John 9:1-41
May 3
David A. Davis
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The man blind from birth whom Jesus sees as he walks along. The one whom Jesus heals with spit and dirt. The healed man is perhaps most remembered for saying this: “One thing I do know, that I was blind, now I see.” But what he says at the end of the chapter is much more important and is the title of the sermon. “Lord, I believe.” “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” Jesus asks all the way at the end of chapter 9. “Who is he? Tell me so that I might believe in him.” Jesus tells the man that he is the one, or in Bible-speak, “the one speaking with you is he”. “Lord, I believe” is the formerly blind man’s strong affirmation of faith. And according to John, he worshiped Jesus.
The man said, “Lord, I believe,” and John tells us, “The man worshipped Jesus.” The man’s more famous line, “one thing I do know…I was blind, now I see.” Notice he doesn’t say it to Jesus. He says it to the Pharisees. Actually, the man doesn’t say much to Jesus. Another one of these chapter-long encounters, but this time, Jesus and the main character don’t say much to each other. The man doesn’t cry out to Jesus, asking to be healed. He doesn’t acknowledge Jesus right up front with a title that would imply a faith that precedes healing. In fact, the only thing here in the beginning of the story that Jesus says to the blind man is “Go and wash in the pool of Siloam”. Jesus gives that instruction and then disappears from the page until “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”
As became clear in our presentation of the biblical text before you this morning, when it comes to John 9, all of John chapter 9, Jesus says very little. And much of what he does say (“he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him…..I am the light of the world… I came into this world for judgment so that those who do NOT see may see, and those who do see may become blind”), much of what Jesus says leaves the disciples, the Pharisees, the church, you, and me, scratching our collective heads.
Clearly, when it comes to the man born blind and the bulk of his story, Jesus has little role to play. Well, he healed him, and that’s sort of a big deal. But John spends SO much time writing about the man born blind and the neighbors and his parents and the Pharisees. The miracle, one presumes, the spit, the mud, the washing, the miracle happened in the blink of an eye! But John just goes on and on. John goes on and on telling of the man’s growing confession and understanding of Jesus. First, he knows nothing. Then, with his sight restored, he makes reference to a man named Jesus and tells the neighbors he had no idea where Jesus was. Then the man tells the Pharisees about the mud, the washing, and the seeing. “He is a prophet,” the man tells them as they demand to know what he says about the one who healed him. Then, when the Pharisees call the man now healed a second time, and as things must have started to sink in during their interrogation of him, he says, “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” Finally, after he had been driven out, Jesus goes after him and finds him, in that last exchange between the man and Jesus, he confesses faith in the Son of Man.
John goes on and on to show the man born blind’s evolving view of Jesus. Just as his brain must have had to catch up to his newfound ability to see, his heart was gradually catching on to this Jesus. The Pharisees’ reaction to Jesus healing the blind man moves in the opposite direction. First, they are divided; worried less about the healing and worried more that Jesus was working on the sabbath. Then, “we know that this man is a sinner!” And by the end, their exasperation wins out, claiming to have no idea where this man Jesus even comes from. They see less while the man born blind sees more. With his growing sight comes his expanding response to the Pharisees. With each interrogatory, his answers come with more of an attitude. “Do you also want to become one of his disciples?” Until, as John tells, they reviled him. That’s a harsh word. “They reviled him,” and “they drove him out.”
When you go over to visit the new Princeton University Art Museum, there are some paintings that are best viewed from a bit of distance. Obviously, that’s not unique to the galleries on campus. In any museum, anywhere, some art is best viewed from a distance. One New Testament scholar describes the 9th chapter of the gospel as John’s “ultimate artistry”. Preachers for more than fifty years have been taught at the seminary down the street to stand close to the biblical text. To use all the tools of biblical historical criticism to examine the text closely. To try to determine authorial intent and dig into the Greek text to find the true meaning. Pastors who identify as biblical, textual preachers were taught to invite their listeners into close reading of the text. In the case of John 9, to zero in on Jesus’ words, trying to figure out Jesus’ intended meaning at the beginning of the chapter and at the end. To dig in and try to get into the heads of the man’s parents, who were worried about those in power and those who make rules, religious power and religious rules, so worried that they would deny their own son. To stand so close to the text that you find yourself distracted by that first question about sin and blindness and the challenge of translating Jesus’ answer, so distracted that this infamous encounter with Jesus and the blind man may just become less meaningful and relevant to anyone who seeks to live the faith. So focused on a close reading of the text that one may, in fact, take away from the ultimate artistry of John.
John invites the reader to take 20, 30, 40 steps back from the artwork and look again. Take a step back, not just for an overview or a summary, like somebody in the office saying “let’s keep it at 30,000 feet”. No, take a step back for a whole other meaning. The man born blind was seeing more and more. The Pharisees were seeing less and less. And with Jesus playing the overture and the reprise, Jesus at the beginning and the end, what comes to the fore is the man born blind’s interrogation by neighbors, parents, and Pharisees; by pretty much everyone! What comes into view is the bombarding cynicism, the barrage of mistrust and questions, and the flat-out trial of the man born blind. The interrogation came not because of the miracle that gave the man sight, but because of his increasing faith in the Messiah and his growing ability to see the reign of God that Jesus brings and the world Jesus intends.
The world is interrogating faith and threatening one’s ability to see the reign of God that Jesus brings and the world Jesus intends. I had coffee this week with Kevin Sack. He is a visiting professor of journalism at Princeton University this semester and the author of the highly acclaimed book Mother Immanuel: Two Centuries of Race, Resistance, and Forgiveness in One Charleston Church. As he told me of his ten years of research, being part of the congregation, and living in Charleston, SC., he described a bit of what the church is like today. Kevin told me that for centuries, the church was a neighborhood church where everyone walked to worship on Sunday morning. He said there was only one couple who walked to church now. A retired white couple who live in an expensive condo and became members of the congregation after the tragedy. He then lamented the gentrification and the cost of living in the historic southern city. “You know we are sitting in Princeton, right?” According to the Wall Street Journal, 10% of our country’s wealthiest people account for 50% of the spending. According to Sports Illustrated, the five top college quarterbacks are making from $3 million up to $5.5 million. Few things interrogate our faith and threaten our ability to see Jesus more than what the world thinks about money.
NYTimes opinion writer David French is a Presbyterian who writes about faith often. He is more conservative theologically, a former member of the Presbyterian Church of America. A month or two ago, he wrote that the biggest divide when it comes to faith and politics no longer breaks along the traditional lines of right and left. The primary divide for those who identify as Christian in the public square is between decent and indecent. French goes on to quote the Apostle Paul on the fruits of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” The powers and principalities and leaders of the world bombarding and interrogating faith and an ability to see Jesus with an unrecognizable gospel.
Years ago, I was serving at a wine tasting in Joy Saville’s backyard. It was a fundraiser for Housing Initiatives of Princeton. The rector at Trinity and I enjoy participating as pourers at the spring event. Sometime after all the whites and early into the reds, one of the guests at a table called me over, not for a fresh pour but for a comment. “30 years I have lived in Princeton,” he announced in a loud voice, “and I have yet to find anyone who believed in the resurrection of the body!” Now there is actually a long and rich debate in theological circles, and I have had many conversations over the years about what on earth “resurrection of the body” means. But I can tell you his tone didn’t reflect a question. And with me standing there with two bottles of wine in hand and a napkin over my arm, I think the belittling intent was clear. Few things interrogate our faith more than the world’s demeaning sneer.
Saying “Lord, I believe” and yearning to see Jesus more and more isn’t easy amid the world’s relentless interrogation. So come to the Table this morning to be refreshed and nourished by Christ himself, who invites you here. Because you and I know that nourishment isn’t just for today. It is so we can rise tomorrow facing a Monday morning, saying “Lord, I believe”. And then get up on Tuesday and choose again to live by God’s grace, saying “Lord, I believe”. And on Wednesday, saying “Lord, I believe” and then heading out to witness to God’s love and mercy. On Thursday, praying that you will be able to see just a bit more of the world Jesus intends, saying “Lord, I believe”. Rising on Friday, allowing the Spirit to remind you that you are a child of God and nothing will separate you from God’s love, saying “Lord, I believe”. Come Saturday, finding a voice to speak for God’s justice, and a craving to see Jesus just a bit more, saying “Lord, I believe”.
Because when it comes to the life of faith, and our witness to the gospel, and our service to the kingdom, the world’s interrogation never stops. The world is seeing less and less, and you are seeing more and more. “Lord, I believe!”