Something I’ve learned over time is how maintaining relationships takes constant, deliberate work. It’s worth the effort, of course, but when that work isn’t done, relationships begin to drift apart. I’ve had close friends from grade school, high school and beyond, some from workplaces, who I’ve just drifted from once various things in life changed, making it difficult to maintain those connections.
All relationships struggle when one doesn’t put in the constant effort to get to know and understand the other. It’s seen in friendships when the lives of each go off in different directions. It’s found in families, between siblings or a parent and child when they don’t keep up with each other’s lives. It’s experienced even in marriages when a couple, once very much in love, become strangers to one another. But its saddest of all when disciples drift apart from God, feeling they don’t know him, and when that happens, God’s power, goodness and presence is questioned and faith lacks the strength needed to affirm hope when the worries of the world confront.
Some don’t know God because, in their youth, God remained a subject to study at school instead of a person to get to know. They may know all kinds of facts about God, can rhyme off the Sacraments and the Fruits of the Holy Spirit or even be familiar with the lives of many saints, but aren’t so certain about what’s in the heart of God. Others might not know God because our Catholic faith was presented as just a bunch of rules and laws to follow and didn’t have anything to do with friendship with Jesus or maybe they were told simply that God is love and there’s nothing more needed. I’ve heard of a few who have thought God was dull and boring and bad because their experience of church community was dull, and boring and bad.
The result is disciples who feel a great distance between themselves and God, that God is just too far away to be interested in friendship or that we are too far beneath him for friendship to be possible. It becomes difficult to find joy in faith, and easy to be like the Pharisees we heard about in today’s Gospel, who were unable to celebrate the miraculous healing of a man born blind.
You have to feel bad for the Pharisees. They worked hard to follow the Jewish law, but to a fault. The law became their saviour instead of God. So, when miracles happened all around them, they took offence instead of finding cause for joy. Obviously, we want to be more like the man born blind and experience the kind of joy he must have felt on recognizing the Saviour. But first, the unnamed man had to go through a kind of journey.
The story began with a man unable to see anything at all. He knew he was physically blind and knew healing could only come by trusting in the power of someone greater than himself. At the prompting of Jesus, he took a risk, the blind man trusted enough to give up his begging, time needed to hopefully receive what was needed to sustain himself, to go and wash in the pool of Siloam. There, he regained his sight.
But his healing wasn’t yet complete. The miracle attracted the attention of others who wondered about the healer. When asked, “…how were your eyes opened?”[i], the healed man credited, “The man called Jesus…”[ii]. At this point, he perceives Jesus simply as, ‘a man’: not a friend, definitely not the Saviour, just a regular guy.
Instead of being happy for the healed man and celebrating the obvious miracle, the Pharisees argued and were divided about Jesus. They pressured the previously blind man to break their stalemate who announced about Jesus, “He is a prophet.”[iii] By relating how Jesus had changed his life, the vision of the heart of the healed man began to clear, he grew to know Jesus a little better, enough to recognize that Jesus was no longer just some man, but at least a prophet. But his journey of healing would continue.
The healed man was pressured to denounce Jesus, forcing him to reflect on his relationship with Jesus. There could be no middle ground, the formerly blind man replied with a challenge, “Do you also want to become his disciples?”[iv] The heart of the man born blind realized, Jesus was more than a man or prophet but someone worth following. This realization came with a cost, however. As a disciple, a follower of Jesus, the man was cast out of the community.
We can imagine the fears and sadness that undoubtedly weighed on the man at this point. But his divide from the community created space for God to continue working. The eyes of his heart opened, allowing Jesus to draw close so the healed man could finally recognize that Jesus is not just a man or a prophet or someone worth following but the one to worship.
We all want to see God as clearly as the man born blind did by the end of this Gospel. We want to offer the Saviour true worship and witness him miraculously at work. But sometimes the eyes of our hearts are clouded and Jesus becomes difficult to spot. We need healing. The progression found in the heart of the man born blind offers a path each of us may take as we seek healing for any blindness found in our own hearts.
So first, we admit our own blindness. The man born blind was quick to admit what he didn’t know. He admitted he didn’t know how Jesus did what he did and he admitted to Jesus he didn’t know who the Messiah was. Through that honesty, he could hear the voice of Jesus. Disciples might also hear the voice of Jesus by humbly admitting our own need for healing.
Next, the man born blind was eager to follow the directions, the commands, of the Saviour. When prompted, he went to wash in a pool of water and from that simple act his physical eyes were opened. Disciples might seek out God’s healing by becoming familiar with what God wants from them.
When he could, the healed man courageously shared with others what Jesus had done for him. Through that testimony, he realized Jesus was more than a man. Disciples who reflect on how God has worked in their lives, guiding, healing and protecting, realize how unique Jesus truly is.
Finally, the man accepted the cost of discipleship, of following Jesus. This is the hardest part for us because there is a cost to being a disciple. For the man born blind, it meant being tossed out of the synagogue community; for us it may mean uncomfortable dinner conversations with family and friends; it may mean speaking unpopular truths or publicly revealing our faith. The cost is worth it, however; it creates space for Jesus to approach, reveal himself and for us to give him worship.
You and I are invited to personally know God, to be intimate friends with him. Friends of God know he’s looking out for them. Those who see God trust he’s guiding them and those who search for God know he’s working in their lives. Wanting that, we are happy to admit our need or healing, announce what he’s done for us and accept the cost of discipleship.
God of all, send to us your Holy Spirit to touch our hearts so our eyes would be truly opened to recognize your works and signs. May we realize the presence of Your Son, the great healer, in whom we entrust all we have and are. In his name we offer all our prayers. Amen.
[i] John 9:10 NRSVCE
[ii] John 9:11 NRSVCE
[iii] John 9:17 NRSCVE
[iv] John 9:27 NRSVCE
