Readings

I wonder what our gracious Lord might have for us in today’s readings. Our Gospel tells of Jesus healing a blind man—and explores what it means to be blind or to see. Towards the end of the story:

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.”

How do these Pharisees become blind? Not by God’s action or choice. Jesus heals the man. The Pharisees interrogate him repeatedly, but finally discount his testimony. That Jesus healed the man on the Sabbath was probably a factor. God had spoken to Moses: “Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy” (Ex 20:8). What the Pharisees tended to forget: their traditions were governing their understanding of what that commandment meant. So as they interrogate their position hardens and they finally drive out the one person in the room who can see.

Is that story only (safely!) about the Pharisees? Probably not. Consider our first lesson. The prophet Samuel has been around the block more than a few times. As a prophet his record is unblemished. Yet here he is, about to anoint Eliab. “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature… for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” So the Lord has to intervene, and Samuel, thankfully, listens.

The categories sighted and blind turn out to be less stable than we’d like. Using different images Paul develops that in our second reading: “Once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light.” “You are light. Live as children of light.” That only needs to be said if it’s possible to live otherwise—and Paul’s letters are as lengthy as they are because we so often choose to live otherwise.

And then: “Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord.” Don’t assume that you know. To pick up our Gospel’s language, don’t assume that you can see. It’s one of the more surprising admonitions in Ephesians. The letter’s recipients have the Law, the Prophets, the other Writings. Most of the books that make up our New Testament are in circulation. But “Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord.” What’s going on?

Perhaps at least two things.

First, there’s this really interesting tension between the testimony in Hebrews (“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” [13:8].) and the voice from the throne in Revelation (“See, I am making all things new” [21:5].) God works in time, and time can open new opportunities. “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” (Gen 1:27). We read that for centuries and restricted the priesthood to males—until God saw an opportunity to shove us onto a new path.

The second, and related thing: as one contemporary writer put it, “we see things not as they are, but as we are.” We see things not as they are, but as we are. Meanwhile, the New Testament understands that our discipleship is a lifelong process of transformation. Jesus in the Gospel according to John: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth” (16:12-13). Paul to the Romans: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God– what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom 12:2).

Sometimes this transformation is welcome. I’d guess that the apostle Peter welcomed being able to channel Jesus’ power to restore mobility to the man crippled from birth at the gate of the Temple. Sometimes not. Peter in response to the vision preparing him to preach to Gentiles: “By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean” (Acts 10:14). There’s Peter at the precipice, with the Pharisees: “We see.” Fortunately, he lets himself be persuaded (the vision is repeated twice), so that later he can confess “I truly understand that God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34).

Transformation: sometimes welcome, sometimes unwelcome. So there’s this completely natural tendency to assume at some point that enough’s enough. After all, we’re grownups. We’ve learned what we need. There’s nothing more that’s important that we need to learn. And that sets us up to be right there with Samuel, about to anoint Eliab, right there with the Pharisees, about to silence the one voice they really need to hear. It’s easy to see this playing out among Christians with whom we disagree; we’re confident it isn’t playing out among us.

“If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.” Is Jesus’ power to heal limited by our responses? Sometimes. Here’s Mark’s description of Jesus in his hometown: “And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief” (6:5-6a). So I’m encouraged by that line in today’s psalm: “Surely your goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life.”

Or, as another psalm testifies:

⁸ If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
⁹ If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
¹⁰ even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night,”
¹² even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you. (Ps 139:8-12)

How does God do this? In many ways. In today’s Gospel, through the man born blind to whom the Pharisees really don’t want to listen. “Are you trying to teach us?” To whom do we not want to listen? It might be God trying to get a word in edgewise.

Dear People of God—as the invitation to Lent puts it—our stance is too often “The Lord is my Shepherd, my vision is 20/20, I know who not to listen to.” Lent is a time to wonder about that.