I was Blind

All the Light We Cannot See is a recent novel that is set in occupied France during World War II. It tells the story of Marie-Laure LeBlanc who, at the age of six, becomes blind from a degenerative condition. Her widowed father is a master locksmith at the Museum of Natural History in Paris. To help her navigate the world and live independently, Marie-Laure’s father builds her a scale model of her neighborhood, and then walks her through the streets, teaching her to count her steps. He also has her learn Braille and brings her books that open up her world.

When the Nazis invade France in 1940, Marie-Laure and her father flee to Saint-Malo on the Atlantic coast, where they live in the house of great-uncle Etienne, a recluse. Again Marie-Laure’s father builds her wooden scale models and teaches her to navigate Etienne’s house and neighborhood. Although her father is arrested by the Nazis, partly because of his diligence in mapping Saint-Malo, Marie-Laure is able to function without him, draw out Etienne, help her neighbors, and change the life of Werner, a young German soldier of the occupation. There’s much more to the story, and I highly recommend that you read it for yourself. And why do I recommend it? It is not only the character of Marie-Laure that captivates us. What is more important is that the novel reminds us that there are different kinds of blindness, and that physical blindness does not necessarily lead to a life of misery, but only if the world around us is willing to support us and enable us to “see” differently.

Today’s readings from Scripture also ask us to consider the meanings and varieties of blindness. As you heard the reading from the first book of Samuel about the choice of a king to succeed Saul, couldn’t you just picture the parade of Jesse’s sons passing by the prophet Samuel? Tall, strong, probably accomplished horsemen, hunters, and fighters, wouldn’t they all have made excellent kings? No one in the story here is physically blind, but all are inwardly blind, as they seem to focus only on outward physical appearance. Even Samuel, when he sees tall Eliab, thinks that Eliab must be God’s choice. However, Samuel is also attuned to God, and so he is able to hear God say, “Do not look on his appearance … for the Lord does not see as mortals see….” When David is finally summoned from tending the sheep and is brought before Samuel, Samuel is able to hear God say, “Rise up and anoint him; for this is the one.”

Our Gospel story from the Gospel according to John similarly intrigues us with its depiction of different kinds of blindness. But first, there are some caveats, or warnings, when we talk about this gospel. Remember that it was written in the 90’s, i.e., sixty years after Jesus’ death. More important, it was written for a community in conflict with the mainline Judaism of its day. “The Jews” in this text are the religious leaders opposed to Jesus, not all Jews and not even all religious leaders. When this particular story mentions that followers of Jesus were “put out of the synagogue,” it refers to what Jesus’ followers in the 90’s were experiencing, not the experience of Jesus’ first disciples. And finally, remember that the overarching theme of this gospel is proving Jesus’ divinity, which you can hear here in “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

So keeping that all in mind, let’s look at this challenging story. Here we see different kinds of blindness and different ways of responding to what is plainly in front of us. To begin with we see the man born blind, i.e., physically blind like Marie-Laure. However, unlike Marie-Laure, this man is stigmatized by his community because of his disability. Considered unclean, he is forced to become a beggar. Yet by God’s grace he is able to allow Jesus to touch him with a mixture of mud and saliva, and to follow Jesus’ instruction to wash in the pool of Siloam. Knowing he has been healed, he declares Jesus to be a prophet and one who had surely come from God.

Meanwhile, everyone else in the story is unable to see what has happened. The bystanders waffle: maybe it was he who was healed, maybe it wasn’t. The man’s parents cannot or will not say that their son has been healed. And the religious leaders, like so many people we know, cannot believe what they see and hear. Why? Because what has happened does not conform to their view of the world, the Law of Moses, or what are permissible activities on the Sabbath. While the evangelist seems to portray these religious leaders negatively, I can easily understand their desire to hold on to tradition, their inability to accept a changed reality, and their certainty that they are right.

And more important, aren’t we too in these stories? We are surely in the story from first Samuel. So many of us are just like Samuel! We too can’t see beyond outward characteristics! Don’t we judge other people on the basis of looks? Actually, our culture is obsessed with looks, especially how women look. Just look at the ads in any magazine! But don’t we also judge people on the basis of gender, age, religion, ethnicity, nationality, social class, and disability? “You only get one chance to make a first impression,” the how-to-succeed books say. But so often that first impression is so wrong. For most of us, it takes more than one encounter for us to see the real person beneath the outward trappings. How hard it is to see “as God sees.”

And don’t we also find it hard to see that God has done and is doing a new thing in our lives or in our world? Do we find it difficult to accept the reality of God’s actions because, like the bystanders, we don’t trust the evidence right in front of us, or because, like the beggar’s parents, we are afraid of what others might say if we commit to some new understanding? Or more than likely, we find it hard to see God at work, doing a new thing, because we are still looking through the lenses of the past. Like the religious leaders, we dismiss the possibility that God is changing our lives or our world, because we can’t let go of cherished beliefs and practices. “Tradition!” says Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, when he attempts to explain life in his village. Do we still cling to outmoded traditions and beliefs?

We don’t have to stay blind! Marie-Laure learned to “see” through her father’s models and measured walks. Samuel learned to see by trusting God’s voice inside him, as he rejected all of Jesse’s older sons. The blind man was able to see through trusting a strange rabbi. The bystanders, the man’s parents, and the religious leaders were not able, at least in this story, to learn how to see.

How do we learn to see more clearly? To me, we begin to see more clearly when we give up our own sense of “how things are” and allow for the possibility that God does see differently than we do. We see more clearly when we can grasp that reality might be different than we think it is. We see more clearly when we are willing to give up our intense control of our lives and admit that we are not always right. For some of us, that is very difficult!

And how do we cultivate discernment and inner sight? How do we learn to let God help us see more clearly? There are lots of formal processes and good books about discernment out there. The Jesuits are especially good at teaching us discernment through meditating on Scripture. They also teach an especially good practice of walking through our day, watching for where God might have shown up. In the secular world, strategic planning, especially when it includes visioning exercises, can lead to clearer sight. Parishes can engage in communal discernment practices, and, again, there are many good books, consultants, and programs out there for that. Some of you are familiar with the discernment processes that accompany a felt sense of call to ordained ministry.

For us as individuals, perhaps the best way to learn to see more clearly is to spend some time, preferably every day, in intentional silence. Lectio divina, i.e., slow reading of Scripture, intentionally listening for God’s word to us, is one practice that, like new eyeglasses, can improve our sight. Or just sit in silence, even for five or ten minutes, setting aside your own thoughts and even conscious prayers, just listening for God’s word. Have you ever considered a silent retreat? They are wonderful for bringing us to a place of openness to God and for enabling us to consider how God might want to do something new in our lives. If you’re not ready for a week in silence – even though I highly recommend it – I invite you instead to try this spiritual exercise. Sit quietly. Take a few deep breaths. Ask yourself: what does God see in me? What does God see in N? Is there anything about N that I might not be seeing?

Ultimately, our goal as followers of Jesus is to cultivate wisdom, about ourselves, the world, and God, which is how we truly see. As we listen for the Word made flesh, i.e., God present to us in Jesus, we will learn wisdom. We will not be blind, but we will truly see God at work in ourselves and in all whom we encounter.