Lent 4A 1 Samuel 16:1--13, Psalm 23, Ephesians 5:1--14, John 9:1--38 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder, Chaplain Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi March 6, 2005 May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen. Her name was Sally … or maybe it was Mary … or maybe even Sharon. I don't remember her name to tell you the truth, but what I do remember was her enthusiasm, her love for life, her dignity, her calling for us, the way she captured us, the way we hung on each and every word, each and every syllable--the way in which the Kingdom opened up a little wider for us that day. We were in Ocean Springs some fourteen years ago. You've sometimes heard me speak of Happening weekends--significant moments for me--of transformation and renewal and understanding God more clearly--or at least God's plan for me … I think. Happening was a big part of my formative life early within this church. I remember those moments of expression, and joy and pain and pushing through together, hoping that things would work out, that we'd stay on task or that we were ever--aiming for the target, hoping to spread the message of God's love … while at the same time, hoping that we'd keep to the schedule … keep on task … be orderly ... that for things to work they had to follow our outlines. And, I remember the day the clock stopped--if only for a little while--and we became lost in wonder, love and praise in a new way … something out of our ordinary. There we were--a rag-tag group of teenagers and young adults, older adults and others helping out--forming an insular community, all with hopes of being thrust forth from that place to do God's work in the world. And then she showed up … this Sally, or Mary, or Sharon. I wish I could remember her name. Our regimen … our schedule … our closed community was entered into upon her arrival. For many of us, she changed the ways we had looked at things. Thanks be to God! For many of us, what we were preparing folks for "out there" had come to us … there … in person. Some of the others on staff had met her on our one shower break during the weekend. She was sitting at a bus stop eating a sandwich, when she began a conversation with some of them as they were passing by. Later we would find out that this was a usual spot for her to spend her days. She saw the crosses they wore around their necks. She saw their joyfulness, heard their laughter. Who would have guessed that two hours later, she might become a bishop of sorts to us--minister, pastor, shepherd, prophet? God works in mysterious ways! Now two hours later, we were already getting behind schedule. Showers had taken a little longer than expected. We were in the midst of rounding up folks who had left the church grounds. We were re--grouping, coming back into community, getting ready to be back underway, when James, our weekend rector, called us together to meet her. Everything stopped--all the behind the scenes work, all the kitchen preparations, all the busy--ness that goes into the weekend. We gathered in the large foyer of the church. As she began to speak, we soon realized that we were receiving a sacred commission--a better understanding of our call. This woman came to us, seeking us out to share a bit of the Good News of God in Christ as she had come to know it. We learned early on that she was homeless and that she had been for quite some time. We could tell. It was obvious to us at first glance. Her face was weather--worn. Her clothes were shabby, her hair askew, her socks peeking through her shoes. Everything she owned she either wore, or could fit into a single grocery cart, which she had bravely left unattended at the Church door. But she did not linger on the part of the story that saw her evicted from her home. Our minds were quickly filling with questions: Who is she? Where has she come from? How can we help her? … But she had not come to answer these questions--to focus on herself and her own needs. She never bemoaned life on the street. She didn't define herself within the little box in which others outside--and even we within that community--had on a surface--level neatly packaged her as "bag lady." No, there before us stood a woman of deep and profound faith--embodiment of the Spirit, filled with life and laughter, sharing her part of the story, sharing with us her Jesus--a Jesus who was with her … a Jesus who walked with her. Of course it was difficult for us, in the beginning, to look beyond her situation. At first, we were more caught up in what she would have for dinner that evening, if anything at all, or where she'd sleep, or if her threadbare coat would be enough for her in the cold weather of that January. And these were all important questions racing through our minds, don't get me wrong! But she had not journeyed from her bus stop to linger on that part of the story. She had asked to come to us to share a glimpse into the larger picture, to paint for us a story of blessing. The more she shared with us, the more we came to understand a profound faith that saw through the temporal realities in which she found herself. She painted for us with vivid and eloquent words a portrait of love … the love of God … with enthusiasm, with zeal, with passion, with compassion. She spoke with conviction, with surety, with a sense of rightness. Indeed, she became a shepherd to us in that moment. She spoke the truth in love, through her own story, her own witness, her testimony--all words from which Episcopalians usually shy away. She sermonized and homilized and testified, and it was real, and it was raw, and it was Good. And she charged us to continue on the journey--to nurture our faith, to seek, to ask, to knock. She told us of a Jesus who comes to us despite … despite situation … despite stumbling blocks … despite all the mess in our lives that would otherwise consume us. And she blessed us in that moment--when the schedule no longer existed, when our eyes were opened up … in that moment when we recognized more fully that our God dwells amongst us and that we are often called to look beyond the norm, or what we think we know, towards a fuller reality--a fuller reality that, in this case, showed us that we needed as much of a helping hand in life as we had first thought her to need. She had much more to offer us than we could her. And then, as quickly as she had appeared to our friends, she was gone. She left us with a sense of hope, of love--of God's love. Today we encounter through the Scriptures two individuals who were least expected … one, least expected to become the anointed King of Israel, the other a blind man, an outcast, a beggar, someone dismissed by most within his small corner of the world. David was the youngest of Jesse's children. Samuel, though guided by the Lord, was ready at the sight of Eliab to offer God's anointing, because he was Jesse's firstborn, the eldest, tall, and good looking. Surely this is what God would desire in an anointed king! But, as we are told, God does not see as mortals see. Rather, God sees to the heart. God sees us for who we are. David, the chosen, was not tall in stature. Was he the red--headed stepchild? No, but he was the youngest, not even put in the original line--up, but rather left to tend the flock--a Cinderella story of sorts. But then the worldview is turned upside down, isn't it? David becomes the anointed king and among the greatest of heroes in the story of Israel. God works in mysterious ways! So too does God work through the story of the blind man in John's gospel. We get a lot of information details about what would have been normative in Jewish society and religious practice here: bodily ailment relegated to sinfulness; lowered expectations for those who are different; issues of credibility because of perception by others; and just who had power within the culture. The list goes on. Yet Jesus, once again, upends the worldview by miracle--working on the Sabbath, dumbfounding and impressing some, angering others amongst the Pharisees. The saying "We are not worthy. God makes worthy those who are called" keeps playing through my mind in the context of the these readings. Jesus challenges people's ways of thinking … ways of seeing the world around them--ways that are "stuck" in unfruitful and compromising cycles. First, comes an incredibly powerful teaching moment for the disciples, when Jesus tells them that through the blind man, God's acting in this world will become more evident. Jesus' actions in making the mud and smearing it on the eyes of the blind man is by far a greater opportunity for the showing forth of God's work in the world than is adherence to the law. But the Pharisees don't get it. They're stuck! Those who have seen the blind man day--in--and--day--out for years even question whether or not this is the same man when they see that he has his sight. They're stuck! The Pharisees can't get over the fact that this formerly blind man has something to teach them. They question his integrity. They belittle him. They even ask his parents to come testify on his behalf, but though they do proclaim that he was born blind, that he is their son, that's as far as their willing to go. Even his parents leave him hanging. They're all stuck! All of a sudden, the former blind man is on his own. But he's not stuck. He goes to the pool to wash, participating in part, in his own healing. And then comes the moment of truth. Will he testify? Will the blind man be a witness? Will he prove that he is not stuck--that he gets it? He gives testimony to the working of Christ in the world even to the point of being shunned within his own community. He is rejected, thrown out of the synagogue. And then, what happens next is perhaps even more powerful than anything else that has happened. Jesus comes to him. Jesus, who has gone on about his business, reenters the picture and by doing so offers an opportunity for the once--blind man to truly profess his faith. The blind man is blessed in that moment--realizing most fully that he is not abandoned, realizing that the Kingdom of God has come near to him. This personal knowledge of Jesus, by professing him as the Son of Man, leads the man into faith, which then moves him into worship. Indeed his eyes were opened wide that day! Where is it that we're stuck? Today? In our own lives? In our lives together? In our own ways we are called to be wide--eyed … ready to receive the story, ready to claim Jesus as all we ever need or needed, ready to receive the revelation of God amongst us and in that world out there--even when we least expect it and especially amongst those who are the least likely. We see this in the anointing of David. The blind man came to know this. Sally, or Mary or Sharon certainly knew this presence of God in her life, too. We are called to see for ourselves, to wait senses--wide--open to receive our God who comes to us even when all we dare say is: "I once was blind and now I see. Further than that, I can't explain it." Because, that's the starting point. That's the moment when the wheels of true revelation begin to move. That's when conviction moves us towards faith, and into a fuller relationship with God. This Lent, may we all be open to the working of God in our lives. May we realize the presence of God in our own day. May we ever share this message of hope in that world out there--that world that waits, whether it realizes it or not, to be dumbfounded, to be fed, to be opened up. In the Holy Name of Jesus Christ. Amen.