March 19, 2023 (Fourth Sunday in Lent)

“The Problem with Healing”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

Once again, it’s given to the disciples to ask the stupid question: Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? Stupid and hurtful, right? Imagine, because of the misguided notion that misfortune is punishment, the lifetime of shame and isolation heaped on the head of this man who already had the challenge of blindness. But does Jesus do him any better when he says the man’s blindness isn’t about anyone’s sin but a vehicle for God to show off his healing power?

The man’s shame and isolation is what gives this man the vulnerability to Jesus’ ministrations. Jesus has started an avalanche of new troubles for the man, who had already been left to beg for a living. After Jesus heals him, his neighbors won’t even acknowledge his existence: He just looks like him, they say. They’ve probably never in their lives taken a good look at him and really seen him as a person. Here he is dealing with this unexpected gift of sight, which must be overwhelming and disorienting, and now he’s more isolated than before. Yet he’s stirred to boldly affirm his identity with a simple statement that is bound to isolate him more: “I am.” Jesus has brought him not only new trouble but also new freedom and confidence.

But here comes more trouble: his neighbors interrogate him. How were your eyes opened? Where is this Jesus? Unwilling to change their own vision of reality and accept this man’s healing and his answers, they drag him to the Pharisees for enhanced religious interrogation: How can you see? How can a sinner heal? But the man courageously steps deeper into danger, standing up for Jesus instead of himself: He is a prophet. Do we hear stirrings of faith? Is that why this man is startlingly brave?

When the man’s parents are summoned, they’re so afraid of expulsion from the synagogue and community that they don’t speak up for him: Ask him yourself. The Pharisees apply more pressure on their son: Acknowledge that Jesus is a sinner! But this new man seems committed to pursuing his newfound freedom, dangerous as it is. I don’t know about that, but he opened my eyes. How? Why do you keep asking? Do you want to become his disciples too? His faith’s gestation is nearly finished. After their further protestations, the man stands up for Jesus with a proclamation that shuts their mouths and shuts the door on him: If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything. They throw him out.

Now he’s isolated more than ever. Does he regret Jesus’ healing of his blindness and the subsequent trials? Does he regret these stirrings of freedom and faith? Jesus comes to him again, ready to take advantage of his sad state. Rather than interrogate him, Jesus asks the question that will heal this man further, and bring him more trouble: Do you believe? I do believe, Lord.

Every difficult step along the way, this man, who is nameless so as to be a stand-in for each of us, has grown in courage and in faith. The shame heaped on him for his blindness leads to openness to healing. The resulting increased isolation and maltreatment leads to the courage that comes with stirrings of faith. He is expelled for his courage and blasphemy, which leads to the full vulnerability necessary for faith. His eyes have now been fully opened. He sees himself for who he is and Jesus for who he is. He sees that God has always seen him, and he sees God’s love for him.

Yes, Jesus’ actions have led to more suffering for this man. But the suffering isn’t Jesus’ doing, just as the man’s initial blindness wasn’t God’s doing. Yes, God makes use of the man’s physical and spiritual healing for his own purposes but only alongside his compassionate revivifying of this man. This man has bravely cooperated all along the way, and his invigorated life, unsurprisingly accompanied by suffering and rejection, glorifies God.

What happens next for this man? For us? Jesus, when he healed him of his physical blindness, told him to go wash in the Pool of Siloam, which means Sent. This man, who is us, having had his eyes opened to faith by the persistent love of Jesus, presumably proclaims his faith with courage and generously shares the life of Jesus with others.

Are we willing, in the midst of our own pain and fear, to allow God to open our eyes to faith and life, knowing that deepened faith and new life bring new challenges? May Lent be a time of healing for us all so that Easter will find us boldly proclaiming our faith and new life.