The web site was entitled “Good news/Bad news for a Pastor”—I
couldn’t resist checking it out. The good news, the site announced, was
that you, Pastor, baptized seven people today in the river just like John the
Baptist—the bad news is that you lost two of them in the swift current.
The good news, pastor, is that Mrs. Jones is wild about your sermons—the
bad news is that Mrs. Jones is also wild about “The Gong Show”, “Beavis
and Butthead” and “Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” The good news,
pastor, is that church attendance rose dramatically the last three weeks—the
bad news is that you were on vacation. Much of life seems to be filled with
some peculiar variation of good news/bad news—where the realities of the
world as we see or experience it are never quite what we expect them to be—and
while we may see some humor in the disconnect between what we think we know
and what the true reality is —there is often more frustration and pain
then laughter.
In our first lesson for today the prophet Samuel is given the good news by God that he has been chosen to anoint a new king for Israel —the bad news is that the old king isn’t dead yet and the choice before Samuel is going to be the least likely and youngest choice imaginable. In our gospel lesson for today the good news is that a blind man receives his sight—the bad news is that at first no one believes that the miracle actually happened. The good news is that the people seem to trust their religious leaders enough to want them to investigate the healed man and miracle—the bad news is that the religious leaders also doubt that any miracle occurred. But the good news is that the healed man’s parents vouch for the fact that he was born blind and now can see—the bad news is that the parents fear the religious inquisition and insist that their son speak for himself. The good news is that the religious community invites the healed man into their fellowship to testify concerning the one who performed the miracle—the bad news is that the healed man proclaims a religious truth too great for the community to accept and he is cast out—excommunicated. The good news is that Jesus comes to the healed man a second time with an invitation to live a new life of faith and discipleship—the bad news is that that same gift is denied those who close their eyes to it.
Most of us have no difficulty in understanding the basics of this story presented as our gospel lesson for today. The many ways in which people see and do not see are highlighted in the story of a miracle that is far more than just that of a blind man getting his sight. Who sees what about the power of God and the identity of Jesus swirls through the story—and whether we are encountered by this text as good news or bad news depends a great deal on who we identify with in the story. The story begins like any other day with Jesus and his disciples walking along and encountering the normal street population of the day—tired folks—busy folks —the employed and the unemployed—the healthy and the not so whole. It happens that the question is asked concerning a blind man “Who sinned,” comes the question, “this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” It is a question of what is called theodicy—a question about sin and evil in the world—A question asked in a manner that reflected a popular understanding that one’s condition in the world was a product of God’s judgment. A serious physical problem was believed to be a sign of some grave failing or sin in either your ancestors or yourself. We are not immune to such thinking—whether it is assessing the education system or reforming the welfare system—addressing environmental issues or explaining world hunger—we are usually drawn to solutions that hold someone or something accountable at least as a major source of the problem that now needs to be remedied. The too common approach to almost any problem or disaster of our human condition is to look for some cause, source or explanation external to ourselves. We have reached the point that even suffering caused by the volatility of the economy or what used to be called accidents of nature are grounds for various types of legal proceedings that assign guilt and fiscal responsibility. Jesus suggests that such mechanistic or legalistic explanations fail to grasp the richness of God’s world and the power of the God who created it. God does not cause bad things to happen to good people because of something they did wrong or because they are sinful—there are probably as many explanations for the disasters and evils of our world as there are people in the world. What matters, Jesus said, is not the question why—that is a question for those who need to place blame and assess some type of guilt or responsibility—our modern world loves the question of who to blame but it rarely produces any solution other then granting some temporary financial return and maybe a sense of superiority over “winning” a legal case. Jesus said the real question is, “Where will God be found in this moment?”
That question is actually based or grounded in a profound faith statement that most of us have difficulty making—that God is involved in every moment—actively involved. We have difficulties making this affirmation because we generally do not want to see God in the struggles of a man born blind—or a dying cancer patient—or the death of a terrorist attack victim. We are more likely to talk of God’s absence—of the need to bring God to this moment—but Jesus said our problem is seeing God present and active in the places where we least look for or expect God. One approach to our lessons for today—to our worship experience every Sunday—is to look and listen for that which will let us see Jesus—encounter our God. The religious leaders of Jesus’ day had long ago determined the times and places for encountering the divine —and Sabbath observance had become a primary point of contact—but always within proper categories of faith and life—nothing unexpected or unexplainable—nothing like a miracle of healing on the Sabbath—the blind needed to be worshipping God not being healed on the Sabbath Encounters with God were not something that happens on the street—faith and worship belonged in the chapel. The religious leaders in our lesson struggled to make sense of the miracle and the enthusiastic faith response of the healed man. I recognize this struggle.
I find myself identifying with the feelings that Richard Lischer compares to those of the Pharisees in our lesson when he recounts one of the pillars of his congregation stopping by to tell him that he had been “born again.” “What?” Lischer said. “Yes,” came the reply, “Last week I visited my brother-in-law’s church, the Running River of Life Tabernacle, and I don’t know what it was, but something happened, and I’m born again.” “You can’t be born again,” Lischer replied, “You’re a Lutheran. You’re the Chairman of the Board of Trustees.” We have established our right and wrong ways to meet God much like the religious leaders of ancient times—we may have different categories but the results are the same—God in a box—one that we have made based on where God fits into our world and lives. Then the telephone rings—it is one of my teenage sons announcing—“Okay, listen dad, the good news is that no one got hurt.” After a moment of uncertainty and a few further questions about why this should be good news to me I find at least a part of me giving thanks to God for their safety—and this God moment does not depend on my understanding or expectations or anticipations. This is a faith moment given by God.
Such is one purpose for the story of a blind man receiving his sight—to remind us that Christ comes to us—comes to us! The religious community repeatedly reminded the man that he was sinful—deserving of no special treatment—but the man already knew that. In an age of new terrors and old fears most of us don’t need to be reminded of the fallen state of humanity—the challenge is more of our own standing in the world. The good news is that we live in a very special corner of the world—the bad news is that the rest of the world does not live as well as we live. The good news is that we easily think of ourselves as favored by God above other people—the bad news is that that view of God and ourselves is so wrong. It is tempting to ask what sin the rest of the world committed—to suggest that if the rest of the world only worked as hard as we work or was a good as we are—that God would bless them too.
Maybe the blindness is not in the suffering of another but in our limited vision When I was in seminary studying for the ministry I lived two years in the dorm—in one of the rooms next to mine lived Dave. Dave had been blind since birth. He was a very bright student—and a very gifted musician—especially on the piano and organ. In those days there were no portable keyboards. Dave had a small electronic organ in his dorm room—he would play amazing things—but as happens in graduate school—late night studies often blurred time so that we would work sometimes all day and through the night. More than once Dave would take a break from studying and begin to play—play loudly—I would bang on his door, “Dave”, I would yell. “Do you know what time it is? It’s three o’clock.” “Three?” he would yell back. “How can you be sleeping at three in the afternoon?” “Dave,” I would yell back, “it’s three AM.” The music would stop for a moment and then He would begin again playing “Oh What a Beautiful Morning”.
We see—we do not see—the possibilities of the moment for God to be known Jesus suggests we consider the greater question. What good—what grace—would God reveal through us. The blind man never asked for a miracle—although certainly he must have once hoped that such would happen—we are, after all, creatures of hope—created to believe beyond ourselves—sometimes we limit our hopes to those things that we can explain or define. But God would open us to greater possibilities—a miracle of healing actually limits God —it is like our modern minds engaging in an occasional fantasy about winning the power ball millions—knowing all the well that such is just not likely to ever happen—but grace goes much further—grace stretches faith to look not at the realities we would surround ourselves with—but with the resources of God’s blessings. They had been married for 42 years—He died suddenly and unexpectedly. The family and congregation surrounded her in her grief. It was maybe four years later that we were talking one time and she suddenly turned the conversation to her faith. “It was hard losing someone you love that much,” she said. “I never realized how great a gift love was until it was gone. At first I thought I would never know love again—but I think God wanted me to discover that love has no limit. In the midst of all the pain and death I came to understand that nothing can destroy love. Grief is hard, but the love is greater. But you know that, don’t you Pastor,” she said with a smile.
Good news/bad news—sometimes we have difficulty seeing
the good news—reality is like that. The grace that would be God’s
miracle is ours to share in. The blind man given sight at first cannot even
identify Jesus except by name—but in the course of his struggles to name
his miracle he discovers something far deeper—the presence of God within—the
power of Christ inviting him into a new role of discipleship—new roles
of worship and praise—of giving his whole self to follow that which he
at one time could not even see. There is plenty of bad news in the world—but
there is also the good news. Here in this little corner of God’s great
creation there is the unlimited possibility of the good news of grace—Christ
giving us new eyes to see the bounty of blessings—and the power of using
those gifts to God’s glory. 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.” The bad news is that there are many forms of blindness in our world—the
good news is that Christ grants the grace of sight to all who will open their
eyes.
Amen.