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Apparently, in the Early Church, you could not be welcomed into the Church, through baptism, unless you were guided into the spiritual insights of the story of the Samaritan woman at the well (last Sunday’s gospel), the story of the man born blind (today’s gospel), and the story of the raising of Lazarus (next Sunday’s gospel).  Sponsors or mentors guided you into these stories, guided you out of these stories, and helped you to apply these stories to your own life. 

Isn’t that what we are supposed to be doing each time we hear God’s word—trying to come to a new consciousness, and out of that new consciousness living more faithfully as followers of Christ?  These conscious-changing stories are from the Gospel of John.  In John’s gospel, sins are not bad deeds or bad words that we regret; sin is intentional blindness.  Sin is refusing to “see” the truth even when it’s right in front of our noses.  This is something we are all guilty of. 

There is a Pharisee in all of us; I know that’s certainly true in my life.  The Pharisee in us is like the Pharisees in today’s story.  The Pharisee in us has to have things a certain way and no other way.  Reality must bend to me and not the other way around.  When I think that way, my image of God comes down to God being the “maker and enforcer of laws” rather than God who is the flow of life.  Even among the most open-minded people, there is a point of control that is near impossible to give up.  That’s the Pharisee in us.  Even when a greater truth presents itself, we will not budge in giving up our smaller, self-constructed truth.  As it says in Chapter 1 of John’s Gospel: the light came into the world, but for some reason, we preferred the darkness. 

In that same Gospel of John, John does not speak of miracles but of “signs.”  Everything that Jesus says and does is not meant to leave us at a stage of wonder or amazement.  No.  That would be low spiritual development.  Rather, we are to trace the signs to their source.  And if we do trace the signs to their source, we will find God.  We will find healing where there was once only suffering.  We will find peace where there was once only violence.  We will find joy where there was once only sadness.  We will find sight where there was once only darkness.  We will find life where there was once only death. 

This seems like a straightforward, easy path, but it is not.  It’s a walk of faith.  The mentors, the guides in the Early Church, tried to tell those wanting to join the Church that they should expect struggle.  You should expect that people will not necessarily understand why you want to be a follower of Jesus, why you want to be baptized in the first place.  You may even be kicked out of synagogue, as the man born blind in today’s gospel was.  Yet, it will all be worth it, because you will know that the little truth of your life is situated in the great Truth of God, and that Truth will set you free and bring you to life.  

The man born blind in today’s gospel, like people journeying in the R.C.I.A. process today, is tracing the signs in order to deepen his experience of God.  The sign in today’s story is that a person received sight.  But the physical restoration of this man’s sight is only the sign, not the reality.  This sign, like all signs, are meant to point us to a greater reality, so don’t stop at the sign itself. 

The question of sin comes up early in this story.  There is no sin in being born blind, nor is there any sin in having spiritual blindness, which we all have.  Blindness, whether physical or spiritual as Jesus says, is an opportunity for God’s works to be revealed.  Jesus says at the beginning of today’s gospel,“Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”

It reminds me of the 18 months I spent living with people of intellectual disabilities.  It was at the L’Arche community just north of Toronto.  Without any means of advertising, it seemed that the broken, the poor, the disabled, were able to attract people from all over the world to form a community of mutual love, support, acceptance and caring.  This young man over here could not feed himself, so I came and fed him.  This young lady over here was deaf and blind, so someone from Korea came to be her eyes and ears.  This man over here could not walk, so someone from Poland came to push him in his wheelchair and get him in and out of bed.  This person over here could not bathe herself, so someone from Germany came to give her a bath.  This one was severely paralyzed, so this young lady from France came and fed her, bathed her, dressed her, and looked after her hygienic needs.  Not out of strength, not out of recruiting professionals, not out of any means of advertising, but simply responding to human needs, people came from all over the world and formed community. 

It was nobody’s sin that brought on Down’s Syndrome, or autism, or physical or mental challenges.  Yet, God’s work was revealed in broken people who surrounded the other broken people and formed the best example of community I have ever experienced.  There were signs (“miracles” you might say) all around me.  My job was to trace the signs to the source of the signs and if I did so, I would find God as the center of it all.  That’s what I love about the man born blind.  He traced the signs and came into the light.  The Pharisees did not follow the signs—signs right in front of their noses—and spiralled deeper into darkness. 

Moving into the light, forsaking the darkness, is a slow and gradual process in all of us.  I wish it was more instantaneous but, like all forms of conversion, it’s not.  Notice the progression in the man who was healed of his blindness.  Immediately after being healed, when the Pharisees ask him how his eyes were opened, all he could say was, “A man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and told me to go wash in the pool of Siloam.”  At this stage, it’s just a “man called Jesus.”  When the Pharisees try to discredit the man’s story some more, he said about Jesus, “He is a Prophet.”  In Stage One, of coming to deeper consciousness, I know a man called Jesus; that’s it. I n Stage Two, I know this man named Jesus is a Prophet.  Here comes Stage Three.  The once-blind man says, “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”  So, he’s a man named Jesus, he’s a Prophet, and he’s from God.  Fourthly, this man concludes that Jesus is the Son of Man.  Fifthly and finally, the man says, “Lord, I believe.”  Notice his progression.  He sees a man called Jesus, who is a Prophet, who comes from God, who is the Son of Man, and who is Lord. 

By the time he gets to “Lord” he has already paid a big price.  He has been driven out of synagogue.  Although the Pharisees use police interrogation in the hopes he’ll change his story, he will not.  He now knows the Truth.  The Truth is not something we ascend to in our minds.  The Truth is an encounter with a person, the person of Jesus.  And once you know Jesus, you never want to go back. 

In the beginning, the opening lines of Genesis, God’s first act of creation was to bring light out of darkness (Gen. 1:1-5). That is what God is doing every day, including today.

Fr. Phil Mulligan