Sight Is Dangerous, But Better Than Blindness
Sermon
It's strange how sudden and traumatic events can sometimes turn your life around. When John Ward's daughter Julie was murdered in a Kenyan game reserve 11 or 12 years ago, his life completely changed. He has devoted all his time since his daughter's death to tracking down her killers, and he's worked against all odds. Many a lesser mortal would have given up amongst the tangle of red tape in a foreign country many years ago. But such is the love of a father for his daughter that John Ward kept going. His only reward is the satisfaction of gaining posthumous justice for his daughter.
When 12 year old Tim died as a result of an IRA bomb outrage in Warrington some years ago, his father Colin suddenly found himself very much involved in the Northern Ireland peace movement. Prior to his son's death Colin, like I suspect most of the rest of us, was mildly interested in peace for Northern Ireland. But after his son's death that interest became a burning zeal to do what he could to prevent the deaths of other children.
Since Diana Lamplugh's estate agent daughter Suzy disappeared without trace some 15 or 20 years ago, presumed abducted and murdered, Diana Lamplugh has been instrumental in setting up a helpline for homeless youngsters who feel threatened.
These parents are not unique. Many parents who have lost children through illness or some other cause, suddenly find themselves precipitated into doing something to prevent other youngsters suffering the same fate. And that becomes their reason for living. Most parents can immediately understand the motivation which drives such people.
So it's all the more surprising to read in this week's gospel of parents who in effect throw their son to the wolves. Their son was born blind, which in the first century must have been a terrible handicap. Presumably his parents, who must surely have given sacrificially of themselves to enable him to survive, brought him up.
When they discovered that at the age of 20 or 30 something he could see for the first time in his life, you'd have expected them to be over the moon with joy. But they don't seem at all excited, rather they seem grudging and resentful.
They seem so cowed by the Jewish authorities, that they're afraid to rejoice with their son. When the Jews ask them how their son received his sight, they do a Pilate act. They wash their hands of the whole affair, and leave their son alone to answer for himself, and to face the consequences of his answer all alone.
How could any parents act in such a way? What had happened to them, that they put their own survival above their son's? Where is that fierce, protective love experienced by parents in relation to their offspring?
Perhaps their reaction is something to do with years of guilt, years of carrying the burden that their son's blindness was due to their sin, was their fault. If you're told over and over again what a terrible person you must be, and if the evidence that proves your sin is always before your eyes, you soon forget how to hold your head high.
Human beings are fragile creatures. Cruel words and unkind deeds can soon cut away all self-confidence, so that people become crushed and unable to use their God-given gifts. And a lifetime of cruel taunts can distort and twist personality.
What comes across as so very surprising in this story, is the courage and strength and determination of the blind man. It hardly seems possible that this man is the son of those parents. Where they show weakness and craven cowardice, he shows maturity and self-confidence. He doesn't care about being thrown out of the synagogue. He doesn't care what the religious authorities think of him.
Perhaps he had never been accepted. Perhaps he had always been on the margins of society because of his blindness, and had therefore learnt a certain toughness. Perhaps he'd learnt self-reliance because he'd been thrown to the wolves all his life.
Jesus is very taken with this man. Not only does he heal him, but he's also concerned about what happens next. This is perhaps the only occasion in any of the Gospels where Jesus actively seeks out someone he has healed. Mostly Jesus leaves people to go their own way and do their own thing. He never seeks to persuade or cajole, and other than on this one occasion, he leaves people to find him rather than seeking them out.
What does Jesus see in this man? The man is untutored. He had been blind since birth, so was unable to read or write, and nobody would have bothered to try to teach him anything. Yet he knows so much more than the Pharisees. He's illiterate, he has no little or no book knowledge of his faith, yet he knows instinctively about God.
He has a simple faith which is not clouded or obscured by intellect, but which cuts straight to the heart of the matter. He has used his blindness so that it has become a source of strength rather than a source of weakness and dependence. Jesus is aware that this man is much closer to the Kingdom of God than the learned Pharisees. And Jesus begins to talk to him at great depth, using the man's own former blindness as an illustration of the things of God.
The author of John's gospel uses this incident to offer theological reflection on the divinity of Jesus. He uses the theme of light and darkness to show Jesus as the Light of the World. And he offers this story as the fifth sign of glory, gradually moving as his gospel progresses, closer and closer to declaring Jesus as the Saviour.
The man instinctively knows all this, for he immediately understands what Jesus is driving at. And this illiterate man leaves the Pharisees far behind, continuing in their spiritual blindness, unable and unwilling to understand Jesus or his teaching. All their rules and regulations had neatly and safely put God it into a box, and there they wanted him to stay. When God is in a box, human beings are in control. But when God is out of a box, when the Spirit is free and blows where it wills, God becomes dangerous.
It's so tempting to try to tame God. It's so tempting to try to keep God safely tucked away in Church, where he's under human control and can be suitably manipulated. But those who have eyes to see, realise that once that happens, God vanishes. Living with God, following him, keeping an open mind, is dangerous. It can lead to all sorts of unpleasant crosses, such as being expelled from polite society and the losing the regard of important officials.
But it's also wildly exciting, and richly rewarding. As the man born blind would tell you, in the end, no matter what the cost, sight is better than blindness.
When 12 year old Tim died as a result of an IRA bomb outrage in Warrington some years ago, his father Colin suddenly found himself very much involved in the Northern Ireland peace movement. Prior to his son's death Colin, like I suspect most of the rest of us, was mildly interested in peace for Northern Ireland. But after his son's death that interest became a burning zeal to do what he could to prevent the deaths of other children.
Since Diana Lamplugh's estate agent daughter Suzy disappeared without trace some 15 or 20 years ago, presumed abducted and murdered, Diana Lamplugh has been instrumental in setting up a helpline for homeless youngsters who feel threatened.
These parents are not unique. Many parents who have lost children through illness or some other cause, suddenly find themselves precipitated into doing something to prevent other youngsters suffering the same fate. And that becomes their reason for living. Most parents can immediately understand the motivation which drives such people.
So it's all the more surprising to read in this week's gospel of parents who in effect throw their son to the wolves. Their son was born blind, which in the first century must have been a terrible handicap. Presumably his parents, who must surely have given sacrificially of themselves to enable him to survive, brought him up.
When they discovered that at the age of 20 or 30 something he could see for the first time in his life, you'd have expected them to be over the moon with joy. But they don't seem at all excited, rather they seem grudging and resentful.
They seem so cowed by the Jewish authorities, that they're afraid to rejoice with their son. When the Jews ask them how their son received his sight, they do a Pilate act. They wash their hands of the whole affair, and leave their son alone to answer for himself, and to face the consequences of his answer all alone.
How could any parents act in such a way? What had happened to them, that they put their own survival above their son's? Where is that fierce, protective love experienced by parents in relation to their offspring?
Perhaps their reaction is something to do with years of guilt, years of carrying the burden that their son's blindness was due to their sin, was their fault. If you're told over and over again what a terrible person you must be, and if the evidence that proves your sin is always before your eyes, you soon forget how to hold your head high.
Human beings are fragile creatures. Cruel words and unkind deeds can soon cut away all self-confidence, so that people become crushed and unable to use their God-given gifts. And a lifetime of cruel taunts can distort and twist personality.
What comes across as so very surprising in this story, is the courage and strength and determination of the blind man. It hardly seems possible that this man is the son of those parents. Where they show weakness and craven cowardice, he shows maturity and self-confidence. He doesn't care about being thrown out of the synagogue. He doesn't care what the religious authorities think of him.
Perhaps he had never been accepted. Perhaps he had always been on the margins of society because of his blindness, and had therefore learnt a certain toughness. Perhaps he'd learnt self-reliance because he'd been thrown to the wolves all his life.
Jesus is very taken with this man. Not only does he heal him, but he's also concerned about what happens next. This is perhaps the only occasion in any of the Gospels where Jesus actively seeks out someone he has healed. Mostly Jesus leaves people to go their own way and do their own thing. He never seeks to persuade or cajole, and other than on this one occasion, he leaves people to find him rather than seeking them out.
What does Jesus see in this man? The man is untutored. He had been blind since birth, so was unable to read or write, and nobody would have bothered to try to teach him anything. Yet he knows so much more than the Pharisees. He's illiterate, he has no little or no book knowledge of his faith, yet he knows instinctively about God.
He has a simple faith which is not clouded or obscured by intellect, but which cuts straight to the heart of the matter. He has used his blindness so that it has become a source of strength rather than a source of weakness and dependence. Jesus is aware that this man is much closer to the Kingdom of God than the learned Pharisees. And Jesus begins to talk to him at great depth, using the man's own former blindness as an illustration of the things of God.
The author of John's gospel uses this incident to offer theological reflection on the divinity of Jesus. He uses the theme of light and darkness to show Jesus as the Light of the World. And he offers this story as the fifth sign of glory, gradually moving as his gospel progresses, closer and closer to declaring Jesus as the Saviour.
The man instinctively knows all this, for he immediately understands what Jesus is driving at. And this illiterate man leaves the Pharisees far behind, continuing in their spiritual blindness, unable and unwilling to understand Jesus or his teaching. All their rules and regulations had neatly and safely put God it into a box, and there they wanted him to stay. When God is in a box, human beings are in control. But when God is out of a box, when the Spirit is free and blows where it wills, God becomes dangerous.
It's so tempting to try to tame God. It's so tempting to try to keep God safely tucked away in Church, where he's under human control and can be suitably manipulated. But those who have eyes to see, realise that once that happens, God vanishes. Living with God, following him, keeping an open mind, is dangerous. It can lead to all sorts of unpleasant crosses, such as being expelled from polite society and the losing the regard of important officials.
But it's also wildly exciting, and richly rewarding. As the man born blind would tell you, in the end, no matter what the cost, sight is better than blindness.
