As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him." (John 9:1-3)
These verses are the beginning of an extended story about the healing of the man born blind, which gradually unfolds from the physical into a story about spiritual blindness and insight. At the very outset, however, there is this little exchange between Jesus and the disciples; it is almost a throwaway line in its context, but it poses an important question all by itself.
The disciples want to know what sin caused the man to be born blind. In their general way of thinking, illness and disability are the result of sin, they are the concrete forms taken by God's punishment for wrongdoing. But this man has been blind from birth. He could not have sinned in the womb, could he? So why then was he punished with blindness? Perhaps he is being punished for his parents' sins. Moses certainly talked about punishment for sin being visited on children and children's children. But then the prophet Ezekiel had changed that, specifically hearing God say that from then on "the life of the parent as well as the life of the child is mine: it is only the person who sins that shall die" (Ezekiel 18:4). So, strictly speaking, it would go against the teachings of the prophets to assume this man was born blind because his parents had sinned. So the disciples are faced with a quandary: If this man's blindness is a punishment for sin, then what sin could possibly have warranted this punishment?
They can't figure this conundrum out. So they ask their teacher, "Rabbi, who sinned? Who's to blame for this man's blindness?"
Jesus' answer to them turns the whole query on its head. Instead of satisfying their curiosity about who to blame, Jesus tells them they are asking the wrong question in the first place. This man's blindness isn't the result of wrongdoing, but instead it is a preparation for glory. They want to know what thing in the past has caused this situation; Jesus tells them that what they should be looking for is what future God will bring from it. Instead of asking "What bad caused this?", Jesus makes the question "What good will God bring out of it?"
How often when we are confronted with disease and disaster are our first questions "What caused this?" and "Who is to blame?" It is as if we expect to find some emotional comfort from being able to assign responsibility, or we think we can control something and keep it from happening again if we can puzzle out the cause. And often that is true: knowing a certain drug causes birth defects, for instance, means we can know not to prescribe that drug, and further suffering can be prevented. But sometimes I think the urge to assign responsibility and figure out blame can become a red herring: we can spend so much energy trying to figure out why a bad thing happened that we become virtually blind to the good things that could and should be done to heal and cure the situation. Too often, I think, we can be like the disciples, asking "Who sinned?", when what God really wants for us is to be asking "What good will God bring forth from this?"
I think it can be a form of spiritual discipline to train our minds to ask the question "What good will God do here?" whenever we are faced with a situation of pain or grief or loss or disaster. Along with the necessary, practical questions about causes and effects, we can ask spiritual questions about purpose, about the end to be served, about the compassion and love and healing that can be revealed even in the worst of situations. And, asking that question, we can also ask "How can we be co-creators with God, to do God's work of revealing love and compassion even here?"
What insight into transforming loss into love will you be open to today?
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