Jesus spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the eyes of the man born blind, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then we went and washed and came back able to see.

John 9:6-7

Beloved of God,

It was a beautiful fall afternoon—a perfect day for football—and I’d taken up my position on the sidelines to watch my son Nathan play in the first game of his senior year in high school.  The opposing team had the football and was moving it down field.  On second down, the fullback broke through the right side and Nathan pursued. As they collided, the fullback put his hand out and his thumb slipped between the bars of Nathan’s helmet, hitting him square in the left cheek and eye. Stunned, Nathan fell to the turf and didn’t get up.  I ran onto the field. 

He pulled off his helmet: DAD, IS MY EYE STILL IN?  Yes, Nathan, it’s in.  DAD?  Yes, Son.  MY CONTACT.

Nathan had gotten contacts the month before; this was the first game in which he’d worn them.  Looking at his injured eye, I couldn’t tell if the contact was still in or out.  I knew he needed immediate medical attention. The team trainer put a sock full of ice over his eye, wrapping it with an ace bandage to keep it in place.  I ran to get my van while the coaches helped Nathan to the sideline.  Then we headed for the emergency room.

The doctor took one look at Nathan’s eye and decided he needed to be seen by a specialist.  While we waited, I tried to reassure Nathan that everything would be all right, all the while wondering if I was telling the truth or lying.  By the time the X-rays were done, the eye specialist had arrived.  Ever so gingerly he examined Nathan and assessed the damage.  The X-rays confirmed what he suspected: Nathan had a BLOWOUT fracture.  The force of the collision had shattered the sub-orbital bone below his left eye and pushed his eyeball back and down.  It was impossible to tell without proper equipment whether he’d sustained permanent damage or not.  The next 72 hours would be critical.  Nathan was to stay on complete bed rest at home, keeping both eyes closed. By the time we left the hospital that night, Nathan’s world had shrunk. His left eye had disappeared completely under the swelling tissue that surrounded it. My eyes were his eyes now. Would he see out of that eye again? Only time would tell.  Thankfully, over the ensuing weeks, Nathan’s eye did recover and his sight returned. Soli deo gloria!

Our Lenten journey during March has us spending considerable time in the Gospel of John.  For four weeks running our gospel readings will explore stories of encounters between Jesus and various characters—Jesus and Nicodemus (March 1); Jesus and the Samaritan woman (March 8); Jesus and the man born blind (March 15); and Jesus and Mary, Martha, and Lazarus (March 22).  Each encounter gives us insight into who Jesus is and how God’s work in him brings new hope and possibilities to our skeptical, weary world.  Each story speaks to the process of transformation that attends our lives in Christ.  Together these stories have served as the church’s “core curriculum” for centuries for those preparing for baptism at Easter. On March 15 we’ll hear the story of how Jesus healed a man born blind.  It’s a story about physical sight and spiritual sight; and a story about what it means to see in Jesus God’s light come into the world and the consequences of living out that insight.  This story, like so many in John’s gospel, gives us a lot to unpack.  For example, John doesn’t use a personal name for the character in the story, he only identifies him simply as “anthropos” – “man”; which raises the question of whether John wants us to see this man and his blindness as a stand-in for all humankind.

When Jesus makes mud with the earth and his own spittle and spreads it on the man’s eyes, we hear echoes of the creation story where God scoped up a handful of earth—ADAMAH—and shaped it into the first human being—ADAM.   If this echo we hear rings true, Jesus is not simply opening the eyes of a blind man—he’s bringing a new creation into being, and acting as God himself acted “in the beginning.”  Over the course of the story, the sight of the formerly blind man—on multiple levels—becomes clearer while those religious leaders best positioned to “see” God’s work in the world prove themselves to be blind. To live the baptismal life is to have our sight sharpened; to begin to see the world as Christ sees it; to begin to see one another as Christ sees us.

There are voices in our country—very loud ones—who want us, when we look at our neighbors, not to see potential friends but rather clear enemies; not fellow human beings created in God’s image but dangerous and threatening criminals. But dear Siblings in Christ, we who have had our eyes rinsed clear in baptismal waters have been given a new lens for viewing the world and each other, and that lens changes everything.  Ambrose, the 4^th century bishop of Milan, put it this way:

YOU WENT, YOU WASHED, YOU CAME TO THE ALTAR, YOU BEGAN TO SEE WHAT YOU HAD NOT SEEN BEFORE.[1]  During Lent we are invited to see what we had not seen before. To reject dehumanizing rhetoric, to resist meanness and lies, and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.  A simple calling, but one that takes a lifetime investment to make our own.     

With you on the Way,

Pastor Erik

[1] Quoted in Our Sight Restored, author and publisher unknown.

“If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday….and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.”  – Isaiah 58:9b-11

Fellow travelers,

Over the course of the month of February this year we walk the bridge from the Season of Light to the Season of Lent.  Lent’s threshold—Ash Wednesday—is February 18, but before we get there we become witness to Jesus, Peter, James, and John on the Mount of Transfiguration.  The word used by Matthew to describe what happens on that mountain is “metamorpheo,” the root of the  English word “metamorphosis,” which we use to describe the process by which caterpillars turn into butterflies. 

The stages of metamorphosis—egg, larvae, pupa, adult—each have their own characteristics.  And, in nature’s wisdom, each stage prepares the way for the next and no stage can be skipped over.  The same can be said about the journey of Lent. After the feasting that accompanies Christmas and Epiphany (and Super Bowls), we pack away the decorations and take our cue from nature’s resting time.  Returning to the core identity we were given in baptism, we journey with Jesus into the wilderness for a time of incubation; a fasting from those things which get in the way of our relationship with God and prevent us from seeing our neighbor also as “beloved.” 

The Season of Lent reminds me of the “pupa” stage in the life cycle of butterflies.  Forty days of incubation in the wilderness; an interior reorientation. But just as it may seem from the outside that nothing is really happening to a “pupa”, nothing could be further from the truth!  During the pupa stage the caterpillar’s internal tissues, muscles, and organs break down into a kind of “soup.” Then, following instructions coded in their DNA, special cells called “imaginal discs” (love the name!) grow rapidly into wings and legs, eyes and antennae.  Tracheal tubes (for breathing) expand; the gut shrinks in preparation for the adult diet, and the caterpillar molts one last time to form a chrysalis—a protective casing.  This interior transformation is largely hidden from view.  The passage from Isaiah 58 (above) reminds us that while transformation begins internally it is manifested externally. 

As I’ve watched the unfolding crisis in Minneapolis created by the mass deployment of Immigration Enforcement officers (ICE) using deeply disturbing, violent tactics against immigrants and citizens alike—including the senseless murder of U.S. citizens, Renee Good and Alex Pretti—I’ve found myself profoundly moved by the community’s response there.  Family members of mine living in neighborhoods where the ICE activity has occurred have shared firsthand accounts of ICE’s militarized takeover and the desperate cries of immigrant and citizen alike who’ve been caught up in ICE’s net. They’ve also shared the widespread, compassionate, and organized response of church communities, neighborhood groups, and other people of goodwill, who have come together in profound ways to challenge the inhumanity and unlawfulness of the federal crackdown and to support those who live in constant fear of being abducted, assaulted, or separated from loved ones. 

Braving below zero temperatures, groups of dozens, hundreds, and in some cases thousands of Minnesotans, have applied their spirit-fueled imaginations to deliver meals, provide transportation, support immigrant restaurants, and lift their voices in song to support their neighbors—an inspired counterpoint to the worn out racist tropes, fear mongering rhetoric, and self-justifying rationale offered by the Administration.  Sister congregations such as Holy Trinity Lutheran, Our Savior’s Lutheran, San Pablo Lutheran, along with others of many denominations, are doing all that they can to lift the yoke that presses down, like the heel of a boot, on their neighbors’ lives.  As they offer ”food to the hungry and satisfying the needs of the afflicted,” light is rising in the darkness and gloom of the deep Minnesota winter. This is the Spirit of God at work—and the world is taking notice. 

As we begin the journey of Lent together – the pupa stage of our spiritual life – our siblings in Minnesota are showing us what is possible when the DNA of Jesus Christ finds outward expression in the BNA of public witness: BE NOT AFRAID. There is much they can teach us.

With you on the Way,

Pastor Erik