2020 Vision

“Let there be light. And so light appeared” [Genesis 1:3, CEB].

Our earliest scriptures teach us that when God began God’s creative processes, there was an initial need to dispel darkness. Therefore, as God’s first command in crafting the cosmos, Elohim said, “Let there be light. And so light appeared” [Genesis 1:3, CEB]. The darkness was not completely banished, of course. God allowed it to remain as part of the created order. “Elohim named the light Day and the darkness Night” [Genesis 1:5, CEB]. And so, from that primordial moment, there has been a duel of sorts between darkness and light. Other scriptures reveal to us, however, that it is God’s intent that light should prevail over darkness.

Of course, darkness can manifest itself in many ways. Consider the man who serves as the central figure in this week’s Gospel reading [John 9:1-41]. Blind from birth, his predicament elicits not compassion from the disciples, but rather an academic, theological question. They inquire of Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned so that he was born blind, this man or his parents?” [John 9:2].

We’re relieved by the first part of our Lord’s answer: neither the man nor his parents sinned so as to cause the man’s blindness. Yet, the second part of our Lord’s answer causes discomfort, “This happened so that God’s mighty works might be displayed in him” [John 9:3b, CEB]. For those many of us who value our sight — our particular perspective — it’s difficult to imagine a loving God proving a point, any point, in this fashion.

Alas, in what takes up but two of the 41 verses in the chapter, Jesus smears spit-laden mud on the man’s eyes and tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam. The blind man finds his way to the pool, bathes his eyes, and sees. The remainder of the chapter is consumed with the righteous indignation of those who cannot understand why Jesus would stoop to heal this poor beggar. Their real question, of course, is just who does this Jesus thinks he is by breaking the Sabbath with his unauthorized practice of medicine? Spoiler alert: Jesus later tells the man that He is the Messiah.

Then, near the end of the story, just as I am about to assume the pose of the publican in the parable of the publican and the tax collector [see Luke 18:9-14], by thanking God that I’m not like the Pharisees who so unjustly accuse Jesus of wrongdoing, our Lord totally upsets my apple cart with his final pronouncement, “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind” (John 9:39, ESV).

“Ouch; Jesus couldn’t be talking about me, could He?” Just two seconds of self-examination reveals that I’m pretty darn sure how well I see the world around me. Could there be plights around me about which I am actually blind?

As kids, my three brothers and I, together with many of our cousins, were fascinated — and ultimately inspired — by the marvelous bond between our Aunt Janie and Uncle Heman. “Aunt” Janie was actually our great-aunt, in as much as she was the third of four Crawford girls who grew up near Crowders Creek, in southern Gaston County. Our beloved Grandmother Lib was the oldest.

At the heart of Janie and Heman’s relationship was splendid irony. You see, Aunt Janie was incredibly pretty, even in her later years. Slender and graceful, she had eyes you could drown in. And yet, as far as I know, Uncle Heman never laid his eyes on her; he was totally blind. In spite of that condition, Heman was a skilled, fully licensed independent property and casualty insurance broker, managing a thriving and lucrative insurance agency in nearby Cherryville.

Heman and Janie had a marvelously choreographed method of moving together. He had a subtle way of walking beside Aunt Janie, holding her lightly by her elbow. To a stranger, it looked as if he was steadying her, instead of the other way around. Heman also had a wonderfully dry wit, often delighting in greeting friends and family with words such as, “So good to see you.”

At extended family luncheons, Aunt Janie was a master. Heman would follow her down the buffet line holding his plate, often chatting with one of the other family members. Janie would offer a comment about how delicious the salad or green beans looked. She’d note aloud how beautiful the yellow squash seemed to be this year. “Oh! Heman,” she’d often add, “I think I’ll have to have some of Lois’ roast chicken.”

It was easy to fail to see what was actually going on. Instead of dishing out compliments to the many wonderful family cooks, Janie was actually serving as Heman’s cypher of sorts. You see, as she mentioned each of the foods, she arranged some of it on his plate, much like the hours on a clock face. Heman could carry on a conversation with one adult, listen to Janie, and remember the exact order of all the foods. As they sat down, she’d deftly turn his plate so that the first food item she had mentioned was in the 12 o’clock position. Heman could, of course, take things from there. As I grew old enough to appreciate their devotedness, particularly when I later became captivated by a beautiful Jane of my own, I often thought to myself, “Who actually sees better — the world, or Uncle Heman?”

You see, Uncle Heman offered us a wonderful perspective. In many ways, he taught us that all too often the problem of seeing things the “ordinary” way is that one gets so easily caught up in outward appearances. “Normal” sight concentrates on the surface of things; by definition, it’s superficial. With normal sight, our eyes quickly skip from object to object, from tree to fence, from grassy lane to forested hill, from one person’s face to that of another, all the while actually disregarding much of the beauty that lies beneath.

In the process of seeing “normally,” we may fail to trust our sense of touch, our ability to hear, and to smell. We may ignore our sense of timing. “Seeing is believing,” we are taught. And so, we primarily trust our eyes. Unlike Uncle Heman, in seeing with our eyes, we may fail to see each other with our hearts.

In our Lord’s final pronouncement in this week’s story, there is a remarkable reversal. Jesus is saying, “Not only do I come to give eyes to see (and ears to hear), but I come also to give blindness — or putting things another way — to reveal the blindness of those who think their sight and judgment is perfect. You see, Jesus — the Light to the world — loves us enough to want us to see as well as Uncle Heman.