AS HE WENT along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”
3“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. 4As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
6Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. 7“Go,” he told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam” (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing.
8His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, “Isn’t this the same man who used to sit and beg?” 9Some claimed that he was.
Others said, “No, he only looks like him.”
But he himself insisted, “I am the man.”
10“How then were your eyes opened?” they demanded.
11He replied, “The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see.”
12“Where is this man?” they asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said.
13They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. 14Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man’s eyes was a Sabbath. 15Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. “He put mud on my eyes,” the man replied, “and I washed, and now I see.”
16Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.”
But others asked, “How can a sinner do such miraculous signs?” So they were divided.
17Finally they turned again to the blind man, “What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened.”
The man replied, “He is a prophet.”
18The Jews still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man’s parents. 19“Is this your son?” they asked. “Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?”
20“We know he is our son,” the parents answered, “and we know he was born blind. 21But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself.” 22His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for already the Jews had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Christ would be put out of the synagogue. 23That was why his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”
24A second time they summoned the man who had been blind. “Give glory to God,” they said. “We know this man is a sinner.”
25He replied, “Whether he is a sinner or not, I don’t know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!”
26Then they asked him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?”
27He answered, “I have told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?”
28Then they hurled insults at him and said, “You are this fellow’s disciple! We are disciples of Moses! 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don’t even know where he comes from.”
30The man answered, “Now that is remarkable! You don’t know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly man who does his will. 32Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. 33If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”
34To this they replied, “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” And they threw him out.
35Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”
36“Who is he, sir?” the man asked. “Tell me so that I may believe in him.”
37Jesus said, “You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you.”
38Then the man said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him.
39Jesus said, “For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind.”
40Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, “What? Are we blind too?”
41Jesus said, “If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.
Original Meaning
THE STORY OF the Feast of Tabernacles now goes to a type of narrative we frequently encounter in the Synoptic Gospels, namely, a healing followed by controversy. It is also a story that has numerous parallels with the healing account given in John 5. A man is healed on the Sabbath, the temple leadership (and in John 9 the neighbors) raise questions, Jesus later finds the man and encourages him, and finally Jesus enters into an extended debate with Jerusalem’s theologians about the meaning of his authority.
The healing of the blind man is also closely linked with the preceding narrative in 8:12–59. Jesus is still at the Feast of Tabernacles, and the reader should review the temple light ceremonies alluded to in 8:12 (see comments). Chapter 9 can almost be described as a “case study” of Jesus’ message in the second half of chapter 8. It is a magnificent summary of what Jesus has been saying about himself throughout the festival. He is the true light that surpasses anything available in the temple; he is a messenger from God, bearing God’s word for the world and giving life to all who believe.
In the present chapter, a man who lives in “darkness” is miraculously given “light.” Through the story of this man’s healing we see another parable beginning to unfold. Physical healing becomes a symbol of spiritual healing while physical blindness is replaced with spiritual blindness. At the end of the story a splendid reversal appears: The man who once lived in darkness now has light (in both eye and heart), while those arrayed against him have sound eyes but nevertheless live in spiritual darkness. Tabernacles light has truly come to Jerusalem and everyone needs it. Yet only those who believe in Jesus will have the opportunity to enjoy it.
The chapter can be conveniently organized in three units. First is the account of the healing itself (9:1–7). This is followed by the interrogation of the blind man by his neighbors and the Pharisees (9:8–34)—a section that ends with the man being expelled from his synagogue (9:30–34). Finally Jesus reenters the story to provide a parabolic teaching that sums up the lessons of the story: how one sightless man gained vision while others are told they are blind (9:35–41). John delights in double meanings, which we must watch for as the story unfolds. John 9 provides a refreshing interlude from the dense argumentation of chapters 6–8. It is, as Raymond Brown has remarked, Johannine “dramatic skill at its best.”1
The Healing of the Blind Man (9:1–7)
THE SYNOPTICS PROVIDE numerous examples of Jesus healing blind people. In some respects this sort of miracle was a hallmark of his ministry (Matt. 11:5; Luke 4:17; 7:22). Jesus healed the blind man Bartimaeus in Jericho (Mark 10:46–52; Luke 18:35–43), two blind men in Galilee (Matt. 9:27–31), a blind man without speech elsewhere (possibly in Capernaum; Matt. 12:22–23), a blind man in Bethsaida (Mark 8:22–26), and one more in Jerusalem following his cleansing of the temple (Matt. 21:14). Jesus was a healer especially of the blind. They followed him in order to see if he would deliver them from their suffering (Luke 21:14).
Blindness was a problem in antiquity, far more common than we would think. Eye disease had few cures, and unsanitary conditions (especially in water) increased risks considerably. In Jesus’ day blindness was so well known that he includes the blind in his parables about whom to invite to parties (Luke 14:13). He even uses it metaphorically to represent spiritual darkness, precisely as he does in John 9 (Matt. 15:14; 23:16, 17, 19, 24, 26; Luke 6:39).
The man whom Jesus meets at the Feast of Tabernacles has been blind from birth (9:1). This leads his disciples to ask about the origin of his suffering (9:2). They assume there must be a connection between sin and suffering, so they probe who is responsible, the man or his parents. Jesus rejects this entire line of questioning (9:3). However, the NIV and most English translations invite gross confusion with Jesus’ answer. The NIV reads: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”2 It hardly takes a careful reader to see the theological implications following this line of thought: God brought suffering to this man so that he might glorify himself in his healing. While a sound theology cannot doubt God’s sovereignty to do as he pleases, thoughtful Christians may see this as a cruel fate in which God inflicts pain on people simply to glorify himself.
However, the “purpose clause” of 9:3b (“so that the work of God . . .”) can just as well be applied to 9:4, and no doubt it should. Such clauses (introduced by Gk. hina) may begin the main sentence rather than follow it. Of eleven uses of the Gk. all’ hina (“but so that,” 9:3b) in John, four of them precede their main sentence (1:31; 13:18; 14:31; 15:25). If 9:2–4 follows this pattern, we may translate it as follows: “ ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus. ‘But so that the work of God might be displayed in his life, we must do the work of him who sent me while it is still day.’ ”
The purpose clause now explains that Jesus must work so that God’s work may be displayed in this man’s life. God had not made the man blind in order to show his glory; rather, God has sent Jesus to do works of healing in order to show his glory. The theological nuance of the two translations cannot be more different. Jesus’ work must not be interrupted because he is the light that illumines the day, and night is coming (9:4b–5) when he will be absent and such miracles at his hand will cease.
Jesus then makes a mud plaster of saliva and soil and applies it to the man’s eyes (9:6). In antiquity spittle was thought to have medicinal power. Thus, Jesus’ action is not unusual.3 Mark records two other instances where Jesus does the same thing (Mark 7:32–35; 8:22–25). Jesus then tells the man to go and wash in the Pool of Siloam (9:7). John indicates in a parenthesis that “Siloam” means “sent” (which it does in Hebrew).4
This pool was at the south end of the city of Jerusalem and is an important detail for two reasons. (1) It was the source of water in the Tabernacles ceremony (see comments on 7:37–52). This is the pool built after Hezekiah redirected the Gihon Spring by tunneling west under the city of David. It was the only source of spring water in the city and thus had religious, ceremonial value.5 If Jesus is the source of the Feast of Tabernacles water (7:37–39), this man has now experienced such water in a profound way.
(2) The name of the pool bears symbolic importance for Jesus. More than twenty times in this Gospel, Jesus is described as the one who has been “sent” by God (e.g., 4:34; 5:23, 37; 7:28; 8:26; 12:44; 14:24). In other words, the blind man is being told to go wash in the place called “sent,” by the One who was “sent” by God. Jesus, then, is the source of his healing, not the pool.6 The man is obedient (9:7) and is healed.7 John reports no fanfare or disturbance.
Interrogation (9:8–34)
THE DRAMATIC HEALING of this man must have made a significant stir among his immediate friends and family. While in antiquity numerous people might claim to possess healing powers, miracles such as this that could be verified caught everyone’s attention. The ancient world had few answers for severe illnesses and disabilities, which led many to look to magic and superstition. But here was a healer who did what he promised. A man well known as a beggar blind from birth now could see; this was unparalleled (9:32).
The community’s investigation of this man’s experience is given to us in abbreviated form in the following verses. We can imagine hours of debating and discussing as the community tries to verify not only the identity of the man as blind but the identity of the healer, Jesus. How did he do this? Can it be repeated? Can he do this to still more people? And where does his authority come from? Is this power something unique, something that unveils God’s working in him? Is this divine power?
(1) The neighbors (9:8–13). John provides a cycle of four scenes where questions are launched concerning the man and his healing. It is instructive to make a careful comparison of these four to see what implied messages they bear. In the first scene (9:8–13), the neighbors interrogate the man and in disbelief work to verify that he is indeed the man they knew as blind. They do not reject the miracle, but they look to the Pharisees, the established theological leaders in the synagogue, for counsel. These leaders sat on the high court of Israel, the Sanhedrin, but for minor, community matters, they were accessible for the average person.
(2) The Pharisees (9:14–17). The Pharisees question the man about the healing, but their chief worry is about a violation of the Sabbath. Because Jesus has done this on the Sabbath, they conclude that he must be a sinner and consequently, he cannot be acting in the power of God.
(3) The man’s parents (9:18–23). The Pharisees turn next to the man’s parents in order to confirm that indeed a miracle has occurred. The leaders are incredulous, but the parents fear them because they know of a conspiracy that will expel anyone from the synagogue who stands with Jesus. They deflect the Pharisees’ questions and direct them back to their son.
(4) The formerly blind man (again) (9:24–29). The leaders turn to the man for a second time. While he can hardly make a comment about Jesus’ sinfulness, he cannot deny the miracle. In exasperation, he presses the Pharisees boldly and the tension of the story mounts. The miracle demands an explanation, and its sheer magnitude points to only one source: God. But if this is the case, since God does not listen to sinners—and God has listened to Jesus—Jesus cannot be a sinner. Here we have the sharpest division between the man (who supports Jesus) and the leaders (who do not). “We are disciples of Moses,” they claim. These words point not merely to the division within Jesus’ audience, but to the later harsh division that will erupt between synagogue and church in coming decades.
Each of these scenes probes the identity of Jesus, and each betrays a deeper literary function. As the story progresses, Jesus is more closely revealed by name: He is “Jesus” (9:10), then he is called a “prophet” (9:17), then “the Christ” (9:22), and finally, he is declared to be “from God” (9:33). It is easy to see the Christological progression of each name as the story develops. While the Pharisees repudiate Jesus and his role, the discussion drives home his true identity.
Ironically, the entire episode of interrogation ends with an accusation hurled at the man from the leaders: “You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!” (9:34). This is telling since it echoes the verses that began the chapter. Recall the question raised in 9:1–2 about the man’s birth and sin. Jesus’ rejected this question (9:3) as a cause of his infirmity, just as he rejected the Pharisees’ attempt to dismiss this man again as a sinner (9:34). In the former instance, sin supposedly brought physical blindness; in the latter, his sin supposedly brought spiritual blindness (or religious ignorance). They are wrong on both counts. Nevertheless the interrogation ends with the healed man experiencing the very thing his parents feared: He is expelled from the synagogue. We are not told if the discipline extends over a few days, a month, or permanently. Each may have been possible (though the latter seems unlikely).
Some scholars have viewed the expulsion of 9:34 as evidence that the story comes from a later period (generally the late 80s or 90s), when synagogue/church tensions were acute and the formal language of expulsion was imbedded into Jewish liturgy and law. Some point to the Jewish Council of Jamnia and expulsion decrees established in the late 80s. But others today are doubtful if Jamnia is determinative and think that it should be “relegated to the limbo of unestablished hypotheses.”8 It is thus not necessary to see the discipline for the present story as a formal excommunication from the synagogue, but a quick rejection of the man from their presence.
Spiritual Blindness (9:35–41)
THE STORY CLOSES with Jesus’ return visit to the now-healed blind man. He has heard that as a result of the healing this man was expelled from the synagogue community. Jesus similarly “found” the paralytic in chapter 5 following his healing on the Sabbath (5:14). But while the paralytic’s disobedience to Jesus in refusing to remain silent led to Jesus’ increased persecution, the blind man becomes a model of faith and goodness.
Jesus meets with the blind man privately to unveil the true depth of what he experienced. His confession of faith (“Lord, I believe” 9:38) and his worship indicate that he no longer lives in “darkness” in any sense. This does not imply that the man simply believes in the reality of the miracle or the ability of Jesus. He has been arguing for this all along. The fact of his regained eyesight is beyond dispute. This rather is an open embrace of Jesus—a commitment to him as the Messiah of Israel. Jesus’ use of the title “Son of Man” does not evoke images of the coming conquering hero that we see so often in the Synoptics. In John’s story it is a commonplace title for Jesus as the divine messenger from heaven (3:13–14; 5:27; 6:27; 12:23).
The blind man thus becomes a model of every believer who embraces Jesus’ lordship and suffers persecution as a result (15:18–16:4). This is evident particularly in the double use of the Greek word kyrios in 9:36 and 38. In the first instance, kyrios simply means “sir” (NIV), to reflect the respect the man has for Jesus (cf. 4:11; 5:7; 12:21). But once Jesus unveils the true meaning of his personhood, the man’s attitude is transformed. Thus in 9:38 kyrios (“Lord”) parallels Thomas’s attitude of worship in 20:28; both men recognize that they are standing before a revelation of God.
The Pharisees, by contrast, have come forward to judge both the man and Jesus. But in the end, Jesus judges them. Once again we can find a parallel in the narrative of John 5. Following the accusations of that Sabbath controversy, Jesus’ discourse unveils the spiritual sickness of his accusers. Judgment is thus reversed as Jesus’ accusers suddenly stand accused. The same is at work in John 9. The light/darkness motif that surrounds the Feast of Tabernacles creates a delightful double meaning. Jesus’ opponents are physically sighted, but in reality they are spiritually blind. The blind man has had both conditions reversed (he can see perfectly clearly in both respects now).
But the most serious condition these opponents possess (9:41) is their insistence that they are innocent, that they understand fully the theological point Jesus is making, and that they reject it. Because they claim that they can see, their guilt is underscored since they are self-affirming in their religious position against Jesus.
The drama of chapter 9 has played out in full the meaning of Jesus’ announcement at the Feast of Tabernacles that he is “the light of the world” (8:12). Light has triumphed over darkness both in the blind man’s eyes and in his heart. But the light has also come as a symbol of judgment. This motif of light and judgment came out clearly earlier in 3:19–21. The Pharisees and the blind man have each stood in the light, and it has unmasked their spiritual dispositions:
Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.
Bridging Contexts
TWO HORIZONS. This dramatic story is as much about my life as a reader as it is about the first-century experiences of one blind man. But I cannot neglect the historical importance of Jesus’ Tabernacles revelation (about which this story is the climactic episode), for it sets the tone of Jesus’ visit to Jerusalem. Since chapter 7 we have witnessed how the authorities have firmly stood against Jesus, making condemning accusations. In this chapter the ultimate gulf seems firm. To the blind man they say, “You are this fellow’s disciple! We are disciples of Moses!” (9:28). In other words, the man must make a choice concerning whom he will follow.
The implication is that once a person becomes Jesus’ disciple, no longer can he or she be considered Moses’ disciple. This is a truly unfortunate decision since all of the earliest Jewish-Christians saw themselves as fulfilling what Moses and the patriarchs would have desired. As in 8:57, Abraham has seen Jesus’ day—indeed, Jesus himself—and rejoiced. But here we see that a decision to follow Jesus and proclaim him to be Messiah had severe religious consequences in the synagogue.
But the story goes further. The man and his opponents play out their story on a stylized literary stage, speaking not simply of history but of the present. The man is the protagonist in whose life we can easily see ourselves. The opponents are the literary antagonists, whose position is predictable and repeatable. For some scholars, this literary form is proof that the story is not historical, but stems from the Johannine church decades later.
But such a conclusion is unnecessary. John is rather writing on two horizons, recording a tragic, revealing episode in Jesus’ life and letting that story speak powerfully to any who would listen in their own context. The man thus becomes a model of the ideal convert (and no doubt should be contrasted with the healed man in chapter 5): He is healed by Jesus, he is persecuted, he chooses to believe in Jesus, he becomes a disciple. Jesus’ opponents likewise are stylized characters, who stand in their religious convictions (much like the opponents of ch. 8) and instead of seeing the miracle, point to Jesus’ violation of the Sabbath. In the end, they are found to be blind in their religious “wisdom.”
Occasionally John lets us watch “double meanings” at work among the characters of his story, such as when Nicodemus wrestles with the notion of rebirth in chapter 3. But in chapter 9, Jesus lets these double meanings work between the text and the reader. We are observers who see things not even the actors see. And the meaning (missed on them) can be ours if we have the sight, the spiritual insight, that Jesus is offering in chapter 9. Spiritual insight and physical sight move back and forth as we watch the actors play their roles.
For instance, the blind man confesses twice that he does not “know,” that he is ignorant (9:12, 25). Even when he meets Jesus in the end, he betrays how little he understands (9:36). Even his parents confess their ignorance (9:21). Yet at the end of the story, this man gains not only physical sight but spiritual insight (9:34–38). The religious leaders, by contrast, possess physical sight, but in the end are told that they are blind (lacking spiritual wisdom) even though two times they proclaim to “know” (9:24, 29). They even make pronouncements betraying their confidence in their knowing (9:16). The message here is fascinating: What one claims about spiritual insight cannot always be trusted. Sometimes those with numerous academic degrees and positions of religious power know less truth than the simple religious inquirer.
The antagonists, therefore, enjoy boasting in their confidence; the hero of the story comes to Jesus in complete emptiness. The empty man is filled; the men who claim they “need [no] doctor” (Matt. 9:12) are left in their darkness. The story is thus about open hearts and closed hearts. But here an element is added that we did not see in the controversies of chapter 8. These opponents boast in their knowledge, they are confident in their knowing, and yet they do not realize that they are actually unwise, ignorant, and misdirected. Guilt is attached to this boasting (“But now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains,” 9:41). In chapter 8 we simply met opponents who expressed religious antagonism. In chapter 9 we meet religious antagonism that springs from religious hybris.
As a reader I watch this drama unfold. However, the drama is working its magic on me as well. I too must choose. Will I believe the evidence of the miracle? Was this man blind from birth? Were these his parents? Will I decide that whoever can do such a miracle may come from God? Was Jesus a sinner? Does his Sabbath violation invalidate his claims? And will I choose to believe? What about the consequences? What about threats of persecution?
I am invited to believe. Just as we witnessed in chapter 4, the narrative of John 9 supplies me with what I need to properly identify Jesus. Titles for Jesus spill over each other, creating a catalogue for my study: Rabbi (9:2), Jesus (9:3), the light of the world (9:5), Sent (9:7), from God (9:16), prophet (9:17), Christ (9:22), Son of Man (9:35), Lord (9:38). Everything is here except the title Son of God (cf. 3:18; 5:25; also 10:36), and one can argue that this theme is presupposed in 9:16 and 33 (to be “from God” is to be God’s authoritative emissary or Son).
Hence, there are two principle “loci” in the story that I can interpret and bring into my generation. (1) There is the experience of the blind man, and here I can draw a dramatic picture of his infirmity, his begging, his healing (physical and spiritual), and his expulsion from his synagogue. (2) I can explore the experience of Jesus’ opponents—filled with questions aimed to hobble Jesus’ good work, puffed up in their theological knowledge, and in the end are judged by the Lord. Each locus is placed before me and I am invited to participate in the story. John has crafted the story so that I am forced as the reader to make the same judgment as Jesus’ audience. All the evidence of the miracle and Jesus’ identity are here. Now will I believe—with the blind man—or will I ask antagonistic questions—with the leaders?
Contemporary Significance
THE HEALING OF the blind man in John 9 has always played an important role in the instructional work of the church. Along with the stories in John 4 (the Samaritan woman) and 5 (the paralytic), the blind man appears in early catacomb art as an example of conversion/baptism. In all three stories water is the agent of regeneration, and the patristic and early medieval church quickly applied them to its baptismal rites. New converts were generally taught through the season of Lent, and these three stories were central to its liturgies.9 In eleventh-century Milan, for instance, the third Sunday in Lent was “the Sunday of the Blind Man.” Baptism was then celebrated during Easter week. John 9 served this too since it showed the healing power of water when it is employed for a spiritual work of God.
As early as the third century, we have evidence that examinations were also given to baptismal candidates during Lent. Three tests were given, and before the third, “the great test,” John 9 was read aloud.10 Since questions were asked of this man in chapter 9, it was a fitting model of what it meant to be a Christian who was ready to answer for his or her faith. If the candidate passed these tests, passages about cleansing water were read before baptism. Then the confession of the blind man was read aloud, “I do believe, Lord” (9:38).11
The blind man: a model of belief and conversion. This man’s life should be depicted as a hopeless tragedy. While he later shows himself to be spiritually astute, his day-to-day life enjoyed none of the protection or charitable assistance often given to the blind today. We have to forget images of seeing-eye dogs and Braille books. He sat at the roadside and begged. No employment, no prospects for marriage, no social honor. He was at the bottom of the social ladder. His future was bleak and he knew it. He was like the paralytic of chapter 5, only worse. This man’s world had foreclosed on him. There was no social net to catch people like this.
This hopelessness and darkness provide us with a potent image because John describes men and women without Christ to be in a crisis no less desperate. In 8:12 and 12:35 Jesus refers to those who “walk in darkness,” and this is precisely the condition of the blind. They stumble and get lost. Jesus lifts this image above the commonplace in order to make it a spiritual metaphor for the condition of the world that he has come to remedy.
The glory of this man’s healing stands in stark contrast with the desperation of his condition. Jesus did not simply give him sight; he gave him life. Some features of the story bear reflection. (1) Healing was important to Jesus’ work, and likewise it should be important in the church’s work today. I do not want to spiritualize this story utterly, making the spiritual renewal of the blind man the only important thing. Jesus also recognized that making the blind man whole was a gesture of his love for the man. Unfortunately many of us are predisposed not to believe in healing such as this.
There is an entire literature on this subject, and I imagine that anyone aiming to duplicate Jesus’ ministry (as found in John 9) needs to grapple with it. Some approaches wrestle with intellectual questions (such as C. S. Lewis’s Miracles). But others (Kathryn Kuhlman, Benny Hinn) seem to discredit a healing ministry for the thinking pastor. For many (myself included), the writings of Francis MacNutt have been compelling. As a Catholic priest, MacNutt entered into this ministry during the height of the Catholic charismatic renewal thirty years ago. His experiences there, along with his Ph.D. in theology from Harvard, give him maximum credibility to address the issue.12
(2) God is glorified when ministry happens in this manner. This is ministry that invites God to act in a powerful, dramatic manner to utterly transform. I fear sometimes that evangelicals are prone to view ministry through the lens of a twenty-first-century scholasticism. The work of God (which Jesus was eager to do) was simple: He brought the power of God to bear on one man’s life. The man was healed and transformed, and this led to an accurate, articulate confession of Jesus’ personhood. We often look for such testimonies without supplying the power of healing Jesus offered.
The model of this man’s conversion, however, is not simply about desperation and healing. He is courageous. He valiantly holds fast to what he cannot deny. His thinking runs as follows: Jesus had healed him; only God can do such things; therefore, Jesus must be from God. But his intellectual courage is matched by his personal fearlessness as he suffers persecution for his courage. The intellectual and religious leaders despise his testimony and want him to pay a price for holding to it. This drama is also a part of John’s conversion model. To embrace faith in Jesus Christ will come with consequences: social isolation, punishment, perhaps martyrdom.
It is significant that John’s story moves quickly away from the sheer fact of Jesus’ miracle-working capacity to the identity of the One who heals. The man’s faith is not in the miracle-working ability of Jesus. This is only the springboard. His faith quickly connects with the true identity of who Jesus is. He is “the Lord,” and he rightly ought to be worshiped. To my mind, this is the ultimate test of any healing ministry, and this is what makes me suspicious of some healing ministries today that enjoy a national profile. To what extent is Jesus glorified and worshiped? Are the miracles themselves center stage or is Jesus Christ, whose power and work is displayed through them?
There is one final note that most American evangelicals probably miss in this story. As far as the Jewish leaders are concerned, in order to follow Jesus the blind man can no longer be considered a follower of Moses. The sharp line they draw in 9:29 between being Jewish and Christian (to use modern terms) seems clear to them, though it is unresolved yet today. This is problematic for two reasons. (1) Jewish-Christians today insist that they have not given up their Judaism, but they are severely criticized by the Jewish community. In modern-day Israel, a Jew can give up everything about his or her faith, even becoming an atheist, and still be considered a Jew in order to take up Israeli citizenship. The one thing that invalidates “Jewishness” is belief in Jesus. The deep irony is that an atheist is still Jewish, but a “messianic Jew” is not.13
(2) Theologically as a Christian, I need to say that I am still a follower of Moses when I believe in Jesus. By believing in Jesus I am doing what Moses would have done. Jesus does not break with Moses; rather, he fulfills what Moses began. In this sense, Christians are being faithful to the Jewish tradition inasmuch as they are embracing a Jewish Messiah. The rabbi Paul would have considered himself no less a Jew even though he believed in Jesus.
The temple leadership: a model of spiritual intransigence. Perhaps the most troubling questions to surface in this passage have to do with the profile of Jesus’ opponents. The image of them in chapter 9 is different from that given of Jesus’ opponents in chapters 5 and 8. These are theologians, religious leaders, whose rejection of Jesus is based not simply on his refusal to conform to their religious system, but on their knowledge of who he is. They stand against Jesus from an informed theological standpoint. They are aggressive; and according to the end of the chapter, because they are self-affirming, claiming that “they know,” their sin cannot disappear. If they rejected Jesus out of ignorance, it would be a different matter. But they reject Jesus out of knowledge, and so their “guilt remains” (9:41).
(1) John opens a question that he does not answer. Is it possible to “be blind” and yet not guilty of sin (9:41a) because of genuine spiritual ignorance (9:41b)? I imagine that this would be a person who is in the darkness, who cannot recognize God’s work in Christ, and who thus rejects Jesus—but the rejection is based ignorance. Certainly John would affirm that anyone who is in the darkness is in spiritual jeopardy regardless of his or her intellectual, religious position. But he has here framed the question in a provocative, unexpected way. I think, for instance, of a Jewish neighbor I had in Chicago, for whom the Holocaust had forever made Christianity a horror. He entered a Catholic church one weekend for the first time in twenty-five years in order to attend a wedding, and the crucifix above the altar paralyzed him. There on the wall was one more dying Jew. He could not hear the name of Jesus without hearing the voice of Nazis.
(2) John’s real interest is to examine the position of a person who has a knowing, willful religious rejection of Jesus. Of course, we could point to the old debate between synagogue and church and project that into our current generation. But in the church there has always been (and continues to be today) those from within our own ranks who reject Jesus knowingly. They know the rudiments of the orthodox faith, they know our theological traditions, they may have experienced the life of a Christian, but they say “No.” This is called heresy or apostasy, and we need to be able to name it when it appears.
I am always reluctant to provide an example since it is impossible to know what private spiritual work God may be doing in someone’s life. But an example does come to mind. John Shelby Spong is an Episcopal bishop in Newark, New Jersey. He is a prolific writer, whose work chiefly dismantles most of the sacred beliefs of the church. In Living in Sin: A Bishop Rethinks Human Sexuality (1990) he called for the church to recognize same-sex marriages and homosexual ordination. In Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism: A Bishop Rethinks the Meaning of Scripture (1992) he argued that Paul was gay. In Born of a Woman: A Bishop Rethinks the Birth of Jesus (1994) he argued that the virgin birth was a tactic to cover up Jesus’ illegitimacy and that Jesus himself may have married Mary Magdalene. His most current work is Why Christianity Must Change or Die (1998), where he argues that the worldview of Christianity is outdated and that all theism and supernatural assumptions must go if the church is going to speak to a modern world. Other religious systems have died, he says, and Christianity is simply the next system on the chopping block. He likes shock value. Typically he writes, “I would choose to loathe rather than to worship a deity who required the sacrifice of his son.”
Here is an educated, ordained theologian who knows his Bible well and understands the basic tenets of orthodox Christology. He plainly admits that from the view of traditional Christianity, what he writes is “heresy.” This is precisely what we need to be willing to say to those who (like Spong) make a major departure from belief in Jesus.
Of course, the challenge for us is to determine who fits this profile and what beliefs qualify as heresy. But our fear of launching attitudes last seen in the Inquisition have made us unable to judge religious error for what it is. In C. S. Lewis’s wonderful book The Great Divorce, Lewis describes a busload of folks who travel from hell to heaven. The roster of tourists has as many intellectuals as it does base heathen. As I often tell my students, hell will have more than its share of thoughtful theologians.