Now I see
“There
was darkness over the deep.” As aircraft and ships comb the southern Indian
Ocean for the remains of the missing Malaysian plane, these words from the
opening of the book of Genesis come to mind. All the technology available to us
today is being stretched to find evidence that can explain what happened. But,
as of today, we are in the dark.
We
are told we know less about the Indian Ocean floor than we know of the surface
of the planet Venus. It is as hidden from us as the everyday world is from a
blind man. The man of John, Chapter 9, was born blind. So he had no idea of colours
or shapes, sunlight or oil lamps. He was so used to his condition that he does
not even ask to be cured.
Jesus
cures him, as he did other blind people in the gospels, but here this is only
the beginning. What happens after the cure is what grips our attention. He is
asked about it and says, “a man called Jesus” (a common name in that country)
“made a paste and daubed my eyes and said ‘go and wash.’ I went and now I see.”
But
it was a sensation and people weren’t satisfied and pursued the matter, asking
more questions and prompting the man to say, “He is a prophet.” But they are
still not prepared to leave the man in peace. They take him to the authorities
who question him further. When they don’t get the answer they want they “drive
him out.” But it doesn’t seem to bother him. He meets Jesus again and
recognises who he really is and worships him.
We
have a sense of a man transformed by his experience. No longer a poor blind
beggar, it is not difficult to imagine him as a courageous member of the early church
teaching others about Jesus and the light and courage he gives. It is a
template for countless similar experiences in history. Ignatius of Loyola, in
his time of painful searching, sat down by a river one day and “the eyes of his
understanding began to be opened and he understood and knew many things.”
The
searchers of the southern ocean are like people standing before a closed door.
And we all stand before closed doors much of the time. The man born blind
pushed on that door and was given the gift we call faith. In the darkness that
we live, where we face so many “unknowns”, this is the one known on which we
can rely. But it is a gift that cannot be acquired by our own efforts alone.
I
hope they will find that black box (it is actually orange) on the sea bed.
30 March 2014 Sunday
4 of Lent A
I Sam 16:1-13 Eph
5:8-14 John 9:1-41
