misdirection is having people look so closely they don’t see what’s going on

John 9.1-7. He made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes.

One small panel of blue glass remains in this stained-glass window frame.

A small chapel in ruins at the municipal cemetery in Oradea, Romania.

John 9.1-7

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

The healing of the blind man with mud put on his eyes is a story of contrasts, ironies and reversals.

• A man born blind becomes the lesson for those who can see, yet are blind.

• The One who healed the blind man could heal their blindness too, but they refuse to admit they cannot see.

• The blind man schools the Pharisees on the things of God, and, unable to answer, they drive him out. The man's simple questions should have awakened them to a flaw in their thinking, but they could admit that and sent him away instead. They should have come to the light but they could not be exposed: darkness was their protection.

• From Raymond Brown (The Gospel According to John, 376-77): Three times the former blind man, who is truly gaining knowledge, humbly confesses his ignorance (12, 25, 36). Three times the Pharisees, who are really plunging deeper into abysmal ignorance of Jesus, make confident statements about what they know of him (16, 24, 29).

I toyed with titles for this article. The first was "Clear as mud". Another was "Do not let them know what your left hand is doing". Both of them hinted at my explanation, but I ultimately settled on a title that said it more clearly. The point is that there is one more instance of not seeing: the mud.

There are other times in Scripture where Jesus did seemingly meaningless things. One was when the woman caught in adultery was brought to him and he knelt down to scratch something into the dust. That is in John 7.53-8.11. Sorry, but there is no good support for this as being an original part of John's gospel, so it doesn't count.

Another is Mark 8 where Jesus used spittle in the healing of a blind man, this time without mud. It is unusual that Jesus healed that man in stages. We can speculate that the first healing was his eyes and the second his brain's inability to translate the signals into images (sight occurs in the brain, not the eye (touch, pain, smell, hearing, and taste also occur in the brain)), but that's speculation and it is not so important that we know.

What is important is that Jesus led him out of the village and told him to not go back after he was healed. That is the important similarity between the two healings. Along with that is the timing: both healings were chronologically distant from Jesus' final week.

First: a story from the work.

When we first went to the village it was to take home children we were caring for in the hospital. The hospital had a few ambulances that they used to take children home, but often they asked us because it was a poor use of their ambulances. We happily agreed because it gave us the chance to meet the families and see what we could do to help.

Early on, we selected families with the most children and the worst circumstances. We wanted to help, because most the children at the hospital were sick because of being exposed to cold, wet, unsanitary conditions at home. Plus some neglect and bad parenting situations. We did not have unlimited money so we selected families that we felt could be helped the most.

We discovered that helping with clothes, shoes, firewood, and food did not help. The clothes and shoes were piled in a corner and the children went naked anyway. The firewood was quickly used; the food was often mostly eaten by the parents and older kids.

And we were getting complaints. Neighbors complained that we drove past them to got to this other family. One time we put a roof on a house and the neighbors put up a fence so we had to use a steep, poorly maintained road at the edge of the village to get in materials.

It wasn't working. Helping families at home was not helping the smaller children as much as we wanted, it was creating hostility from the neighbors, and even the village church got into it, complaining that we were helping drunks and prostitutes (the insinuation being, they deserved to suffer).

We solved that by asking to use the village church. It worked. All of our money went to providing direct care for the children, because we made their food and put the clothes and shoes on them. And it relieved congestion in the house (sometimes a dozen people in one room), which meant the children had an easier day, and it stopped the criticism of unfairness because any family could send their children to the church. It was a wildly successful thing. In a short time we went from 10 children to a hundred. We were happy, the children were happy, the hostilities went way down... it was good.

But, we made a firm rule that we would not help people who came to the church to ask for money or help, and no adults were allowed inside. We had to do that because it cost a lot to take in so many children, six days a week, and because we knew that helping the adults would not turn out well. We discovered we could not sustain our "firm" rule. Seeing a young woman bring her two children in the morning with her face down to hide her black eye was not something we could disregard. Learning that a husband had taken the children to another village to pressure his wife into prostitution was not something we could disregard. A family of eight living under a tent made from a blanket because the grandparents had turned them out of the house was not something we could disregard.

Being in the village meant we saw constantly the hardships and abuses and violence. And so, against our own "firm" rules and better judgment, we began giving secret money to some families, with strict instructions to tell no one because we could not work with the children with a line of adults standing at the door, insisting we come out and talk with them.

The secret money stayed secret for about 20 minutes. As soon as some family had money to buy food they knew where it came from. We could not abandon our work in the village but we could not spend our days fixing problems, so we steadfastly refused. The result was yelling, cursing, rocks and clods of dirt thrown at us, false police reports, spitting... people had a strong sense of fairness: because we didn't treat everyone equally we were treated badly.

Years later, when the church expelled us, I began using the money we had for the children's church to help families. We knew the families well and could visit them to see how things were going. Once in a while I'd slip some money into the sweater pocket of a mother or grandmother with a solemn meeting of the eyes: Please! Don't! Tell! Anyone!

They told.

Now, twelve years on, I cannot go to the village. I can meet people outside the village or make unannounced visits to the school, but going into the village leaves me with clean pockets. When I see them I have to help. But it is expensive. We have workers in the hospitals and the schools. I cannot give a hundred dollars a day to these dear people and still pay salaries. So I don't go very often. Because it is impossible to see them and say no.

(For those who react to this: I don't have the money to say yes to everyone. The choice is to go and say no, or not go. The same people are helped regardless: which is almost none of them, because I can't afford it. If they go and I clean my pockets, then I have to start buying others things with my credit card, and using that "invisible money" causes other problems.)

The significant point in this is that almost none of them care about me. Many of them like me, but none of them consider the weight it places on me to not be allowed to enjoy them without the constant clamor. Once we took a group of children to a festival in a nearby village. The children like the bumper cars more than anything. We had maybe eight children and were having fun. Then some other children from the village happened upon us. I could not tell them to go away so we gave them rides on the bumper cars too. Something happened: I don't know if one of them sent a messenger or it was just by chance, but within a few minutes we had 30 children, all wanting rides. And drinks. And pizza. We couldn't send them away, so we left.

I enjoy the children. I want to spend time with them. But buying rides and drinks and pizza for 40 children was impossible. I didn't bring enough money to do that. Even if we stayed, there were 150 more back in the village who were most certainly already on their way. Staying at the festival would have upset the children to be told no, and we could no longer enjoy our time with the eight we came with, so we left.

If we take teens for pizza to enjoy some time together, they do not consider that we want to be with them. If we take children for school shoes, they do not consider that we want to be with them. If I go to someone's house in the village to see the family and spend time with them, they do not consider that it is a relation for me. There is always the weight. It's not fair to buy pizza for just six. It's not fair to buy shoes for just those 15. If I go to someone's house I must look at their ceiling and windows and heating stove. Why would I be there if it wasn't to buy them something.

After being in the village for a while I resolved to never ask God for anything again. How weary it must be for God when I treated him like these people treat me. How depersonalizing it is to regard him as the one who is expected to fix our problems. How hurtful it must be for his children regard him as their sugar daddy instead of their heavenly Father. God is a person. He would like to enjoy us. For just one month, make a pact with yourself to not ask God for anything. Find out whether you have anything to say to him if it doesn't involve asking for something you want.

Is it possible for God to be in our lives without weight? Can we not allow him to relax when he's with us?

The time when Jesus visited Mary and Martha and he defended Mary for being with him instead of doing things for him: what if we add a third person into the picture: "Oh hi! I'm so glad you're here! I'm looking for a job. Do you think you could help me with that?" The next visit: "I'm having a wisdom tooth extraction next week. Could you please come along?" The next visit: "Jimmy is starting to look for colleges. Can you help him?"

How many times do you think you'd go back? Does any of that sound like something you'd enjoy? How rude it is to ask for something every time we talk to God.

I was starting to explain this to a woman. She is maybe 60. Before I got past the first sentence she asked, startled, "But why pray if it's not to ask for something?!"

No one, and I mean no one, treats someone they care about like this.

Back to John 9, and Mark 8, and all the other times Jesus did something and then told the person: Say nothing about this to anyone! He had two reasons: First is that he needed to be able to go into public without being overwhelmed with requests that made it impossible to work, and second because he had to keep certain things hidden until it was time to make them known. He knew he was going to be crucified, but it had to be according to his schedule. He could not go into the Temple area and announce he was their Messiah and call out the leaders to tell them that they were blind guides and whitewashed tombs. He could not announce himself as the I Am until it was the time to suffer the consequences. He could not raise anyone from the dead until it was time to inflame everyone in his last week, but he could not pass by everyone either, so he raised some in secret or from a distance.

Look at the feeding of the 5000 (6.1-15). Verse 2 says a large crowd kept following him. Verse 5 says he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him. This was not good news! He truly wanted to help them, but he also had to make sure every day accomplished what was needed. It was wearying: their constant demands put a heavy weight on him. He fed them because he pitied them, but acts of kindness always led to trouble. Jesus realized they were about to make him king, so he (again) withdrew to the mountain by himself. Nothing could happen that was not part of the plan, and nothing that was part of the plan could happen until it was supposed to, but he could not say no so he found ways to lighten the load of their incessant demands.

(Notice that later, when they found him, he replies in annoyance: "You are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves." He wanted to feed them, but he was not at all happy that they hunted for him, to be fed again.)

It is not until his last week that he publicly confronts the Jewish leaders and embarrasses them in front of the people. It is not until the last week that he raises Lazarus from the dead, knowing that people will immediately report what he had done. Jesus tells his brothers that he will not agree to their scheme to expose himself to arrest because his time had not come yet. When it was his time, yes, he would do it himself, but he was not going to do any silly thing his brothers dared him to, just to prove something.

Jesus' life was a meticulously orchestrated symphony where every note had to be played at exactly the right time, by the right instrument, at the right pitch and volume, and for the right tempo and interval and duration. All the genius of Mozart, Chopin, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Liszt, Verdi, Handel, Hayden, Vivaldi, Stravinsky, Debussy, Rachmaninoff, and Dvořák, put together, are nothing compared to what it took to get Jesus onto that cross.

When Jesus took the blind man outside the village (Mark 8), healed him, and instructed him to not go back into the village, it was so Jesus could get away. Jesus is the Good good Samaritan. He cannot walk past a blind man without healing him, but he cannot stir up a riot either, so he helps the person while still making it possible to climb onto that cross at the exact hour he is supposed to.

Now here is another blind man. Jesus wants to heal him, but he can't. In Mark 10 he was able to heal because he was in Jericho: immediately before his entry into Jerusalem. In his last week it was okay to crank up the heat.

But John 9 was too early. He could not heal the blind man and also escape the crowd, plus it was the Sabbath (the worst day to do anything good). So he healed while no one was watching. He made mud and put it on the man's eyes. The man was healed but Jesus could not allow him to see yet, so he kept the man "blind" long enough for Jesus to get some distance between himself and the crowd. The man found his way to the pool, washed off the mud, and was then able to see: because the mud was no longer covering his eyes. Of course his first impulse was to go back to where all this had happened, but Jesus was not there. Plus, the man had never seen Jesus so it was impossible to search for him.

The furor that unfolded was only a small taste of what would have happened if Jesus had healed the man in public. The Pharisees called for the man: they were incensed that a man had been healed! They called his parents, then him a second time. He rightly said he had no idea how it had happened. And he rightly said he had no way of knowing who did it, because he had never seen Jesus.

Later, after the volcano had spent its fury and was back at its grumpy rest, Jesus went to find the man because there was still one more thing the Good good Samaritan needed to do. He wanted this man to be with him in his Father's house. Forever. So Jesus went to tell him that the One who gives sight is the Son of Man: your Lord.

Thus the other blindness in the story is the misdirection Jesus used to disguise the miracle by putting mud on the man's eyes, to keep him sightless long enough for Jesus to leave. The people had no idea the man was healed. The man had no idea he was healed!

No one saw anything, because of the mud, and Jesus got away without the crowds wanting to make him king and without the Pharisees wanting to make him dead. A perfect day.

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Some final notes:

• For those who say it requires faith to be healed, this story upsets that. The man did not believe until Jesus went to find him. The Good Samaritan does not ask the person laying on the road if he believes.

  • Naaman was told to wash but refused, and so he was denied healing until he obeyed (2 Kings 5). He was insulted: he thought he deserved to be healed in a spectacular way. He was left with his leprosy until he did what his King told him, which resulted in the healing of both his leprosy and his attitude. Naaman is an interesting amalgamation of the blind man and the Pharisees. God will heal, but he will not be told that he must. In John 9, the Pharisees are presented with incontrovertible proof that God wants to heal, but they are the leaders and things must be done a certain way. Like Namaan, they were angry that God didn't do things the way they wanted. Unlike Namaan, they did not listen to the voice pointing them to obvious truth.

• John 9:39-41 has the Pharisees overhearing Jesus' statement, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” That statement immediately follows the man worshiping Jesus. I think we should put a paragraph break after v 38 to allow some time between v38 and v 39. If the Pharisees saw the man worshiping Jesus they would have been much more incensed at that than what they heard in v 39. But possibly the statement, "he worshiped him" does not insinuate a posture of worship.

• Jesus corrects the Pharisee's understanding of God and where they stand with God. Blindness is not God's judgment; sight is.

• The disciples superstitiously believed that calamity was God’s judgment and prosperity was God's blessing. Nothing is right-side-up in God's world though. The poor and the outcast provoke God's pity and the haughty provoke his indignation. God does not act immediately or individually in every case, but a blatant violation provides occasion for him to remind us where true north is. God pities the pitiful. Those who claim to be the people of God must consider how God acts. To not care about people he especially cares for will surely get his attention.

• The incident of the blind man taught those standing there that things were not as they seemed. It sent a sharp, forever-memorable (like the widow's mite) notice that, even if they don't see, God does. Israel had forty years to think things over and start acting rightly. Driving through every stop sign will turn out badly.