Cliff Loesch March 2, 2007 John 9:1-11 (1-41) The Wonder of Sight      Several hundred years before Jesus lived on earth, the philosopher, Plato, wrote a little story about prisoners bound inside a cave.  The prisoners were tied up in chairs facing the far wall of the cave and their heads were bound so that they could not look from side to side, but only straight ahead of them at the wall.  Behind them-and above them-up on a ledge there was a fire burning that gave just a little light into the dark cave.  In front of the fire, a group of walkers would walk back and forth and they carried different objects high above their heads so that there would be some shadows cast on the wall of the cave.  So the prisoners sitting there, down below, tied up in those chairs, would see dim shadows of all kinds of objects in front of them: chairs, tables, goblets, even animals.  The prisoners believed that these shadows on the wall were the real objects.  It's all they knew.  They had never seen the real thing.  For them, the shadows were reality.  Inside this dark cave, there was also a path that went under the ledge with the fire that went outside into the sunlight.  Plato asks what would happen if you loosed the bonds of a couple of the prisoners and led them all the way outside into the light?  Well, at first their eyes would hurt because they are unaccustomed to the brightness.  They would be, in his words, "pained, dazzled, confused."  They might fear the unknown.  You might even have to fight with them or drag them to get them to go with you.  They would prefer the darkness at first because it's what they're used to.  But after their eyes adjusted to the brightness outside and after they had the opportunity to see the way things really are-then they would lose all desire to go back into the dark cave-to live there in bondage again looking at shadows on the wall.  This allegory by Plato has been interpreted in a number of ways.  But in the translation of it that I usually read, Plato asks us to consider the effect of education-or the lack of it-on our nature.  And he makes the point that the power to learn is in everyone's soul.  Indeed this story talks about the need for enlightenment-a need that we all share.  Plato says of the prisoners in the cave, "They are like us."  And by saying this he tries to get us to ask ourselves in what ways is our view of reality simply like viewing dim shadows on the wall?  I should also add that Plato makes the point that after people move out into the light of the sun that you cannot just forget about all the others who are still strapped to their chairs deep down in the cave.  We have a duty to go in and help the others.  He says we should take turns going back into the cave to try to lead others out into the sunlight.  (Republic, Book VII)      In John, chapter 9, Jesus performs a physical healing-of giving sight to a blind man.  In this instance the miracle did not happen through a simple word or a touch or a prayer, but Jesus took the unusual approach of spitting on the ground and making some mud then applying it to the man's eyes, then telling him to go wash in a specific pool of water.  After the man washed, he could see.      Now this incident caused quite a stir.  People couldn't believe it.  In fact it was so baffling that they weren't sure about this man's identity.  Verses 8 and 9 tell us, "The neighbours and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, 'Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?'  Some were saying, "It is he.'  Others were saying, 'No, but it is someone like him.'  He kept saying, 'I am the man.'"  And all this confusion brings up an interesting point.  This story challenges us to ask the question, "Who is really blind?"  Indeed as you move into the story there is a confrontation between this man and the Pharisees--and you begin to see that the point of this story has more to do with spiritual blindness than it does with physical blindness.  And you begin to see the spiritual blindness of the Pharisees in contrast to the physical blindness of the man.  But think for a moment about the neighbors and the others who used to walk past him every day.  Now they don't recognize him and they argue among themselves about his identity.  It's like they never really saw him before.  They walked past him every day.  Maybe they even gave him a little money from time to time.  But they never really saw him.  It's like they were blind toward him; perhaps even blind toward his inconvenient condition.  At his time and place in history, this man really had no other options in life but to sit there and beg.  What else could he do?  His existence depended on the good will of his neighbors-and they never really saw him; never really embraced their role in his life; never got to know him as a person.  And the blindness of the neighbors makes me ask myself: Who are the people in this world that I choose not to notice?  What are the situations of others that I find inconvenient?  In what ways am I blind to the needs of the world?  And though I know I can't personally solve all of the world's problems--what are the situations that I should embrace?  How can I become more enlightened?  And how can I help bring sight to others?      I don't know about you, but thinking about the people I choose not to see or the situations I find inconvenient can be a little unsettling.  So let's focus on the Pharisees for a moment.  It's much easier to criticize the Pharisees for their obvious spiritual blindness, don't you think?  The text tells us that they didn't believe the man had once been blind so they questioned his parents.  The parents were very careful to say only what they could verify.  Yes, this is our son.  Yes, he was born blind.  But no, we really do not know how it is that now he can see.  So they questioned the man himself.  Likewise, the man gave a simple answer: No, I really do not know much about Jesus.  All I know is that once I was blind but now I can see.  Then an argument started between the man and the Pharisees.       What's wrong with this picture is that not even for one moment did the Pharisees stop to say congratulations.  We're happy for you-so glad you can see.  No, it appears that they would have preferred that he was still blind and still a beggar!  They simply could not see--would not acknowledge--this wonderful thing that had happened in the man's life because they were so set on making their point that God could not possibly be working through Jesus.  They felt they knew this for certain--but it appears that their own certainty was the source of their spiritual blindness.  The ones in this story who thought they could see clearly turn out to be the ones who are really the most spiritually blind.  Their preconceived notions, maybe mixed with a little stubbornness, and maybe even a little pride, made it impossible for them to see God work in unexpected ways and through unexpected people.  And this is the point where it's possible that we might even see ourselves in the Pharisees just a little.  Does God have to fit into our preconceived notions?  Are we able to see God work in unexpected ways?  Can we see God working through unexpected people?  Or are we too much like the Pharisees?      This story in John 9 challenges us to see-to open up our eyes and see the ways God is at work.  And it challenges us to confront our own spiritual blindness, to ask the questions: Who are the people that we choose not to notice?  How have we been blind to the needs of the world?  And are we able to see God work in unexpected ways and through unexpected people?      Think for a moment about the joy of the man who was healed.  Yes, I'm asking you to do something that apparently no one else in the story seemed able to do.  But just focus on what has happened here.  He was blind and now he can see.  It's surprising, it's amazing, it's puzzling for sure--but what an incredible experience this man has been through.  Questions of how it happened or why it happened or did it really happen are understandable.  But can we not just for a moment enter into this man's joy--and rejoice with him?  Part of our own process of enlightenment is to recognize that sometimes God works in surprising and unexpected ways.  If only we could see all the ways.      Joe and Sally Roher, who were the pastors at Friendswood Friends Church for many years, like to sing a little song called "Surprise."  Here are the words of the song: Surprise, surprise, God is a surprise, Right before your eyes, it's baffling to the wise. Surprise, surprise, God is a surprise, Open up your eyes and see.