"Blink" (a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)
I found myself chuckling while reading John Chapter 9, one of this week's Lectionary passages.
Now, if you did what I think you did, you jumped out and read the passage ... and are no doubt wondering if I have lost my mind. How could it be, you might be pondering, that I would think a story about a blind man is humorous? What could possibly be funny about a man who was born blind? A story about a man who, now an adult, has spent his entire life in actual darkness; how is that funny? What's so humorous about a man who was ostracized all of those years because it was commonly believed people with disabilities had brought the situation upon themselves? You're right. There is nothing funny about any of that.
What IS funny to me is how everyone ELSE acts after Jesus restores the man's sight (Jesus rubs mud in his eyes and sends him off to wash in Siloam's fountain). And the reason I find it funny is this: Several decades ago, I married into a family that includes several people with visual challenges. Over the years they have been gracious enough to teach me this key lesson: blind people are just like everyone else; they just also have a visual challenge to deal with. I know blind people who would, upon reading this story in John Chapter 9, be chuckling and shaking their heads; identifying with their fellow "blink". They would readily recognize the words and actions of the sighted people in this story as similar treatment to which they have been subjected.
When blind people socialize, it is common to share stories about the stupid things sighted people do and say upon encountering people who are visually challenged. For example: asking if the blind person knows sign language. The only reason a blind person would need to know sign language is if they were also deaf (like Helen Keller). Among the more vexing is a person who acts as if the blind person cannot speak for himself, and/or, similarly, referencing them in the third person as if they were not actually present.
I was lucky to be present on some occasions when Uncle JQ (a wonderful man who was both blind and a hilarious raconteur) told this tale of a cross-country airplane trip. The stewardess (they weren't called "flight attendant" until later) came by to take orders for alcoholic beverages. JQ was in the center seat. After taking orders of the two men seated to either side of him, she asked the man sitting on JQ's left, someone JQ did not know and had never even spoken with, if JQ would like some juice. To which JQ replied (and he would already be cackling with joy at this point as he related the tale to us), "No, I would NOT like a juice. *I* would like a scotch on the rocks!"
Something like that is happening in verses 8-33. The people are talking about the formerly blind man as if he is not present. They are debating whether THIS man is the same man who used to sit out here and beg. Back and forth, back and forth. And the entire time, the man keeps saying, "I am the man!" But no one is listening.
After the local folk finally decide to hear him, they switch to interrogating him about the process of his miracle. Isn't that just like people? Standing before them is a miracle; and instead of rejoicing that the man's sight has been restored, they want to pick the thing to pieces. Finally, after squeezing all the details out of him, they ask him to point them to where Jesus is. In other words, "If you're so special that someone restored your sight, point him out!" The scripture records the man replying, "I don't know." But you can bet he was thinking something like, "Hello-o! Blind guy! How could I tell you where he is? *I* didn't see him!"
Later, when the Pharisees are grilling him about the miracle (and not believing what they are hearing), they turn to his parents(!) for confirmation, as if he were a child. Imagine being these parents and having to say, "We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age.(!) He will speak for himself."
The final chuckle, which has everything to do with lack of vision and nothing to do with lack of sight, comes when the former blind man says, astonished, "You (the religious leaders of Israel) do not know where he (Jesus) comes from, and yet he opened my eyes!" Blind people have learned through experience that sighted people will often say and do some pretty asinine things to and around blind people. They've also learned that, sometimes, you just gotta laugh about it.
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This week's passages are all about vision, light and dark, seeing correctly. I especially liked Ist Samuel 6:7 and Ephesians 5:8-10.
READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Fourth Sunday in Lent (April 3, 2011)
1 Samuel 16:1-13
Psalm 23
Ephesians 5:8-14
John 9:1-41
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
"Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever."
(Photo courtesy of pdphoto.org)
In the movie, THE REPLACEMENTS, while urging his offensive squad to give their all for one last game, substitute Quarterback Shane Falco says, “Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever.” While I might like to contend with Mr. Falco about his first and third assertions at some future point, I have (blessedly) had almost no experience with physical scars, and thus have no basis to know how attractive they are to chicks. And, while I think I now know a little bit about spiritual scars, I have no way of knowing whether chicks dig them or not. What I do know about spiritual scars is that they are all but invisible to people who don’t have any.
Does the future butterfly feel pain while it is forming (re-forming?) in its chrysalis? That is an answer I would like to know. With us humans, when God is shaping (or re-shaping) us, there is usually a good deal of pain. When the caterpillar moves along its entombed journey to its new life, does it sleep a deep, painless sleep; or does it struggle against the process; resisting, holding back? When God is pulling the skin away from the little pilgrim’s body to use in creating its wings, does it feel pain? I do know that we hold back, resisting the process of becoming.
And, another challenge to our personal reformations, we are not good at recognizing the process in ourselves or others. As a youth, the older, wiser, “solid” people I met (and somewhat idolized), those whose discipleship of Jesus appeared effortless, seemed to my limited experience to just BE that way. Process was not a concept I thought much about. And when I would read some author claiming that “real” change is “forged in pain” or some similar allusion, I usually thought, ungraciously I now see, that this person must be deficient in some way. Else, why have to go through the pain? Obviously (so my youthful thoughts went), God could easily change those who would just yield to his loving touch; only the truly recalcitrant would have to be wrenched into shape. Since then, experience has taught me much.
My experience has been that, as God shapes (wrenches, pounds, slams, stretches, flattens, crams) me, I begin to perceive a tiny bit more of the process, in myself and in others. I have been shocked lately to realize—after all these years of thinking I was on the potter’s wheel, being spun by God into a vessel of significance—that I am still just a lump of clay being “thrown.” God has just been loosening me up, making me more malleable for the real work ahead. Here I thought, based on the pounding I’ve taken so far, that I was on my way to being a God-shaped vessel, destined for spiritual service of some importance; having completely forgotten that the truly delicate work of spiritual shaping can only be done with the most malleable of materials.
So, when I observe the delicate beauty of the butterfly, when I find myself thinking “WOW!” about the glory of God’s handiwork in that creature, I have to remind myself that the little pilgrim got like that the hard way. In fact, there really is no other way. If a butterfly is to have wings—and how to be one without them?—then it must, somewhat like Eustace in Lewis’ VOYAGE OF THE DAWN TREADER, have its skin pulled away from its body; without that skin there can be no wings.
And, if I am to become what God has in mind for me, I must transit the process, whatever it is, however challenging it may seem at the time. But, unlike the caterpillar-cum-butterfly, I do not have to take this journey alone. There are others. And … I am, finally, beginning to recognize them.
Praise God.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Real Me
I think I have mentioned elsewhere that I was shy when I was young; not the "aw shucks" kind of shy; the "oh-please-let-me-fade-into-this-wall" kind of shy. It was in the 7th grade that I decided to do something about this problem. I undertook this endeavor as a subset of a larger enterprise. I had finally come to the conclusion that I was going to have to take the reins of my life because, apparently, no one else was going to. Everyone in my life seemed pretty busy, too busy to provide any guidance to me. And so, I began to make decisions for myself.
One set of those decisions were related to my realization that, somehow, I had to overcome my debilitating shyness. It was my observation that most people seemed to be able to hold conversations, be comfortable in groups, and have friends. Wanting that for myself, I started making changes. They were painful. Over the next few years I joined student organizations so I would be forced into social situations, took a Speech class (that was awful), auditioned for and acted in school plays (more nerve-wracking than the Speech class, but of blessedly shorter duration). I even signed up to run for Student Council Representative. I believe I may hold the record for most consecutive unsuccessful runs for SC Rep (grades 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11).
One thing I did that was not a part of this campaign to overcome my shyness was join the student newspaper. I decided I wanted to write; so I took a journalism course and helped lay out the paper. Becoming a writer was a long-term goal, and I didn't allow myself to apply any pressure toward it's accomplishment. However, it was while working on the student newspaper that my name became known to my peers. And I discovered something new about me: I really LIKED being known. Unexpected, unplanned; I began in earnest my slow climb out of my shyness because I liked that people knew the me that was a writer for the school paper. I had a long way to go, but it was a start.
Being known. It's important. My young self was almost overcome by that first whiff of being known. Very heady stuff.
One of the many interesting things one learns by reading the Bible is that there are several names for God, different ways that He is known; names such as Yahweh or Jehovah ("God who preserves what he creates") and El Shaddai ("God Almighty"). The writers of the books record the names revealed to His people and they record the names His people ascribed to Him. This latter group are usually combination names, such as Jehovah Jireh ("My God will provide").
My all time favorite, though, was not ascribed to God by one of the writers; in fact, it was not even given Him by someone of power, stature, or position. The name appears only once, in Genesis Chapter 16, and it is spoken by an Egyptian slave. I immediately thought of his story when I read the Genesis 12:1-4 passage in this week's Lectionary readings.
There is so much that is interesting about this story. Abram's wife, Sarai, is old; well past the fertile years. There is no earthly basis for her to believe she will be able to become pregnant or, even if so, that she could successfully carry the child to term. Having lost faith in God's promise that she would become a mother in her own right, she "gives" her slave, Hagar, to Abram as a second wife. She reasons "The Lord has not given me any children. Sleep with my slave, and if she has a child, it will be mine." For his part, we're not sure what Abram was thinking. Maybe he really believed THIS arrangement was how God was going to make him "a great nation". Whatever his thoughts, in short order Hagar becomes pregnant and, also in short order, proud (that she is carrying THE HEIR) and hateful to Sarai.
I doubt anyone will be shocked to learn that Sarai retaliated; nor that Hagar soon ran away. And it is while she is on the run that she has an encounter with God. Hagar is not what you would call a sympathetic character. True, her situation stems from another person's lack of faith, and from the acts of a person who views Hagar as having value in only whatever ways Hagar proves useful. It's not a story through which runs the milk of human kindness. Frankly, I was pretty surprised when God took an interest in her. Yet, He did. And in a profound way. As a result of this encounter, Hagar thinks, “Have I really seen God and lived to tell about it?” So from then on she called him, “The God Who Sees Me.”
She NAMES God!
I used to be in awe of this passage for that reason alone. But as time went on, and I continued to return to this story, I became more enamored of the question: WHY did Hagar name Him "The God Who Sees Me"? For the longest time, I held the belief that Hagar, being a slave, saw herself as someone who was NOT seen by others; that is, not valued enough by others to REALLY see the real Hagar. Thankfully, with the passage of years, God has rescued me from that errancy.
Now I know the truth: we ALL have a need to be known. And I, for one, am very happy to know that God "sees me"; to have confidence that He sees my good intentions along with my failed executions, sees my belief while helping my unbelief, sees my selfish desires as well as my attempts to store up the right kinds of treasures. The real me. The person I am ... and the person I aspire to become.
#################################
READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday in Lent (March 20, 2011)
Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 121
Romans 4:1-5, 13-17
John 3:1-17 or Matthew 17:1-9
If you're in Waco this Friday morning, join us at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse) for a tasty breakfast and more of the above.
Enjoy!
Steve
One set of those decisions were related to my realization that, somehow, I had to overcome my debilitating shyness. It was my observation that most people seemed to be able to hold conversations, be comfortable in groups, and have friends. Wanting that for myself, I started making changes. They were painful. Over the next few years I joined student organizations so I would be forced into social situations, took a Speech class (that was awful), auditioned for and acted in school plays (more nerve-wracking than the Speech class, but of blessedly shorter duration). I even signed up to run for Student Council Representative. I believe I may hold the record for most consecutive unsuccessful runs for SC Rep (grades 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11).
One thing I did that was not a part of this campaign to overcome my shyness was join the student newspaper. I decided I wanted to write; so I took a journalism course and helped lay out the paper. Becoming a writer was a long-term goal, and I didn't allow myself to apply any pressure toward it's accomplishment. However, it was while working on the student newspaper that my name became known to my peers. And I discovered something new about me: I really LIKED being known. Unexpected, unplanned; I began in earnest my slow climb out of my shyness because I liked that people knew the me that was a writer for the school paper. I had a long way to go, but it was a start.
Being known. It's important. My young self was almost overcome by that first whiff of being known. Very heady stuff.
One of the many interesting things one learns by reading the Bible is that there are several names for God, different ways that He is known; names such as Yahweh or Jehovah ("God who preserves what he creates") and El Shaddai ("God Almighty"). The writers of the books record the names revealed to His people and they record the names His people ascribed to Him. This latter group are usually combination names, such as Jehovah Jireh ("My God will provide").
My all time favorite, though, was not ascribed to God by one of the writers; in fact, it was not even given Him by someone of power, stature, or position. The name appears only once, in Genesis Chapter 16, and it is spoken by an Egyptian slave. I immediately thought of his story when I read the Genesis 12:1-4 passage in this week's Lectionary readings.
There is so much that is interesting about this story. Abram's wife, Sarai, is old; well past the fertile years. There is no earthly basis for her to believe she will be able to become pregnant or, even if so, that she could successfully carry the child to term. Having lost faith in God's promise that she would become a mother in her own right, she "gives" her slave, Hagar, to Abram as a second wife. She reasons "The Lord has not given me any children. Sleep with my slave, and if she has a child, it will be mine." For his part, we're not sure what Abram was thinking. Maybe he really believed THIS arrangement was how God was going to make him "a great nation". Whatever his thoughts, in short order Hagar becomes pregnant and, also in short order, proud (that she is carrying THE HEIR) and hateful to Sarai.
I doubt anyone will be shocked to learn that Sarai retaliated; nor that Hagar soon ran away. And it is while she is on the run that she has an encounter with God. Hagar is not what you would call a sympathetic character. True, her situation stems from another person's lack of faith, and from the acts of a person who views Hagar as having value in only whatever ways Hagar proves useful. It's not a story through which runs the milk of human kindness. Frankly, I was pretty surprised when God took an interest in her. Yet, He did. And in a profound way. As a result of this encounter, Hagar thinks, “Have I really seen God and lived to tell about it?” So from then on she called him, “The God Who Sees Me.”
She NAMES God!
I used to be in awe of this passage for that reason alone. But as time went on, and I continued to return to this story, I became more enamored of the question: WHY did Hagar name Him "The God Who Sees Me"? For the longest time, I held the belief that Hagar, being a slave, saw herself as someone who was NOT seen by others; that is, not valued enough by others to REALLY see the real Hagar. Thankfully, with the passage of years, God has rescued me from that errancy.
Now I know the truth: we ALL have a need to be known. And I, for one, am very happy to know that God "sees me"; to have confidence that He sees my good intentions along with my failed executions, sees my belief while helping my unbelief, sees my selfish desires as well as my attempts to store up the right kinds of treasures. The real me. The person I am ... and the person I aspire to become.
#################################
READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday in Lent (March 20, 2011)
Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 121
Romans 4:1-5, 13-17
John 3:1-17 or Matthew 17:1-9
If you're in Waco this Friday morning, join us at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse) for a tasty breakfast and more of the above.
Enjoy!
Steve
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