Here's Mud in Your Eye

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Psalm 23, John 9: 1-6

4 Lent 2020

“As Jesus 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.” 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.” (John 9: 1-6)

We all have blind spots. Waiting impatiently in loneliness, seeing only death and disease, we cannot see the beauty of the world all around us. We walk by others, offering no eye contact let alone a handshake. We are blind to possibilities; our minds, like our doors, are closed in fear. And when we hear the escalating news about the coronavirus or the deescalating news about our economy, that death rates are climbing, businesses have been shuttered, borders are closed, and people are being quarantined, we feel blindsided. Like the blind man in John’s gospel, we have mud in our eyes.

            I love the movie “The Blind Side” which chronicles the true life story of “Michael Oher, a homeless black teen, who drifted in and out of the school system for years. At least until Leigh Anne Tuohy and her husband, Sean, take him in. Michael's tremendous size and protective instincts make him a formidable force on the gridiron, and with help from his new family and devoted tutor, he realizes his potential as a student and football player.” (Wikipedia)

            The movie takes its name from a football reality called “the blind side.” When a quarterback turns his body in one direction in order to complete a pass, he leaves his body vulnerable to an attack from the blind side. He cannot see what is coming at him, and therefore, he is unable to protect himself from injury. The risk of fumbles increases, and the reality of chaos and human pile-ons ensues. Being blind and being blindsided pose their risks.

            “Margaret of Castello was born sometime in 1287, blind with a severe curvature of the spine that inhibited her walking. Her parents resolved to hide her away, so that her appearance could not bring shame to the family honor. Her mother and her husband took Margaret to a Franciscan friar who was performing miracle cures in Castello in hopes of a “cure.” But after two attempts, no cure was forthcoming. Frustrated and embarrassed, the parents abandoned their daughter in Castello and went home.”

“Margaret resolutely refused to die. The local beggars in town took pity on her and taught her how to beg so she could feed herself. She began teaching the street children how to read and taught them different prayers. She also watched children while their parents worked, essentially running a medieval daycare.” (Megan Castellan, Lent Madness)

In those days, and in the days of Jesus, not to mention today, people are rejected and abandoned, live in extreme poverty, suffer repeated abuse and indignities, and are often left to die. At times like these, we fumble the ball. We scramble for this or that in the chaos; and we desperately look for a quarterback or savior who will throw that “Hail Mary” pass for the win. Forgetting the reality of our term limits, we seek people and powers to save us, and forget the power that lies within us and all around us and ultimately in God. We forget to dig deep like Margaret of Costello; we forget to help others like the Tuohys.

 At times, we are all blind to our vulnerability and fragility, not to mention our privileges and blessings, at least until a pandemic reminds us otherwise. Indeed, we are all disabled in one way or another. Bottom line? We all need God’s grace.  Blinded by the mud in our eyes, we despair as people without hope; and Christianity is, above all, a way of seeing. It is the transformation of our vision so that when we are blinded by sin, or blindsided by life’s events, we can use the eyes of our hearts to see. Listening with the ears of our faith, we can hear the voice of Jesus, telling us to go and wash the mud from our eyes, so that others might see the glory of God at work in our world. We can be Sent.

The expression “Here’s mud in your eye!” actually has a positive meaning. It means “Cheers! Bottoms up!” Even at a social distance, we can hold fast to the promise of eternal life revealed to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Victory is ours. Death, where is your sting? Raising our glasses of celebration, we can also invite others to drink deeply of God’s Spirit. Bottoms up!

So “Here’s mud in your eye!” I say. After you have washed your hands for 20 seconds, open your eyes to see the power of God at work in the world all around us, even now, even in you. Virtual or real, God’s grace is there. For, as the psalmist once proclaimed, “The Lord is our shepherd; we shall not be in want. God revives our souls and guides us along the right pathways for God’s Name's sake. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we shall fear no evil; for you are with us; your rod and your staff, they comfort us. Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives, and we will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” (Psalm 23) Cheers!

Temptations

St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church, Sudbury, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

1 Lent, March 1, 2020

I am delighted to be with you again in Sudbury, thanks to the invitation of your interim rector, Stephanie. You are nearing the end of your transition from one rector to the next; and to be honest, perhaps like some of you, I love times of transition. Truth be told, our lives are always in transition; in fact transition in the church has become what many call “the new normal.” And, right on cue, here we are today, transitioning into the season of Lent.

In times of transition, we are all vulnerable. We cannot see what lies ahead, nor even what’s lying at our feet. Doubts will seep into our brains like fog; and then, disoriented, we may steer ourselves in wrong directions, or find ourselves wandering aimlessly in circles of confusion. We may listen to the wrong voices, even in our own heads, and then make bad decisions. Unruly passions become like the coronavirus, crossing our borders and infecting our bodies. We forget about God.

Transitions are invariably known as times of temptation. And our scripture lessons provide the stories. It all began with an apple in the garden. You know how it was, in the beginning, when God created Adam and Eve, who were supposed to live happily ever after with God. Our Creator didn’t want Adam and Eve to die, and so God commanded them, “Don’t touch the fruit on that tree!”

Temptation entered their lives in the form of a serpent. The snake said to them, “Don’t you also want to be just like God? To know what is good and what is evil?” The questions seemed reasonable enough and Eve thought wisdom was a good thing, and so she succumbed. Not only did she touch the fruit but she ate it and shared it with her husband. She forgot that God had their best interests in mind.

Now, this serpent was very crafty, just like our temptations. They sneak up behind us and whisper in our ears, “Doesn’t that new person, policy, or program look really good? Surely they are a delight, and much better than the ones we have now, or the ones that came before. Come on, let’s get out of this place,” the snake implores us. “The grass is far greener out there!” Or conversely, it invites complacency. “Let’s just keep things the way they are. Change is always overrated! No sense fixing what isn’t broken. Don’t you think this garden is lovely, just the way it is?”

Slithering silently across the grass, the snake speaks to us in shades of truth. “Be wise as a serpent, like me,” it says. “This new policy, person, and program will save you.” The snake, who is lying right at my feet (double entendre intended) raises my doubts about what I cannot see, which is God. The serpent even throws shade on our Creator. “God doesn’t really want to share God’s power,” the snake adds. “And don’t you want some of that wisdom so you can protect yourself? After all, God may be omnipotent and omniscient, all-powerful and all-knowing, but we are not. And evil comes in many forms. Surely, you know that it has many disguises. Just look around you.”

The consequences of Adam and Eve’s disobedience soon followed, as well as their finger-pointing. Whose fault was it, anyway? Was the serpent being purposefully evil or was it speaking the truth? Perhaps Eve wasn’t guilty. Maybe she wasn't there when God spoke to Adam. And how about Adam? He had heard what God commanded. Was he just looking to reap some benefits and not take any of the blame?  Dare I say that God was the tempter? If God wanted Adam and Eve to live forever, then why would God plant that tree right there in front of them? Why would God create those golden delicious apples, which clearly are meant to be eaten?

Dark thoughts cloud my thinking. I begin to believe that people are rotten to the core, and not to be trusted, rather than created in the image of God. I forget that everything that God creates is good, even the snake, maybe even the devil. Bitter and cynical, I find myself becoming angry and wondering if our world is going to hell in a handbasket. Listening to the serpent, I take a bite out of the apple and then I make my own demands of God. “A new creation is needed,” I tell God. “You created us. You fix us.”

Soon enough, the fog lifts, and reality emerges. Like Adam and Eve, my eyes are suddenly opened; and I see very clearly how vulnerable I am. Accidents happen. Viruses kill. Hearts break. I’ve listened to the wrong people; and I’ve made some foolish mistakes. Realizing the error of my ways, I feel ashamed, and because I don’t want anyone to know how foolish I have been, I try to hide. Despite all the promises of this material world, despite my hand-washing and hand-wringing, I know that eventually I will die. In 12 step language, we call this hitting bottom. Liturgically, we call it Ash Wednesday.

Our salvation story from Genesis to Revelation reminds us that our temptations didn’t disappear with Adam and Eve. Not even the Son of God could avoid them. Right from the jump in Matthew’s gospel, the Spirit of God descended upon Jesus, declaring that he was God’s beloved Son, and then led him into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. It was God who led Jesus from his happy place into a wilderness of vulnerability, transition, and temptation.

His story is similar but different from Adam and Eve’s. Fasting for 40 days and nights, Jesus was not well fed. Facing endless days and nights of sun and sand, he is not surrounded by shade trees and low-hanging fruit. No. Jesus is hungry and living in a desert; and this time the tempter is not a serpent. No, the tempter is a human being coming towards him, smiling, and making reasonable suggestions. 

            The devil is his close companion, whispering to him, and inviting him to flex his godly muscles. “Turn this stone into bread,” the devil says. “I know you’re hungry; it will strengthen you for the journey.” Then, the devil adds, “You know God doesn’t want you to die, so let God save you, even though you’ve behaved foolishly. Show everyone how special you are, and that you have super powers. In fact, you are entitled to those kingdoms and splendor and honor and glory. So give me your allegiance. Take a selfie with me as your friend; and together, we’ll rule the world. Besides, where is that God of yours anyway?”

Unlike the snake, who was crafty, this tempter is bold. The devil doesn’t offer shades of truth, or ask multiple questions, and raise persistent doubts. No, the devil tempts Jesus with clarity, offering black and white solutions. Dangling his divinity in front of him, the devil tells Jesus to deny his humanity. “Be you,” the devil tells him. “Don’t ever forget that you are the Son of God, with whom God is well pleased.” 

Our human temptation is to want to be God, or to be mini-gods. It’s a temptation that remains with us from the very beginning of our lives to their end. Indeed, we are all guilty of this original sin. Forgetting God as our Creator and Savior, Provider and Protector, we want total control. We seek powers and products that we think will defy death, and that we’re saved by our own good deeds or not at all. We forget to walk by faith. We forget that life is a precious gift and a holy mystery, and that God has our best interests at heart.

Our original sin is actually an original blessing. Maybe that was part of God’s creation plan after all; for we develop our characters and deepen our spiritual lives most especially when we are faced with temptations. When we are weak, we can look to God for strength. Indeed, as Martin Luther once wrote, “my temptations have been my masters in divinity.” Without fear, we can let the Spirit of God lead us into the wilderness, for it serves a purpose. As the psalmist wrote, “God becomes our hiding place, preserves us from trouble, instructs and teaches us in the ways we should go.” 

In a meditation by Kate Maynard, she talks about the witness of St. Francis from the middle ages. “According to tradition, whenever his habit needed repair, St. Francis sewed patches on the outside of his habit because he wanted people to see that life wasn’t about appearances or pretense. His faith was in God and he believed that trying to hide and cover up our flaws or weaknesses actually distance us from Christ and from others.” (Cathedral St. Paul, Burlington, Feb 4, 2020)

We begin our season of Lent by pointing the finger back at ourselves, and confessing our sins; for if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. Not ashamed of who we are, but guilty of our mistakes, we trust that God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:8, 9) We remember our salvation story, and how Jesus, though tempted as we are, did not sin. While the Spirit of God may lead us into the wilderness, it will also lead us out, and Jesus has shown us the Way.

Do not worry about your life, Jesus told his disciples; for God’s original blessing remains. God does not want us to die but to live, now and forever. In Christ we are a new creation; and a new garden awaits us all.

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

Psalm 32