One of my favorite things about the disciples of Jesus is how frequently they mess up. The gospel stories are, presumably, the highlights of the life and ministry of Jesus, including the stories about his friends that stood the test of time. And yet they are not always the most flattering portrayals! Peter, most famously, is always putting his foot in his mouth about something or other, and he falls out of a boat more than once, and—spoiler alert—he denies being associated with the crucified Jesus in the immediate aftermath. But he’s also the rock Jesus chooses to build the church upon, the cornerstone of early Christianity. It is not always those most outwardly qualified for bringing about the reign of God who are invited to do it.
This morning’s gospel story, about a man born blind, is no exception.
I am a voracious reader, and every once in a while my reading manages to line up really successfully with other goings-on in my life, and this season of Lent is a perfect example. I have been reading a really excellent book by a scholar named Amy Kenny, called My Body is Not a Prayer Request: Disability Justice in the Church.
Dr. Kenny is a disabled woman and her book—well, at least the first half of it that I have read so far—is about reclaiming the prevailing understanding of disability as something to be pitied, cured, whispered about, openly reviled, and discriminated against and replacing that with what Jesus says disability is: “a method for revealing the living God to the community.”
Right off the bat, in the beginning of our story this morning, our astute disciples ask, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2). It’s noteworthy that they are not asking if sin is the cause of this man’s blindness, but are assuming that that must be the case and are just wondering whose sin, exactly, is to blame.
This was the prevailing understanding at the time, and the association of sin and disability meant that scores of disabled people were excluded from the temple because of their presumed sinful state. The whole life of the community was centered in the temple, and so they were not permitted to participate in any of it—in worship, or commerce, or government, or even basic human interaction and fellowship.
Whether they were, like this man, born blind, or had limited use of their limbs, or were unable to speak or hear, or lived with any other disability, they were excluded on that basis. But Jesus—as usual—steps in to show another way of looking at things. “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” he says, “he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him” (John 9:3). Every person bears the image of God in their created body.
It should be noted that just like our unnamed Samaritan woman from last week, the man born blind is not named in this story, either. Just as she was not afforded the dignity of being named, this marginalized man is also identified only by that which makes him “other” than the rest of his community.
Chapter one of Dt. Kenny’s book is centered on this man’s story, and she has a lot to say. Dr. Kenny writes that “Jesus inverts their idea of blindness by showing the disciples that disability becomes a place of encounter with the glory of God. Jesus interacts with [the man born blind] directly, talking not just about him but to him and with him.
According to Jesus, [the man’s] blindness didn’t result from his or his parents’ sin, but instead his blindness displays God. What a powerful, subversive statement: disability helps reveal the light of the World.”
How exactly? I’m glad you asked.
When I previously read this story, I assumed that the miracle is the restoration of sight to the man born blind, and that Jesus is revealing God’s power by making this drastic physical change in the life of this person. But Dr. Kenny’s interpretation really challenged me, suggesting that that is merely one piece of this puzzle. Part of what leads her to this understanding is that most of the story happens after the spit and mud on the eyes moment, and there is a lot of action between Jesus, the religious authorities, the man born blind, his parents, and every nosy neighbor in town.
“If it were just about the physical cure,” Dr. Kenny suggests, “the story would end after verse 7 when he reemerges from the pool, able to see.” But since you listened to me read verses 1-41, not just 1-7, you know that that’s not what happens!
What Jesus gives this man is not just his physical sight, but a richer understanding of himself as a child of God, and a reconnection to his community. Just like the more-than-physical-water Jesus offered the Samaritan woman at the well in last week’s story, there is a broader transformation at work here.
The ministry of Jesus, and the work of his disciples before and after his death, contains dozens of healings. These healings are not only physical changes, but spiritual changes and communal changes. “Jesus’s healing is not purely about a physical alteration but about reestablishing right relationship between humanity and God, and, hopefully, between individuals and community.”
The man born blind receives a miraculous restoration of his sight, the story tells us. In response, he tells everyone who will listen—including some curious local authorities—all about the man, Jesus, who wields the power of God.
The local authorities are hung up on the “how” of the whole situation—which our modern sensibilities can identify with, frankly—but they fixate not on the transformation of this person, but the assumption that this change happened in an inappropriate manner. Jesus healed him on the sabbath, when work is not permitted, and so must not be from God—because surely someone from God would follow the law to the letter. “But others said,” we read in verse 16, “‘how can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?’” While some are trying to pin unholiness on Jesus, these community members are doing the opposite—citing this miracle as proof that Jesus is who they have heard him to be.
This argument goes back and forth for quite some time, and many opinions are sought. I hear the exasperation—and the courage—in verse 27, when the man born blind responds to the investigation by saying. “‘I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” *chef’s kiss*
This transformation in his life has called him out of his exclusion, away from the margins, right into the main event. God’s work in the world, embodied by Jesus, now also includes the life and testimony of this man.
Dr. Kenny writes that the man born blind “received a physical cure in the beginning of John 9 when he emerged from the pool able to see, but his true healing does not occur until much later in the chapter, when he declares, ‘Lord, I believe,’ and worships Jesus (9:38). That’s the moment he is restored through a conversation with the living God and is able to reach the place of worship he’s been excluded from.”
Over and over, Jesus is inviting unexpected people to be part of his work in the world. He is not calling those who sit at the top of hierarchies, those with the most power and prestige, those who seem, at face value, to be the best recruits. He invites the uninvited, the ignored, the overlooked, the deliberately excluded.
Previously, the man born blind would not have been able to worship in the temple with his neighbors, because of that pesky assumption of sin the disciples were asking about earlier. Now, empowered by God to proclaim his faith in the Son of Man, he is called and sent—just like his fellow apostles.
His story is just as mundane and everyday as theirs, in some ways. They were just a ragtag crew of fishermen, remember? They wrangled a tax collector into their ranks, and who could forget the camel-hair-wearing, locust-and-wild-honey-eater, John the Baptizer! They have women among them, even! These are not the cream of the crop, socially. But that’s exactly why Jesus calls them his friends and sends them out to proclaim the coming reign of God to the ends of the earth. They are people, just as you and I are people, called out of their humble circumstances, to tell the truth about who God is and who we are.
Whatever your body can or cannot do, you are a beloved child of God and a disciple of Jesus the Christ.
Whatever your mind can or cannot do, you are a beloved child of God and a disciple of Jesus the Christ.
Whatever anyone has said or done to exclude you or harm you or discourage you from this truth, you are still a beloved child of God and a disciple of Jesus the Christ.
Whether it feels like you have any idea what you are doing, you are a beloved child of God and a disciple of Jesus the Christ. Amen.