This Sunday we hear the account in John’s Gospel of Jesus healing the blind man.
‘He spat on the ground, made a paste with the spittle, put
this over the eyes of the blind man and said to him, ‘Go and wash in the Pool
of Siloam’. So the blind man went off and washed himself, and came away
with his sight restored.’
We are all familiar with the story in Genesis’ second
account of creation that the Lord formed the first man from the earth. As we
hear this account, we know that Jesus’ disciples would have been familiar with it
too. So, when Jesus bent down and created a paste from the dust on the ground the
symbolism would not have been lost on them.
This too is a moment of creation, in which the man who has
been blind from birth is made anew.
What joy he must have felt, to be made whole. And what joy
his parents must have felt – at least that’s what we would expect. But the story
tells us that they were in fear of what might happen to them if they were to acknowledge
the miracle that had taken place. They would be expelled from the synagogue –
and by extension from the community. They would not be able to work, trade, or
live with anyone that was still connected to the centre of their faith. And so,
they shrink before the questions what has happened, how and why. Even the man’s
neighbours begin to deny that this is the same man they have known all his life.
The reason lies in the other main characters in this story – the Pharisees,
who believe that this man’s blindness (indeed, any affliction suffered since
birth) must be divine retribution for the sins his parents have committed
before his birth. They cannot understand or accept this act of divine mercy,
and they deny that it has even happened. Rather than face it, and the challenge
it presents to their prejudicial attitudes, they drive him away.
In the end it seems that they are the ones who remain blind.
As I reflect on this story, there is a two-fold challenge
for me. The first is to remember that this period of Lent is not only about
repenting, but remaking. That if I seek God’s forgiveness for my failings, God’s
mercy can make me anew. Of course, seeking God’s mercy and forgiveness requires
me to own my failings and have the humility to bring them to God. It’s a good
thing that Lent is so long!
The other challenge is for me to apply the same standard to my friends and family, neighbours and colleagues. Not to be blinded by what they may have done to me, but to forgive them.
As we gather to mark the mid-point of our Lenten journey this is my prayer, Change my Heart O God, make it ever new.

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