t really our son, and others arguing that Jesus was an imposter. A few, like us, were just happy that our son could now see.

But the adverse mood of the crowd prevailed and at the suggestion of one of our neighbors, they marched our son off to tell his story to the Pharisees. I had a feeling that this would not turn out so well.

It did not. The Pharisees questioned our son, or perhaps I should say that they interrogated him. They were divided, some saying that this was indeed a miracle, while others, calling Jesus a sinner, claimed that one who didn’t keep the Sabbath could never perform such a miracle.

Repeatedly, our son explained what had happened. And repeatedly, the Pharisees attempted to discredit him and his story. Finally, one of them asked our son who he thought Jesus was.

“He is a prophet,” our son replied, exhibiting a growing frustration with their disbelief in what was so obvious to him.

Well, that set them off even more, so they sent for us, his parents. It was our turn to be interrogated.

We told what we knew, but could only repeat what our son had told us. The questioning went on, and on, as they sought any inconsistency in our story that would justify their disbelief. It was clear that they were determined to discredit this miracle that was standing right in front of them!

We knew that those who claimed that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. That was tantamount to total exclusion, almost societal exile, as if they were lepers. We had to be careful. So, we told them that our son was an adult and that they should question him, as we could say no more.

And they did. And it got ugly. They insulted him, they threatened him, and they did what they could to get him to discredit Jesus. They called Jesus a “sinner” and expected our son to do likewise. But he would not. He stood firm. 

Frustrated, he finally answered, “We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly person who does his will. Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

At that, the Pharisees threw him out of their presence.

Later, Jesus found our son. And our son decided then and there to follow Jesus, as the Messiah. And then Jesus said something very interesting. He said, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind.”

The Pharisees, and some of our own neighbors, refused to see. Their preconceptions blinded them. Even after witnessing our son and hearing his story, they refused to see. How could they miss it?

My wife and I have spent a lot of time wondering what to make of all of this. We are certainly happy for our son. The miracle was undeniable, despite the attempts of others to discredit it. 

It taught me a lot about the power of preconceptions, that a person’s inmost beliefs can literally lead them to deny what is standing right in front of them. And as a result, our family remains suspect in the eyes of neighbors, and especially in the eyes of the Pharisees. We lived under a cloud while our son was blind and to a large extent, that cloud remains.

Most of all, we’ve pondered the effect of the miracle on our son. Jesus, it seems, gave him more than his sight. Much more. 

Our son no longer begs. He works. He is productive. Jesus gave him a means for his own livelihood. And his independence.

And that joy that I mentioned earlier. Yes, our son is joyful. His shame is gone. He is confident. I wish I could say the same for my wife and for me. We still live in a sort of shadow world, fearful of crossing a line, afraid to displease the powerful people in our lives. Our steps are not bold, but tentative.

However, our son, unlike us, is not afraid. He walks in confidence. It’s as if he can now see much more than the physical world around him. He can see truths, deep truths that were given him by Jesus, along with his sight. Truths, I have to confess, that I cannot see.

We are proud of our son, how he stood up. Now that he is following Jesus, he has something much more than sight, something that I wish I had. But I am afraid. I have to admit, I have too much to lose. 

Can Jesus open my eyes too? Can he? Can he give me my sight, like he did for our son?