Sam Wells, Anglican priest and one time Dean of the Chapel at Duke University, recounts a visit he and some friends made to the Blind Cow Restaurant in Zurich, Switzerland. The Blind Cow serves to support the community of visually blind and sight impaired individuals. All the staff members are either completely blind or have some inability to see well. The diner, upon entering the building, is immediately thrust into total darkness, and must rely on the other four senses for the culinary experience. Sam’s crew walked in with hands on the shoulder of the other, hoping no one trip them by seeking to play a cruel trick. Once seated, their hosts guided them through the meal, which was pleasant, but challenging. This was, as Sam would say, an “eye opening” experience.
How do we see deeply into the precious matters of faith and life, some of which seem to make no sense at all? Annie Dillard, in her autobiographical narrative titled Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, has a chapter called “Sight”. She begins by talking about a childhood obsession of hers, in which she would take a precious penny of hers and hide it where folks could potentially find it. She would draw chalk arrows and then write, SURPRISE AHEAD or MONEY THIS WAY. Reflecting on this practice, she writes that for those of us living on this blessed planet, “The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand.” About the illumination that comes from noticing the glories of the world, she writes, “I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam.” So, in terms of faith, how do we do that?
Faith is a call to learn new ways to see. In John 9, Jesus meets someone who was born blind, and eventually heals this person. He does so by mixing some of his saliva with dirt to make a mud paste and putting it in the man’s eyes. He then tells him to go wash in the pool of Siloam. After coming up from the waters, he can see. What follows is a lengthy and sometimes contentious conversation among Jesus, the healed person and the offended religious leaders. The last group believed that Jesus had violated the Sabbath in making the paste, and by urging the man to go to bathe. At heart, Jesus chose to bless this man’s life in some of the most common, and indeed, offensive ways possible. Wonder why?
We’ll chat about this on Sunday, as the sermon is titled, “A Tender and Grimy Grace”, language taken from a poem by Jan Richardson. John 9: 1-11 will be read by Ken Beckley, and Leigh Richey will read John 9: 24-38. We will sing, pray and have a time for children. The Chancel Choir, accompanied by Ilze Akerbergs, will lead us musically.