Now I knew that other people had something I didn't have, some ability to perceive the world differently, because they told me details about things that I couldn't feel or smell or hear. People told me I was blind, that I couldn't see, only I didn't fully understand what that meant. Not then, anyway. I had never known what it was like to have vision until I met the Master that day.

As I said, I was sitting there, minding my own business, hoping that the crowds would be generous with the coppers that day (if you know what I mean). And as I was saying, this stranger asked his question -- "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Well, his teacher answered him, and I shall never forget it: "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said he, which was excellent for me to hear, because I always felt that my parents had done so much for me, and expected so much of me. Surely, my inability to see up to that point could not be considered their fault. And as for me, I never asked to be born blind. None of us ever asked to be born at all. How could I be judged for something I couldn't possibly have done?

But he wasn't finished. "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said the Master to the small crowd that had gathered, "he was born so that God's works might be revealed in him." I'll never forget how his voice sounded when he said those very words. All my life up to that day I had lived in a world in which I never truly felt welcome. We human beings seem to have an aversion to others who differ from ourselves or who differ from the familiar. We mistakenly call "normal" that which is really only "familiar."

I learned as a very young boy that, because I couldn't see, I wasn't considered normal. Every now and then a group of boys used to gather around me and one would hit me and another would cry out "Who hit you?" and they would all laugh because I couldn't guess right. I felt so stupid. And that feeling would create a pit deep in my stomach. When you live your life with the awareness that you are not like every one else, try as hard as you might, you always feel unaccepted, you always feel stupid inside. I know that I did for most of my life.

That is, until I heard the words, "This man was born so that God's works might be revealed in him." Those were his exact words. I may not have been able to see like everyone else but I could hear better than anyone else. I could hear things from far off, or sounds so faint, that no one else could hear them. So I know what the Master said. He was talking about me, and it was the kindest thing I had ever heard anyone ever say about me.

At first I couldn't believe these words, after all I was just sitting there, minding my own business, hoping for the generosity and charity of a stranger. It all happened so fast, but the next thing I knew I sensed this crowd had gathered around me. I heard someone spit on the ground -- only later I found out it was the Master. He made a little bit of mud out of the dirt and spittle and he gently spread it on my eyelids. Then he said to me, "Go wash in the pool of Siloam." Now I could find the pool of Siloam easily because I went there everyday, no problem. So I went, I washed my face in the water, the mud -- it came off easily, and everything in my life changed.

At first I thought I was dying, I didn't know what I was experiencing. A strange sensation came over me that I didn't have a word for -- light. I began to experience light for the first time. The Master had brought light into my world. And then I saw things for the very first time: the water, my hands, the pool of Siloam, and people. I saw people for the first time -- my friends, the people of the neighborhood, my parents -- I could see my mother's face and my father's face, for the first time in my life! And their eyes -- I would look into people's eyes for the longest time.

At first I didn't believe it -- how could I believe it? I had nothing to compare it to, but there I was seeing things. Other people couldn't believe it -- people I had known for years acted like they didn't know me. Some thought it was only someone who looked like me; others, my closest friends, Tobias, Jeshua, Eli, and Moshe, they knew it was me. But others didn't believe that it could be me; they even started to treat me differently. Who had ever heard of a man that was born blind regaining his sight? Were it not for the Master, I wouldn't have regained my sight.

The Master! When it occurred to me that I must thank him for what he had done for me, he was nowhere to be found. I ran frantically around the temple grounds, trying to locate him, but I couldn't find him. Then the authorities wanted to speak with me about this miracle of miracles, and about the Master who had performed it on the Sabbath. You should have heard the ridiculous conversation we had. When they asked me what I thought about him, I said "He is a prophet," and for that they threw me out! How ridiculous is that? I mean, it doesn't take a house builder to figure out that anyone who gives sight to a blind man surely must have come from God!

And so there I was, now sitting outside the Temple, minding my own business. I sat there in tears, taking in this beautiful new world that a stranger from God had given me as an undeserved, unexpected gift, and a man walked up to me. He seemed to know me. He squatted down and looked at me -- he had the most beautiful and gentle eyes I have ever seen. Even before he said a word, I knew it was him -- it was the Master. We talked only for a moment. As he stood up to leave, I took him by the hand, and pressed my forehead to it in thanksgiving. I didn't know what else to do or say. When I let go of his hand, as he turned to leave, our eyes met one last time and he smiled at me. I never saw him again after that. And I shall never forget those eyes of his -- they shone as if they had a light of their own.

I then remembered something he had said earlier on that marvelous, unforgettable day. As he was putting the mud on my eyes, he was talking to his followers who had crowded around me. I don't remember all that he said -- I was a little scared. After all, I had been sitting there, minding my own business; to then have someone grab me by the arms and hold my head still while a stranger puts mud on my eyes -- it's a bit terrifying! But when the Master had finished smearing the mud, they let go of me, and everything got quiet. Then he simply said, "As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." I guess in my case, he wasn't kidding. He certainly brought light into my world.

Remember when I told you how Master had said that I was born so that God's works might be revealed in me? Looking back on it now, I believe that he meant this for all of us. I think we all have been brought into this world so that God's mighty works might be revealed in us. What a wonderful blessing this is, if we only believe it, if we only take hold of it.

As you might imagine, I have thought about this a lot over the years since it happened. And I have heard much about the Master, the man they called Jesus of Nazareth. I have heard from some of his followers that he cured many others of their diseases, including blindness. But I have salso heard that what grieved him most were the diseases and blindness that he often could not cure. I know first hand that mere physical blindness and physical illness stood no chance in the Master's presence, but the diseases of the human heart -- selfishness, pride, greed and the like -- and the mental blindness to God's spirit, imagination, and creative vision -- against these forces of freewill he could often do nothing.

It is a mystery to me that people who can physically see sometimes choose to be blind; that people blessed with physical health choose to harden their hearts with the diseases of fear, hate, and bitterness. It is a mystery to me that in this world of light and life that the Master came to show us, people choose to not see their neighbor, to not look into the eyes of the Other. "Which is worse," I ask myself, "not being able to see, or choosing not to see?"

Let me tell you something: When I look into the face of another, especially the face of someone from outside of my familiar world, sometimes I see the Master. It's there that I see his eyes again. For a brief, fleeting moment I get a glimpse of his face in the face of the stranger, in the face of my neighbor. I see the Master's light in their face, I feel his presence in their presence, and I realize that he is still in the world, just as he said he would be -- the Lord of Life and Light, right there in another human face. It is a wonderful and sacred mystery to see his face in the Other.

Which is why it saddens me to realize that in the midst of this journey called "life," with the opportunity to see Jesus of Nazareth face to face, people still choose to turn away and sit down, and only mind their own business.

The Rev'd Timothy M. Dombek
ST. JAMES EPISCOPAL CHURCH
301 Piney Mountain Road
Greenville, SC 29609-3035
(864) 244-6358
stjamesrector@mindspring.com

Copyright © 2002 Timothy M. Dombek All Rights Reserved.