Read: John 9:1-41

The disciples’ question of “who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind” (v. 2) grates on me because people behave similarly when it comes to autism. There are the people who believe that my decision to vaccinate Daniel caused his autism, The study by Dr. Andrew Wakefield that linked autism to the MMR vaccine has been disproven multiple times over, and Dr. Wakefield has been stricken from the British Medical Register for committing fraud in the course of that study, so the assertion that Daniel’s autism was caused by being vaccinated is ludicrous. (His autism is most likely linked to a few genetic abnormalities he has that have been also found in other autistic children.)

The bickering over how the blind man regained his sight reminds me of the group of people who seem to think they can “cure” autism with the GAPS diet, ABA therapy, or any number of quack cures. ABA therapy has been helpful for Daniel to a point, but his autism will never “go away”. Just as the Pharisees were skeptical about how the blindman was cured, I doubt anyone could objectively say what a cure for autism would be because the symptoms differ from person to person. It also begs the question of whether we should try to cure a condition that affects someone’s brain the way autism does.

The Pharisees treated the blind man as if he was a mere inconvenience. I experienced one of Jon’s parishes treating Daniel similarly. They wanted me to either exile him to the nursery with a baby monitor or keep him completely silent. It got to the point where I stopped taking Daniel to church because I was sick of people glaring at me. I am glad that St. Paul’s has been different on the occasions when I have brought him, but I was never able to get Daniel used to church. Because of my experiences, I am even more committed to making sure everyone feels welcome at St. Paul’s regardless of ability.

Lord, you chose to heal the blind man, and the Pharisees chose to dispute his healing. Help us to treat people with respect regardless of ability and give us hearts of welcome for everyone who comes through our doors. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

Read: John 9:1-41

The man answered, “Why, this is a marvel! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes… If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.

The Fourth Gospel is making a point here to challenge prevailing concepts of disability. It seems the religious leaders in this story understood the fact that the man was born blind as a sign of God’s punishment upon him for moral failings. If there is any character in this story with a disability, however, it seems to be the religious leaders passing this judgment. Their disability is their lack of compassion, which in turn seems to me to show their own need for healing in their relationship with God.

The irony of this story is that it is the religious leaders who cannot see. The man born blind can see just fine. He can see God at work right in the moment and see God’s messenger.

We support people around us with disabilities by letting them tell us what they need and then responding appropriately. We encourage their gifts for ministry in the church. We hold in check our own assumptions about how they view their own situation.

I knew a woman in a congregation I pastored who was born blind. She told me she didn’t have any desire to change her situation because she’d developed so many other ways of “seeing” as a result. She sang in the choir and read Scripture beautifully. She was whole. Joyful. She had obviously done a lot of spiritual work.

Her story is her story. Others will have another story, another struggle, another process with illness, disease, or disability. The important thing is to listen and support and affirm the love of God in which we stand and do what we can for each other.

Holy One, I thank you for those among us who teach me so much about how wholeness looks, even when they live with a disability. Lead me always to listen and learn and discern what I can do. Amen.
-Fr. Jonathan Weldon

Read: John 9:1-41

Years ago, a priest at Christ Church, Anacortes, related a true story that he had heard from a chaplain. I don’t remember it in detail, but the gist of it was this. A man was admitted to a hospital with terminal cancer. He was a white racist. One of the attending nurses was a Christian man, who happened to be Black. Over time they began to talk and share stories. Eventually, the racist’s beliefs changed. As the end of life neared, the chaplain returned and saw the man smiling. In response to the chaplain’s surprise, the man said, “I’m cured! Oh, the cancer will kill me, but I’m cured!” Sometimes our worst illness is not what we think it is, but healing happens, nonetheless.

The healing of the blind man didn’t bring rejoicing in the town. Too bad it happened on Sabbath. The Pharisees might have cut Jesus some slack if it happened on a weekday. Did they forget who created Sabbath and why? Jesus said Sabbath was made for man, so he raised this man from a street beggar to a man with a full life, by giving him sight. The man could have lived out his days as a blind beggar sitting by the road. But the one who sent Jesus chose to dramatize his redemptive power. God could and would call his people out of darkness into light.

The Pharisees refuse to accept that Jesus is godly and question his authority. The man, simple and uneducated, knows better. He doesn’t ask why or how, but he knows what he knows; he was blind and now he sees. His resolve is unshaken even when the Pharisees eject him from the Temple. With his new sight, he can freely and independently go anywhere he chooses. He chooses to follow Jesus. His conversion is complete. The Pharisees, certain of their own righteousness, remain in the dark.

Gracious God, open my eyes to see your presence in the world. Turn my heart to follow Jesus wherever he goes, not blindly but with both eyes open, trusting him to lead me to you. Amen.
-Carol Treston

Read: John 9:1-41

In contemplating this passage, I’m reflexively drawn to the response of the Pharisees to the miracle that Jesus has performed. The most obvious takeaway is that while the humble blind man suffered from a physical impairment, the elite are spiritually blind. And in their case, unlike the blind man, the affliction is willful. The truth of what Jesus has done, and the power to which that act speaks, is in front of their faces, and the blind man who they interrogate has a pretty snarky response to their dismissal of it as 1st Century “fake news,” along with their skepticism regarding Jesus’ origin.

“Why, this is a marvel! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does His will, God listens to him. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

On the subject of healing and disability, there is another notable takeaway from this passage: Jesus’ proclamation that rather than taking a “blame the victim” attitude toward any who suffer a “disability,” we should instead recognize, as he does, “that the works of God might be manifest in him.” Otherwise, we risk the blindness of the Pharisees.

Lord, take away my blindness in failing to recognize you in my brothers and sisters, in whatever place or condition I might find them, and let me cleanse myself of my sins towards them. Amen.
-Michael Boss

Read: John 9:1-41

Often in situations of severe illness, faith feels far from us. At those times, we need a friend who puts a hand on our shoulder and says “That’s okay. Right now we’ll believe for you.” Hope and love come together to buttress us when faith feels far from us. Love from others empowers and gives us strength. We can dare to hope, and that hope fills deep in our souls so that we know, somehow, some way, “all things work together for good.” And, meanwhile, our fellow Christians will stand with us. Be that hand on the shoulder.
-Barb Cheyney

Read: John 4:5-42

“… how can you (Jesus) ask me for a drink?”

Our focus this year is on community.

I don’t like arrogant people. I don’t like people whose noses are stuck so high in the air they risk drowning when it rains. I don’t like people who think they’re better than others because of the color of their skin, the size of their bank accounts (cars, or homes), or the purity of their pedigrees.

I don’t like arrogant people, but I can’t throw stones for I are one [sic], too. We humans can’t help it. Our survival depended, historically (and prehistorically, too) on deciding who was in and who was out, who got to share in the tribe’s provisions and who didn’t. Many of our likes, dislikes, and decisions arise from deep beneath the surface of our lives. They are so ingrained in us that we are often unaware of them. Jesus knows. Jesus gets us. He could condemn us for our bigotry; he could join us in our fear-and-loathing of one another. But instead, he enters into dialogue with those who gather at the well.

The woman’s shame is revealed by the light of the midday sun, when the righteous have come and gone, and only now is it safe for sinners to show themselves. “I’m thirsty,” says Jesus. “I’m not afraid of catching cooties from you, no matter who you are.” Shame walls the woman off from Jesus, but Jesus dismantles the wall, ever the consummate carpenter. He knows a thing or two about walls. Perhaps he knows a thing or two about shame because he was, himself (possibly) an object of shame in his own family, his own community. Shame is toxic. What Jesus seeks, what he wants, is water. “Blessed are those who hunger … who thirst … they shall be satisfied.”

Shame taints. I’m pleased as punch to be part of a community that seeks to understand, that seeks to serve, that seeks to be a bucket of water in a dry and barren land.

Let us pray. Lord, help me to draw water for those who thirst, as if for you, yourself. Do not let me build a wall around this well, but bring a rope and bucket that others may drink from One who so freely shares this water of life with us and them, sinners though we are. Amen.
–Fr. Keith Axberg