The Light that Blinds: Why the Experts Missed the Miracle in John 9

 In the Gospel of John, sight is never just about optics; it is about orientation. The narrative of the man born blind presents what scholars call the "Johannine Paradox"—the startling reality that physical vision can function as a veil, while physical darkness can become a doorway to the Truth.

As Jesus encounters the man in Jerusalem, he is not merely performing a medical miracle. He is navigating a minefield of traditional theology, social exclusion, and religious expertise. In this story, the categories of "blind" and "sighted" are completely inverted, challenging us to consider whether our own certainty is the very thing preventing us from seeing the work of God.

Deconstructing the Scorecard of Suffering

The narrative opens with a question that betrays a rigid, merit-based theology. Seeing the man, the disciples ask, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” This reflects a common ancient assumption—one that persists today—that suffering is a direct dividend of iniquity. It treats the human condition as a scorecard of divine retribution.

Jesus fundamentally deconstructs this logic. He shifts the framework from "cause" to "purpose," moving from a theology of punishment to a theology of revelation. By asserting that the man’s condition is an opportunity for God’s works to be displayed, Jesus offers a liberating concept: suffering is not a mark of shame, but a canvas for grace.

"Jesus answered, 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.'" (John 9:3)

The Paradox of the "Sighted" Expert

One of the sharpest ironies in the text is the "blindness" of the religious authorities. The Pharisees are the established experts, yet their rigid expertise becomes a theological cage. Because Jesus "kneaded" mud—a technical violation of Sabbath work prohibitions—the experts are logically forced to conclude that Jesus is a "sinner" and therefore cannot be from God.

This blindness is compounded by ancient physiological beliefs. At the time, many believed the eyes were windows through which internal light radiated outward. In the Pharisees' view, the blind man was full of internal darkness. Yet, Jesus reveals the opposite: the experts are the ones whose "sin remains" because they claim "We see." Their willful certainty creates a spiritual cataract; they are so sure of how God must act that they cannot see how God is acting.

The Social Cost of Aposynagogos

To understand the tension of this narrative, we must recognize the specific Greek term aposynagogos. Appearing only in the Gospel of John, this word describes the terrifying reality of being "put out of the synagogue." For the early Johannine community and the characters in the text, this wasn't just a religious snub; it was a total social death, a severance from familial and communal support systems.

We see the realism of this fear in the man’s parents. When interrogated, they point to their son, saying, "He is of age," desperately trying to avoid the authorities' wrath. This "historical anxiety" highlights the man’s courage. While his parents shrink in the face of political and social pressure, the man refuses to reduce his experience to what is acceptable to the establishment. He chooses the truth over the safety of the synagogue.

When the Beggar Becomes the Teacher

In a brilliant theological reversal, the marginalized beggar becomes the logic professor for the religious elite. When the authorities demand he "give glory to God" by denouncing Jesus—an ironic request, as the healing has already glorified God—the man responds with a devastatingly simple conclusion.

He argues from a shared premise: "We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him." Since Jesus has performed an unprecedented miracle, the logic is inescapable: Jesus must be from God. Frustrated by a beggar they cannot refute, the authorities resort to loidoreo—a unique Greek term in the Gospels meaning to "revile" or deeply insult. They choose to expel the witness rather than engage the evidence, or to "see" themselves.

"He answered, 'I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.'" (John 9:25)

Sight as a Journey of Relationship

True sight, in the Johannine sense, is not a momentary physical event but a progressive journey of relationship. This is mirrored in the setting: Jesus sends the man to the pool of Siloam (meaning "Sent"). This pool provided the water for temple libations during Sukkoth, the Festival of Tabernacles. By sending the man there, Jesus suggests that He, not the temple rites, is the true source of "Living Water" and the "Light of the World."

The man’s understanding of Jesus matures in stages: from "the man called Jesus," to "a prophet," and finally to a confession of faith in the "Son of Man." Interestingly, some ancient textual variants read "Son of God" in verse 35, highlighting the early church's struggle to name the magnitude of this revelation. In the end, sight is defined as an "Invitation to Abundant Life"—the capacity to recognize and worship the Light that has entered the world.

Living in the Light

The story of John 9 concludes with a radical vision of the Kingdom. It is a kingdom that moves toward the outcast, offering a space where the marginalized can tell their own truth clearly. It upends the boundaries of inclusion, showing that those driven out by the religious establishment are often the very ones Jesus seeks out to find.

"Kingdom Vision" asks us to see our neighbors not through the labels of "sinner" or "beggar," but as members of one family. As we move through our own communities, we must confront the same question the Pharisees faced: What "willful blindness" is preventing us from seeing the work of God today? Are we so convinced of our own "sight" that we are missing the miracles happening right in front of us?

The Call to Serve: The Eye of the Needle

As Jesus continued down the road, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to obtain eternal life?”

Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except the one God. You know the commandments: Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t give false testimony. Don’t cheat. Honor your father and mother.”

“Teacher,” he responded, “I’ve kept all of these things since I was a boy.”

Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He said, “You are lacking one thing. Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.” But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened, because he had many possessions.

Looking around, Jesus said to his disciples, “It will be very hard for the wealthy to enter God’s kingdom!” His words startled the disciples, so Jesus told them again, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.”

They were shocked even more and said to each other, “Then who can be saved?”

Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible with human beings, but not with God. All things are possible for God.”

Peter said to him, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”

Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.”

--Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father; Christ, our Savior, and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

I have an honest question for you. Over my past few sermons have I seemed just a little angry to you? If you said no, I’d say you were being too kind. If you said yes, I would have to agree with you. 

There are just times - perhaps you’ve experienced them, too - when I just feel angry at the world. Maybe it’s the political situation. Maybe it’s the research and study I’ve been doing these past few weeks, as I’ve been learning about the ways we have damaged our environment. Maybe it’s the weather, as I long for warmer days and sunshine. Maybe it’s just life in general.  

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s these darn disciples in Mark. Do they frustrate you like they frustrate me? They always seem so clueless. Even though Jesus is standing right in front of them. There are times when I want to reach into Scripture and just shake them and say, “Wake up, you idiots! Wake up!”

But I’ve learned from experience that, most often, when I am angry at the world, it’s often not because of what is happening externally. Instead, it’s usually my own stuff. Things that are going on internally. Remember what Jesus said to the disciples and to us just a few weeks ago? That evil things don’t come from the outside, but that they begin inside and contaminate us.

But, more on this in a few minutes. Let’s turn to today’s story.

It’s important that we understand the structure of this part of Mark. Last week, we heard Peter’s confession that Jesus was the Christ. I mentioned that, just before this lesson, there is a healing by Jesus. Of a man who is blind. It takes Jesus two tries to heal this man. 

Immediately after, we have the story we heard last week - of Peter’s confession. It’s at this point that Jesus begins to teach the disciples about what will happen to him. To begin to help them understand “why” Jesus, the Christ, has come to earth. And to cement Jesus’ teaching, he is transfigured on the mountain and the voice from heaven speaks to the disciples, telling them to listen to Jesus.

But, still, they don’t get it. Like the blind man, they don’t understand on the first try. Or even the second. Because, this past Wednesday, we heard the story of the disciples and their argument on the road headed to Jerusalem. The argument about which one of them is the best!  And we heard Jesus’ response - that whoever wants to be first in the kingdom of God, must be last. Then, to illustrate his point, Jesus takes a child in his arms and says to them that God's kingdom belongs to people like these. Like children. Who, as we learned, in Jesus’ day had no status at all and were likely to die before reaching adulthood.

This story immediately precedes our story today. Jesus is walking on the road to Jerusalem. Suddenly, a man runs up, asking what must he do to inherit eternal life. He seems respectful and sincere, even when Jesus tells him - good Jew that Jesus is - that he must keep the entire law. And we hear the man respond that he has kept all of it since he was a boy. He seems truly sincere. 

It’s at this point, that I’m always blown away by Jesus’ response. In verse 21. “Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. We’ve heard Jesus rebuke the disciples when they didn’t get it. One has to wonder why Jesus doesn’t unload on this fellow. But, for some reason, Jesus just looks at him intently. And then he loves him.

It’s pretty convicting, isn’t it? At least, it is for me. Especially as I’ve been so angry at these disciples, who just seem to get it. It reminds me of the times when I would get frustrated with my son growing up, when he just wouldn’t get things either. And I’d scold him. Then, he’d look at me with such a hurt look on his face that I often ended up apologizing to him and picking him up, then, and hugging him. But, Jesus? He looks at the man and he loves him.

I’ve been reading a book titled “30 Day Journey With St. Hildegard of Bingen.” Hildegard was a female Christian leader in the medieval church, one of several who we today call the Medieval Mystics. She received visions from God and, eventually, wrote extensively about them, also founding an abbey for nuns in Bingen, Germany. She became very famous and corresponded with bishops and popes and even the major political leaders of her day. I’ve read some of her writing before and picked up this book especially because many of her themes relate to creation and to things in the natural world. So, I thought it would be a good way for me to prepare for our Lenten conversations around this same topic.

Earlier this week, I read an excerpt from a letter she wrote in the late 12th century. In it she refers to a world suffering from “already festering wounds” that is in dire need of healing. And that, if you apply scourges (a scourge is generally understood as a whip used to punish). If you apply scourges to an already festering wound, all you will do is bring forth poison mixed with blood. But to show mercy is to simply refrain from applying more scourges. 

Isn’t this what Jesus is doing to this man? He could easily have applied scourges to this man. Shaming him for his unwillingness to put Jesus first in his life by giving up all of his wealth to the poor. But, he doesn’t. Instead, Jesus looks at him intently. And loves him.

How often do we apply “scourges” to “already festering wounds” in our world today? A world that seems to be hurting so deeply, witnessed in part by the large number of mass shootings this year, one this past week. How often in a world that seems to be walking wounded do we respond like Jesus simply with love? I think it’s no accident that today’s story is preceded by the story of the little children. Because children have no wealth. They have no power. They have no advantage in our world. Yet, in the subversiveness of God’s world, their advantage is their helplessness. To not be possessed by those things that end up wounding us. Those things that lead us away from life. Instead, in their helplessness they simply believe. And trust. And love. 

Because, ultimately, it’s not our wealth that makes it hard to get into heaven. It’s our unwillingness to give up the things of this world that possess us, that draw us away from God. That keep us from passing through the eye of the needle.

So, what was making me so angry over these past few weeks. It’s because, in preparing my sermons, I myself was completely convicted. I like the disciples saw, but failed to perceive. Heard, but did not understand. Refused to allow my blind eyes to be opened. 

But, that’s the thing about Jesus. If his healing act doesn’t work the first time, he keeps trying it until our eyes are opened. Because, just as Jesus looked at the rich man, he looks at us. And loves us. And never gives up on us.

In this discipline of Lent, may we practice showing this same mercy to a world with festering wounds. By sacrificing. By loving. By trusting. Because Jesus promises that our childlike discipleship will not be futile. No matter how hard it may be. 

“Many who are first will be last. And the last will be first.” Amen.

Preached March 1, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Lent 1
Readings: Mark 10:17-31, Deuteronomy 8:11-14, Psalm 19:7-10

Light of the World

Jesus spoke to the people again, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me won’t walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”

Then the Pharisees said to him, “Because you are testifying about yourself, your testimony isn’t valid.”

Jesus replied, “Even if I testify about myself, my testimony is true, since I know where I came from and where I’m going. You don’t know where I come from or where I’m going. You judge according to human standards, but I judge no one. Even if I do judge, my judgment is truthful, because I’m not alone. My judgments come from me and from the Father who sent me. In your Law it is written that the witness of two people is true. I am one witness concerning myself, and the Father who sent me is the other.”

They asked him, “Where is your Father?”

Jesus answered, “You don’t know me and you don’t know my Father. If you knew me, you would also know my Father.” He spoke these words while he was teaching in the temple area known as the treasury. No one arrested him, because his time hadn’t yet come.  John 8:12-20 (CEB)

I am the light of the world. These are the words that Jesus opens tonight’s reading with. I am the light of the world. 

Preparing for tonight has brought me to thinking about light. When I was a kid, there were times during winter when we would lose power, just as many here in our area have lost power with the flooding. The only way for us to see in the dark of night was to light a candle. 

We’re going to try an experiment tonight with light. What happens if I turn the lights off? (We can’t see. It’s completely dark.) What happens if I light one candle? (We can see a little. The candle gives off a little light.) What happens if I share the light from the candle with others? (It gets brighter and brighter. It sends the shadows away.)

Over these past weeks, I’ve been watching the Winter Olympics. Perhaps you have been, too. In the few weeks leading up to them, we were witness to the trial of a doctor affiliated with the U.S. Olympic Committee. A doctor who was convicted of numerous counts of sexual molestation against many young women, most of whom were children at the time. It was ugly to hear their stories. It was heart-breaking to watch. And, for me at least, it was frustrating to learn that complaints had been lodged against him and met with no response. A system that was supposed to protect and develop these young athletes had instead protected a doctor who continued to molest over and over and over again.

This is what systemic sin looks like. Darkness. It is only with the in-breaking of God’s light that such sin and such systems are dismantled. And it is only with the in-breaking of God’s light that justice happens. That those in power are disrupted.  That new systems and new structures are created that serve all people, and not just a few.

This was the stumbling block for the Pharisees in tonight’s story. They could not--they would not--see the in-breaking of God into the world in the person of Jesus standing right in front of them. In the moment of judgment--or crisis in the Greek--they missed God in front of them. They missed the light that was Christ, choosing instead to remain in the darkness of their unbelief.

Where are you in this story? Are you like one of the Pharisees? Or are you like the blind man who will be healed in the very next chapter--a man who, through God’s grace, believes in, is healed, and, then, who witnesses to Jesus. The Messiah. The Son of God. 

Do you see God shining into the darkness of your life? Are you even open to the possibility?  What are your spiritual practices during this Lenten season that might help you better focus on and see Christ standing right in front of you. Perhaps in the face of a client at our food pantry. Perhaps in the person seated beside you. Jesus. Right in front of you. The Word made flesh. The great, “I AM.”


We give thanks tonight for the light. For Jesus, the light of the world, who continues to break into our lives and into the systems of our world and to turn them upside down, to expose our sin, and to re-create us into new beings and build new systems that witness to the presence of God in our world and that serve everyone, bringing darkness-dispersing light into all the world. Amen.

Preached Feb. 28, 2017 at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Midweek Worship - Lent 2
Reading: John 8:12-20

Invitation to Abundant Life: In Jesus (Part 2)

Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.

“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

Again the Jews were divided because of these words. Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?” Others were saying, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?” John 9:39-41, 10:1-21 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

This past Sunday, we heard the first of the two-part episode of Jesus’ healing the blind man in the temple on the Sabbath. On Sunday, we were witness to the first six scenes. In the opening scene, we watched as Jesus took the dust of the earth, spat in it, made mud, and rubbed it on the man’s eyes. He then sent him to wash and, when he did, the man could see for the first time in his life. In the next few scenes, we saw the effect of this healing--the Jewish leaders questioning his parents and then the blind man himself, demanding to know who had healed him. We witnessed the fear of his parents--a fear grounded in the unspoken rule that if they named Jesus as the healer they would be cast out of the synagogue and away from their entire community, losing their security and entire support system.  We heard the blind man, when confronted by the Jewish leadership, confess Jesus as the healer, proclaim his divinity, and then, as expected, be cast out of the synagogue. Once again on the edge of society. Our episode on Sunday ended with Jesus finding the man, sight restored, who confessed his faith in Jesus, the Word made flesh standing right there in front of him.

As the second and final part of the episode opens tonight, Jesus confronts the Jewish leaders--”I have come into the world to exercise judgment so that those who don’t see can see and those who see will become blind.” The Pharisees respond, “Surely we aren’t blind, are we?” 

We, these 2,000 years later don’t have the benefit of hearing the inflection voices. Were they asking sincerely, perhaps questioning their own level of sight and understanding? Or was their question asked sarcastically, blind to their own ignorance and unwillingness to believe? Jesus’ response to them suggests the latter--”If you were blind, you wouldn’t have any sin, but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”

Jesus then moves into a discourse--a speech--that we commonly know as the “Good Shepherd” discourse. We’ve heard this many times before, haven’t we? “The one who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep...the sheep listen to his voice...I am the Good Shepherd,” Jesus proclaims. “I came so that they could have life--indeed, so that they could have life abundantly,” or as the Common English Bible translates it, “so that they could live life to the fullest.” 

Have any of you ever been a shepherd? Or worked with sheep? A colleague of mine recently shared a video of Christopher Lange, a sheep farmer in Norway. The video, which was filmed by his friend Oyvind Kleiveland, was intended to test the question of whether sheep only obey their master’s voice. As it plays, we see several people attempt to call the sheep home, finishing with the shepherd, Mr. Lange, himself. Let’s watch. 

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day in Lent. It is the day in which we are reminded of our own mortality. Of the darkness of our existence apart from God. The blind man was also reminded of his own mortality. Of the darkness of his existence. He was living it in his daily reality, begging for sustenance, completely dependent upon others for his life. His was a dark, mortal, finite existence without God. 

Jesus broke into his darkness. And using the very dust and ashes that were the symbol of his mortality, restored his sight and with it, the ability to live life abundantly. To live life to the fullest. And, then, when he was cast out of the synagogue, Jesus sought him out again. Just as the shepherd in tonight’s video called his sheep, Jesus called the blind man by name, bringing him into intimate relationship. With Jesus, his Good Shepherd. 

On this day, our Good Shepherd calls us, too, just like the blind man. Our Shepherd calls us out of our own blindness with a voice we know. Calls us back into intimate relationship with him. Calls us into a deeper place, a place of sustenance, a place of community. A place of abundant life--where we might live life to the fullest. And, then, takes the dust of our own mortality and marks us with the cross. With his cross.

Sight. Intimate relationship. Sustenance. Community. Abundant life. These are all what God desires for us and what God promises to us as we journey through this Lenten season. May we continue to hear our shepherd’s call so that we might, along with the blind man, always proclaim, “Lord, I believe.” 

God grant it. Amen.

Preached on , February 14, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Ash Wednesday
Readings: Psalm 23; John 9:39-41, 10:1-21

Invitation to Abundant Life: In Jesus (Part 1)

Grace and peace to you from our Savior Jesus, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

A couple of weeks ago, when we heard the story of Nicodemus, I mentioned a commentary by Lindsey Trozzo, a professor of biblical ethics and rhetoric at Baylor University. In it, she suggested thinking of the Gospel of John as a multi-act play or a TV mini-series. As each chapter unfolds, we hear and see a new interaction. Sometimes it’s between Jesus and his disciples. Sometimes it's between Jesus and the Jewish leadership. Sometimes, as in last week’s lesson, it’s between Jesus and someone we might consider an outcast. With each interaction, with each encounter, it's as though a new act or a new episode begins. Each building one upon the other. Each part of a plot line that will, I suspect, eventually reach a turning point--a climax in theatre language--a point of great tension.

Today’s lesson offers us one more act from the Gospel of John. Another episode in the mini-series. An episode in seven scenes. 

Scene 1 (Read John 9:1-7). Our first scene opens upon Jesus, a blind man, and the disciples. Jesus sees the man. Blind from birth. A man who has never had sight. Not once seen a sunrise. Not once seen a wildflower. Not once seen the face of someone he loved.

Jesus sees him, though. The disciples do, too. But their focus isn’t on him, but on his sin. “Who sinned, Jesus? Was it him? Or his parents? Who sinned that he was born blind?” It’s an assumption made by them. That anyone with or stricken by a physical ailment or disability must be suffering because of sin--whether their own or that of a previous generation. It’s an assumption we still make today, don’t we? Of others. Sometimes, of ourselves. “What did I do wrong, God, to deserve this cancer?” we might ask ourselves.

But as we learned last week, sin, in John, isn’t a moral category. In John, sin is a category of relationship. And for this man--this blind man--his disability is an opportunity for God’s work to be revealed in him. An opportunity for relationship--for relationship with God present in the Word made flesh. Right there in front of him.

So, Jesus takes the dust of the earth. And with the dust and with his saliva, Jesus makes mud and rubs it onto his eyes. He sends him to wash. He does. And then he returns. With full eyesight.

Do you notice how the man listens to Jesus’ voice and follows his direction? Do you notice how the same dust that God used to create new life in Genesis gives this man new life, too? 

Scene 2 (Read John 9:8-12). As our second scene opens, Jesus and the disciples are no longer present. The man is, though. The man who is no longer blind. And with him a variety of people, moving in and out of the scene. Notice that all of the verbs in this scene are in the present tense. They describe what had been his daily reality.  Sitting. Begging. Every day and all day, fully dependent on others for his own survival. 

His neighbors cross-examine him. They ask how he regained his sight. “The man called Jesus,” he says. Do you notice here how he knows Jesus’ name?

What’s the first thing you do when you meet someone for the very first time? You ask their name. Knowing someone’s name is the first step of entering into relationship, isn’t it? “The man called Jesus,” he says. He now knows Jesus. The man.

But the man who now sees does not yet know Jesus, the divine. Not yet, at least.

Scene 3 (Read John 9:13-17). “He is a prophet.” This man, now called “formerly blind,” is truly beginning to see. As our scene develops, we watch the relationship grow and new understanding dawning.  The blind man is now beginning to know Jesus, the divine. And to witness to him. 
It’s not clear in our text whether he has even yet actually seen Jesus. He heard his voice and followed his request. Yet, even though Jesus is not physically present in this scene, the man’s “sight”--his spiritual eyesight is growing. Especially as he begins to witness to Jesus’ presence in his life.

In contrast, the Pharisees continue in their own spiritual blindness. “On a Sabbath!” They proclaim, stuck in their religious rules. Speaking of Jesus, they ask, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” How ironic it is that they, and not the formerly blind man, are the ones who lack true sight! 

How is your eyesight lately?

Scene 4 (Read John 9:18-23). In our fourth scene, the Jewish leaders don’t believe him at first--that he was ever blind. It is his parents who confirm this. “He was born blind.” When they are asked how his sight has been restored, they point back to their son. They do this, because they are afraid--afraid that if they say that Jesus has done this--that the Messiah has done this--they will be banished from the synagogue and, with it, from their entire social, religious and communal life.  
Do you recall, when we first began reading this gospel, who John’s audience was? The gospel was written for a group of believers who, because they chose to follow Jesus, had been cast out of the synagogue. Who chose to leave their families for good. Who in faith chose to separate themselves from every aspect of their lives. To follow Jesus.

I wonder if we would make the same choice.

Scene 5 (Read John 9:24-34). This second dialogue between the blind man and the Pharisees is longer. It will be the last. They ask him the same questions, as though he will give different answers. They lack eyesight. They don’t hear him witness to them.  

In his testimony, the blind man names it. It takes hearing. And sight. He calls out their deafness and their blindness to the reality that God--that their God, the God of Moses--is the one who has done this. The one who is revealing Godself in a whole new way. If only they would look and listen.

They don’t. They cast him out of the synagogue.

Scene 5 (Read John 9:35-38). As our next scene opens, Jesus, who has been absent since the healing, hears that the man has been cast out of the synagogue. He searches for him as the Good Shepherd searches for his sheep. He finds him. And when he does, Jesus asks him, “Do you believe? Do you believe in the Son of Man?” 

“Who is this Son of Man?” the blind man asks. We’ve heard this question from the beginning of the Gospel. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathaniel asked. “How can this be?” Nicodemus asked. “Can he be the one?” the Samaritan woman wonders.  Who is Jesus? 

“I AM.” In these words, Jesus fully reveals himself to the man, just as God revealed himself to Moses. What else is there to say, but “I believe!” 

This is what true relationship with Jesus looks like. What full recognition of Jesus is. It is an individual and gradual process that happens in dialogue with God. And, yes, sometimes even in confrontation. 

When we say, “Lord, I believe,” we are not only confessing our faith. Like the blind man, we are claiming our relationship with Jesus. We are stepping right into the arms of Jesus, our Good Shepherd. Who hears us. And sees us. And loves us. Just as we are.

I bet you thought it was over, didn’t you. That this episode had reached its climax with the blind man’s confession of faith and claim of relationship. But there is a twist in this plot.

Scene 6 (Read John 9:39-40). “I came into this world for judgment.” Jesus says. What? What happened to his words in John 3:17, “God did not send the Son in the world to condemn the world…”?

Judgment in John is not an outward condemnation. It is self-condemnation. Not believing in Jesus brings judgment upon oneself. It isn’t judgment from Jesus or from God. But self-imposed judgment. It is about how we respond to Jesus as the Word made flesh. It is that moment of judgment--that moment of crisis--for everyone who has an encounter with Jesus. A moment that demands a response.

This week, with Ash Wednesday, we begin the season of Lent. Lent is a time for us to step back a bit. To check our hearing and our seeing. To check our response to Jesus. To see how we are living as his disciples. To see how we are witnessing to him. 

“I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” 

“Surely we are not blind, are we?” the Pharisees asked. We ask.

How does Jesus respond to them? To us? The answer will come in our seventh and final scene. To be continued on Ash Wednesday. Be sure and tune in. Amen.

Preached February 11, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church.
Transfiguration Sunday
Readings: Psalm 27:1-4, John 9:1-40.