How has Jesus opened your eyes?

How were your eyes opened?  It is the question that gets asked five times directly, and implied another two times in the narrative.  In one of the three great stories in John’s gospel that we hear back to back to back these middle Sundays of Lent, we are invited to answer this question, not for the blind man, but for ourselves.  “How did he open YOUR eyes?” John’s story keeps asking.

  You see, one of the great temptations of this story is to keep it a story about the man born blind.  That is precisely what the disciples wanted to do in the beginning of the tale – “Lord, who’s sin is it, his or his parents?”  They didn’t want to even enter in the blind man’s world, but to have a ‘nice safe debate about it’ – keeping it out there, instead of in here (point to chest).  The Pharisees obstinately refuse to enter into the implications of the story.  As the blind man moves deeper into a profession of faith, the Pharisees move deeper into a refusal to see.  “This man cannot be from God.  We know that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know where this one is from…”  And John, that masterful story teller ends with that wonderful punch line: “If you were blind, you would have no sin, but now you are saying, “We see,” so your sin remains.  “Just what did he do to you?  How did he open your eyes?”

So let me share just one moment from my pilgrimage where my eyes were opened just a bit more, in the hopes that it may open up for you your own experience of having your eyes opened.  (I promise not to bore you every homily henceforth with another “When I was in the Holy Land tale…”  -but when it is appropriate, I will…)

One of the sites we visited was the church that stands next to the garden of Gethsemane.  Among many things that make the place memorable is the space in front of the altar.  The floor ‘gives way’ at that point, and the bedrock shows through – so what you see is a large rectangle – probably 10 feet deep by 20 feet across, rising about 2-3 feet above the floor.  ‘Guarding’ that space is an artist’s version of the crown of thorns, sticking up about 6-8 inches.  I watched people for a little while going reverently up to that space, kneeling down, and putting their hands through the grill and laying them flat upon the stone.  “What gives?” was my first reaction.  But suddenly, I knew I had to put the camera down and do the same. 

What I remembered were the words of our guide before we even entered Gethsemane, describing the church.  He said the stone is believed to be the spot where Jesus went alone to pray in garden, three times asking God to ‘let this cup pass’ – but not my will, but thine be done.  So as I laid my hands down on that rock, worn smooth from the countless pilgrims before me, it dawned on me, that this was the place where Jesus said his YES – that this was the place where he chose the cross that would mark his life.  This was the space where He gave his life completely to the Father’s will for him.  Though it was not MUD and SPIT, but a bit of the bedrock that dominates that hilly country showing through, MY eyes were opened at that point, and I knew, like the blind man, I had to make MY choice again to follow Jesus – to be willing to bear the pain of whatever crosses followed from that choice.

“Just what did he do to you?  How did he open your eyes?”  My answer was simple – Jesus said yes to self emptying, self giving love, and so saved my life and my soul.  In that particular place and moment, I knew that I could do no less.  But you know, you don’t have to go to the holy land to experience that same moment.  Perhaps the ‘stone that is sticking above the floor’ is the pile of dishes from the roommate that you willingly chose to share the room with.  Perhaps it is knife and fork of the daughter or brother who is downs syndrome and needs your special care just to eat.  Perhaps it is pile of books on your desk that are the regular part of your studies that will allow you to be an ophthalmologist, or nurse, or musician, or…  They seem pretty ordinary.  But, what matters in those ordinary moments of your life – in the mud and spit of YOUR LIFE, the ordinary stuff of that miracle – is the invitation that is given to you:  “Do YOU believe in the Son of Man?”  And in those moments, may you make the same choice of Jesus in the garden and the man at the pool of Siloam – “I do believe, Lord.”  I see and I believe…