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Sunday’s Gospel is about the cure of a blind man—and about the blindness of those who think they can see.
The story is set on the Sabbath. Jesus makes clay with his own saliva (what an earthy detail!) and sends the blind man to wash in the “Pool of Siloam.” When he comes back Jesus is not there anymore, but the man’s sight is! Confusion reigns among the bystanders. “This can’t be the blind guy that used to sit and beg. No, it is someone else. But it looks like him.” And so on.
They drag him to the Pharisees, and now confusion conquers all. “The law says thou shall keep the Sabbath holy,” one Pharisee says. “Look at the facts. This Jesus fellow pretended to work a miracle on the Sabbath day. Therefore he is a sinner and cannot have come from God.” Another finishes the thought, “. . . so he certainly could not work a miracle!” They make up an ultimate rule for themselves: “Anyone who now can see must always have been able to see!”
“Let’s get proof,” they say. “His family knows he was never blind.” They run to the parents, who reply without much interest that their son certainly was born blind. Ouch.
The Pharisees run back with a new strategy. They pretend that they believe in the man’s cure and are fascinated by it. Their cynical question echoes through the streets. “How did this Jesus accomplish such a wonderful miracle?” The man’s tart reply is: “I told you already and you did not listen. Do you need to hear it again? Or is it that you want to be his disciples, too?” The Pharisees are outraged and they begin insulting the man.
Why are these Pharisees so impassioned? Because they will lose their power and their wealth and their control if Jesus actually has divine power. He will take over. They have to blind themselves to the truth, or else.
What is the truth?
It is simple. Jesus has given depth of sight to a man born blind. In this, the works of God have been made seeable. This is why the man was blind in the first place, Jesus tells us. Does the man accept this? “I do believe, Lord,” he says.
His heart had been healed, in addition to his physical eyes.
Who can see and understand such a thing? Not the Pharisees. Not you or me if we are protecting our place in the world. Surely we would act the same way, given the chance. The Pharisees lusted for control over others, for respect and self-will. What if Jesus had put spittle on their souls and they suddenly had beheld the blind man seeing? They would have accepted the miracle, and the works of God.
And that is why this long story is presented during Lent, the time of preparation. You and I will behold a still greater healing at Easter, and we need to start washing out our eyes to see it. Jesus himself will suffer the world’s blindness and will die from it. And get this. The world, by killing him, will be healed from death and suffering, from hatred and fear, cured by an event that seems to be nothing but hatred itself. Jesus descends into darkness in order to open our eyes to a love that is stronger than darkness.
Fr. John Foley
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