Today’s question is about questions. In fact, it’s one I, myself, have often been asked: Why do I begin my homilies with a question? You may have your own answers. But the real answer is: because I’m not good at telling jokes. You see, right at the outset, I’d like to say something that would get your attention, get you involved in what I am saying. Some homilists tell jokes. Others begin with a story. I use questions.
I use questions because we human beings seem to be designed to question almost everything. We are always asking, “Who did this? How did this happen? Why did this happen?” The Israelites living in Jerusalem some two-thousand years ago asked the same questions. Who is this person who cured a man who was born blind? How did he do it? Why did he do it on a Sabbath when work such as making clay is forbidden by God? And yet, they did not accept the answers given by the relatives and friends of the man born blind, nor even the repeated answers of the man, himself.
They saw a blind beggar. Jesus saw the inner person who could be healed to proclaim the wonders of God. However, even when the man was able to see, many continued to observe only the blind beggar. They refused to see him as “un-blind.” For them, the blind beggar still existed. They continued to believe people see only with their eyes and not with their hearts. Many failed to realize that seeing is a matter of faith, rather than of sight. Many failed to acknowledge that each one of us sees what we believe we will see and are taught through our experiences to behold the world around us. The crowds failed to realize that seeing with the heart is a matter of faith, and faith is knowing things, experiencing events, in ways beyond our direct observation of them.
There is a current movie, At First Sight, which dramatizes our need to learn about what we see in order to understand what we see. This is neither a new concept nor an unimportant one. It’s essential even in our modern world of science where it is said a researcher usually finds only that which the investigator is searching for. New, different results are often not seen because they are outside current theory. It is only with more seeing, more experiencing that the new results are allowed to modify existing theory.
In our first reading for today, we were reminded God sees things differently. God sees what is inside the person rather than only the surface. When God sent the prophet Samuel to anoint one of the sons of Jesse as the king to replace Saul, Samuel was sure God would choose the eldest son, who was tall and kingly in appearance. It was then that God reminded Samuel the Lord looks into the heart and not at the outward appearance. Having been reminded of this, perhaps, the prophet may have been expecting a small, homely boy to be brought forward when Jesse sent for David, his youngest son. But instead, Samuel saw “… a ruddy … youth, handsome to behold.” Nevertheless, the Lord instructed Samuel to anoint David as the next king of Israel.
This rush to judge a person only on one’s outward appearance was also true on that day in Jerusalem some six centuries after the anointing of David, when the crowds in the city knew the man born blind had this condition because of the unforgiven sins of his parents. It was their view, back then, that all misfortunes were the result of sins. Since a newborn child could not have sinned, any congenital abnormality must be the result of the sins of the parents.
The crowd had to learn all of us are born blind. For most of us, it is a temporary blindness. For some this condition may last a lifetime. In this condition we are blind in faith. Although we can see with our eyes, we do not see with our hearts. But we are able to see with our hearts when God removes our blindness. Faith, itself, is a gift of God given to each one of us to remove our blindness of heart.
Yes, many of us realize faith is a gift of God, just as grace is a gift of God given freely to each one of us. However, what we sometimes fail to remember is the gift of faith requires our active participation in order for it to become completely effective.
Jesus touched the man born blind. He anointed his eyes with the mixture of his own saliva and the dirt of the earth from which we came. His touch, itself, could have cured the man of his affliction but Jesus had a request. The man was to wash in the pool of Siloam. He had to make his way through the crowded streets of Jerusalem to the pool whose name means “the sent one.”
“The sent one.” A name used often in the Gospel of John for Jesus, himself. “The one sent by God.” The man born blind was sent by God to purify himself; to wash away the external mud so he could see not only with his eyes but with his heart.
Images of water and of purification are important in John’s Gospel. Not only do we have this event of the blind man and the pool of Siloam, but we begin with John’s story of the wedding feast of Cana where Jesus turned water into wine. Last week, we heard how Jesus offered the Samaritan woman “living water.” And later, during the Passion Week readings, we will hear John’s statement that when the soldier’s lance pierced the side of the crucified Jesus, blood and water poured forth. Our baptism rite makes full use of our purification by the sign of flowing, living water. The Pool of Siloam becomes a metaphor for our own baptismal pool. The pool of Siloam also becomes a metaphor for Lent, itself, a time for the washing of our souls, a time for our own purification.
Lent is a time to take responsibility for our own actions and inactions. It is a time to recognize our individual faith does not come from who we were, who our parents were, what our genetics supposedly dictate, but rather from how we respond to those challenges, how we participate with God’s gift of faith, God’s gift of internal sight.
The man born blind, once his blindness had been taken away, could recognize the stranger called Jesus, who had placed the mud on his eyes and given him the instruction to wash in the Pool of Siloam, was not a mere stranger passing by, but a prophet who spoke for God. A prophet who became a teacher with disciples. A teacher who was sent by God. Who was not only sent by God, but was the awaited “Son of Man.” Then, at last, the un-blinded faith of this man prompted him to call Jesus, “Lord!” And to worship him.
Each one of us is called to make our own journey of faith, to recognize the stranger who touches us is the Lord of all creation. However, unless we continue to cooperate in the growth of our faith, we, like the Pharisees, may claim to have sight but, in fact, we remain blind. However, once we undertake this journey, we like the man who is no longer blind, we, too, may be cast out from our former community, from the modern world which sees only the surface, materialistic commodities surrounding us and not the inner qualities of our humanity. Each one of us is sent by God to wash in the Pool of Siloam. Each one of us needs to see with the eyes of faith, the eyes of faith given to us by God, but which may have been covered, not with the anointing mud of Jesus the Christ, but rather with the dirt and slime of the world around us.
Now, during the remaining days of Lent, now is the time to wash away this mud so our own brightness can show forth. Now is the time to recall the words we heard from St Paul today: “Brothers and sisters: you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light, for light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.” Jesus told his disciples, “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” Now that he no longer walks the streets of Jerusalem, he has left us to be his light as, together, we continue our journey with him and the Holy Spirit of the living God.
Fourth Sunday of Lent; March 14, 1999
1 Sam 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Eph 5:8-14; Jn 9:1-41