Once I Was Blind

My days used to be spent sitting at either the entrance to the market place or outside one of the gates of the Temple. I would recite prayers, psalms, and portions of the Holy Scriptures. A simple clay bowl sat next to me into which some who took notice of me would drop a coin. The motivation of those giving a pittance of their good fortune varied. Some hoped to gain favor from God through their generosity to one less fortunate than themselves. Some gave out of a sense of duty. Still others gave out of a feeling of guilt; thinking that some trouble they were experiencing was the result of their lack of concern for the poor. Sometimes I would also receive a loaf of bread and some cheese. Occasionally some truly generous person would give me a little meat and some wine. But I also would be scorned and told to be quiet by those who considered my condition a curse from God. For them I was unclean, and tainted their environment with unholiness. Surely, they would say to their friends, my parents must have committed some terrible sin to have been given a son born blind. And I must certainly carry the stain of that sin like some plaque they feared being infected with.

That was my life, if you can call such an existence life. Constantly dependent on the kindness and generosity of others. Unable to make my way without the arm of another to lean upon. Incapable of earning an honest income from the labor of my hands. I was an unwanted child and a burden on society. My plight had the effect of causing both the humble and the arrogant to give thanks to God that they were not like me. The former considering their state to be one of grace, the latter considering theirs to be a sign of privilege. The wealthy and the priests were quite certain that their condition was an indication by God that they were special and favored by Him. Conversely they were equally convinced that my condition meant that God disliked me. Therefore they concluded that being nice to me would appear to shame God. For this reason even good men often passed me by, rather than risk incurring disfavor with God.

As for me, I did not think of myself as cursed of God. I really believed that I had been given a special place in His grand plans. I thought of what King David said in the psalms about how God knows the name of every star. In my heart and soul I believed that one so great also knew my name. And having a place in the mind of God means also having a place in His heart. That is why I ignored those who scorned me, and continued to believe in the God who hears the cries of His children. He heard us crying in Egypt and saved us. He heard us crying in Babylon and saved us. Even now, the cries of one small child of His sitting outside His Temple in His city would not go unnoticed. So I sat outside the Temple every Sabbath and waited for Him to come and set me free. And one day He did.

It seemed to me to be a Sabbath like any other. There were many more sounds around me owing to the great multitudes of worshipers, vendors, and animals. But there was also an energy light that of lightning before an approaching storm. The very air seemed to be more alive and vibrant. Then I sensed something in my heart. Something I could not explain. As I sat waiting for what I knew not, I heard a voice ask the usual question; "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents?" My breathing seemed to halt as I awaited the answer.

"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," replied the Rabbi, but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." (John 9:3-5 NIV)

Joy filled my heart. This Rabbi was different from all the others. He did not believe my blindness was a result of sin. Instead, he said what I had always believed; that God would use my condition to further His work. I was not cursed, but blessed, because God had chosen me to display his greatness to the world.

"God's peace," the peaceful voice spoke in my ear. "I am going to put some mud on your eyes. Then you must go to the Pool of Siloam and wash it off. Do you agree?"

Speechless, I nodded my affirmation. Then I felt gently hands rubbing something smooth and warm on my closed eye lids. Once that was done, a friend who had been sitting with me helped me to stand. Without another word from the good Rabbi, I set off for the Pool of Siloam. When I got there my friend helped me to kneel by the Pool so that I could wash my eyes. The cool water made my eyes tingle. They felt strangely alive; it was a feeling I had never experienced. And after the I was certain I has washed all of the mud away, I opened my eyes.

Oh the glory and wonder and joy! I cannot find the words to describe the feeling that swept over me. I could see for the first time in my life. The sun reflecting off the Pool. The faces of those standing around. The look of wonder and amazement on the face of my friend. The things most people take for granted were an unexpected and marvelous gift to one who was experiencing them for the first time in his life.

After kneeling there on the spot and offering thanks and praise to God, I went home. When I arrived, my neighbors we quite amazed. "How then were your eyes opened," they demanded.

"The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see." (John 9:10-12 NIV)

As I and many of my neighbors praised God and marveled that He had sent this man to come among us to do wonders, the Pharisees were angry. They said that because this thing had been done on the Sabbath the man must not be from God. But I reasoned that no man could give sight to one born blind unless he truly came from God. For that, the called me a sinner, and threw me out of the synagogue.

Having God in my mind, and my heart, and my soul, I do not need to go to the synagogue or the Temple to worship Him. I worship Him now by the way I live my life. I work with my hands earning my own way, and helping others less fortunate that me. And I worship Him by telling others what this Jesus did in His name. I know that the priests and Pharisees hate me for this, but it is God's love that matters. The Pharisees can believe what the will, but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord. (Joshua 24:15)

May His name be praised now forever. Amen.

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