The Rev. Clare Fischer-Davies
St. Martin's Episcopal Church
March 2, 2008
Lent 4 A
The Mother of the Man Born Blind
When he was born, we didn't know that he was blind. How could we tell? Every baby seems blind at first - don't they? Their eyes for weeks seem to look at nothing and when our son's eyes stayed empty and blank - well, for a long time we didn't worry. He had no fever; he was never sick - but one day as I looked into his little face, I realized that he could not see me - that he would never see me.
There was nothing to do about it. No potion or poultice could heal him. He was blind - and doomed to be helpless and dependent all his life.
The rabbi told us that it was because of my sin that he had been born blind - that it was my fault. But then another learned man said "No - he is blind because of his own sin" - and they have argued for years about which one of them is right. Yes - they sit in the village square and argue and argue about why my child has been born blind, neither one of them ever lifting a finger to help us.
I think they are both wrong. I can't believe that God is so cruel. Why would God punish my baby for my sin? And what could be sinful about a newborn baby? No - I stopped asking why a long time ago. It doesn't matter why. All that matters is that he was blind - and because he was blind, he grew up sullen and lazy and refused to learn a trade. He was satisfied to beg for his bread; he didn't care that he brought shame on himself and on his family.
"We do not know how it is that he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes."
That's all we're going to tell them when they summon us to the synagogue, and mostly, it's true.
We do not know how it is that he sees. Our son told us that it was the man from Nazareth who opened his eyes, the one they call Jesus. He told us a strange story about a poultice of mud and spit that Jesus made and spread on our son's eyes. He went to the pool of Siloam to wash off the mud, and when he had rinsed his eyes - they were opened - he could see.
It is a very simple story - but even though I've said those words again and again, I can't believe it. I do not know how it is that he sees. We went to a magician once, when our son was very young. We knew that the Law forbids sorcery, but we would have tried anything. That magician took our money and waved his arms and spoke some gibberish and our son stayed blind. He was beyond the help of sorcery.
I can't tell the rabbis that it was Jesus of Nazareth who opened our son's eyes. They hate him and they hate anyone who follows him, who even associates with him. They have said that anyone who listens to Jesus will be put out of the synagogue - that would bring shame upon us, worse even than having a blind beggar for a son.
I don't know what he's done to make the rabbis hate him so. They complain that he breaks the Sabbath laws, and that he has no authority to preach and teach as he does. I have heard that he calls himself "the light of the world" and says that whoever follows him will never walk in darkness.
My son no longer walks in darkness. Jesus has given him his sight.
I should be rejoicing, shouldn't I - any mother would rejoice to have her child healed. My son, whose eyes were always blank and empty, now can see. But he has no eyes for me - he cannot recognize me as the mother who gave birth to him, who nursed him and cared for him. My face means nothing to him - he does not know how I wept and prayed and finally how I resigned myself to his blindness.
He looks at me, but I am a stranger to him.
He has eyes only for Jesus. This man from Nazareth is the only person he can see and when he looks at Jesus, my son's eyes fill with a light more glorious than the sun itself. When my son looks at Jesus, it is truly as if he sees the light of the world.
"He is a prophet," my son said to us. And he will say worse than that to anyone who asks him.
If I had ever dared to dream that my son might gain his sight, then I would have dreamed that we might live like any other family - that he would come into his father's trade - that he would marry so that I could have a daughter-in-law to share the work and grandchildren to lighten my old age. I would have dreamed that we could hold our heads up and be proud of our son.
It is worse, in a way, to have a son healed from blindness and to lose him to a prophet, than it would have been to have him stay a blind beggar all the rest of his life. Do you think God is punishing me for my sin after all?
This man, Jesus, does not believe that God made our son blind because of sin. He said - he said that our son was born blind "so that God's works might be revealed in him."
God's works.
If it was not magic that healed my son, than surely it must have been God's work. But why would God restore my son's sight and then take him away from me? Why would God turn my son's newly-opened eyes away from his own mother, and fix his gaze on a religious fanatic who will only lead him to ruin and disgrace?
If I had known it would be like this, then I think I would never have dreamed of such a healing.
My son was blind and now he sees - but he as lost to me as when he begged for his bread. And tomorrow they will call up my husband and me and make us stand before the rabbis and I will have no choice but to pretend that I know nothing - that I have never heard of Jesus of Nazareth - that we do not know who opened our son's eyes.
But in my heart I will see my son as he is now - with his eyes filled with the light of the world. And I will wonder what it might take for me to see that light myself.
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