The Blind Man Washes in the Pool of Siloam, James Tissot (1836-1902)Patrick Comerford
Next Sunday, 22 March 2020, is the Fourth Sunday in Lent and Mothering Sunday. This Sunday is also known as Laetare Sunday.
The readings in the Revised Common Lectionary, as adapted for use in the Church of Ireland, for the Fourth Sunday in Lent are:
The Readings: I Samuel 16: 1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5: 8-14; John 9: 1-41.
There is a link to the readings HERE
If Sunday is observed as Mothering Sunday, these readings may be used:
The Readings: Exodus 2: 1-10 or I Samuel 1: 20-28; Psalm 34: 11-20 or Psalm 127: 1-4; II Corinthians 1: 3-7 or Colossians 3: 12–17; Luke 2: 33-35 or John 19: 25-27.
There is a link to the Mothering Sunday readings HERE
The Fourth Sunday in Lent, Mothering Sunday, Laetare Sunday:
The Fourth Sunday in Lent is also known as Laetare Sunday because of the incipit of the traditional Introit: Laetare Jerusalem, ‘O be joyful, Jerusalem’ (Isaiah 66: 10, Masoretic text).
The full Introit reads:
Laetare Jerusalem: et conventum facite omnes qui diligitis eam: gaudete cum laetitia, qui in tristitia fuistis: ut exsultetis, et satiemini ab uberibus consolationis vestrae.
Psalm: Laetatus sum in his quae dicta sunt mihi: in domum Domini ibimus.
Rejoice, O Jerusalem: and come together all you that love her: rejoice with joy, you that have been in sorrow: that you may exult, and be filled from the breasts of your consolation.
Psalm: I rejoiced when they said to me: ‘we shall go into God’s House!’
This Sunday is also known as Refreshment Sunday, Mid-Lent Sunday (in French mi-carême), and Rose Sunday. On this Sunday, mediaeval Popes blessed a golden rose to send to sovereigns. In many parts of the Anglican Communion and the Roman Catholic Church, rose-coloured vestments are worn on this Sunday instead of the violet or purple colour of Lent.
The first part of these notes looks at the Lectionary readings for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, with ideas that may be used not only in sermons but also in discussion groups.
The second part of the these notes looks at the two alternative Gospel readings provided for Mothering Sunday, and offers some stories for sermon illustrations.
Introducing the Readings:
Mothering Sunday is a Sunday when we probably hear little about the main Gospel reading (John 9: 1-41) at the expense of a lot of repeat sermons on the benefits of motherhood or the stellar qualities of ‘Mother Church’ or of cathedrals as the ‘mother churches’ of dioceses.
But I wonder and worry at times how many women feel isolated and marginalised by some of those sermons on Mothering Sunday – women who have had miscarriages or seen their children suffer and die; women who would love to but have never given birth to children; people who have grown up in families where the mother figure was absent or ill, died early, or was abusive or violent?
In the first choice of Gospel reading, Christ meets a young man who has been blind since birth. The disciples ask Christ: ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ (verse 2) He answers them: ‘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’ (John 9: 3-5).
Many grieving and suffering mothers hearing this Gospel reading on Mothering Sunday may wonder why their children are suffering and how or where their sufferings and the sufferings of their children fit into God’s plans for the fullness of creation.
We must agree the blindness of this young man could not possibly be due to his sins or the sins of his ancestors. But how many of us blame other people for their plight, and how many of us still believe that those in poverty and deprivation simply need to ‘pull themselves up’?
I Samuel 16: 1-13:
King Saul is the ruler of Jebus, the area to the north and east of Jerusalem. David left his court to become a warlord to the south, in the Bethlehem area.
Saul has enjoyed God’s favour, but he has lost it by disobeying the Prophet Samuel. Samuel is now told to anoint a new king, a son of Jesse. But, because Samuel’s route to Bethlehem takes him through the territory ruled by Saul, he asks God how he is to make the journey safely. God tells him to say that he comes to sacrifice to the Lord, which is part of his purpose.
Jesse’s eldest son, Eliab, is tall and the first-born, and must have appeared the obvious choice for king. But God does not see people the way we see them. Nor are the next sons, Abinadab and Shammah, to be chosen. Although David’s complexion is ruddy, God does not see people as we see them, and he is God’s choice.
When Samuel anoints David, in the presence of his brothers, and the spirit of the Lord comes upon him. His brothers are witnesses. Samuel returns to “Ramah”, his seat of judgement. Saul is going to persecute David relentlessly, but when Saul dies in battle, David unifies the northern and the southern kingdoms and becomes king. God does not see people as we see them.
Psalm 23:
Psalm 23 is one of the best-known psalms, and is often known by its opening words in the King James Version, ‘The Lord is my Shepherd.’ In Latin, it is known by the incipit, Dominus reget me.
A metrical version of the psalm, traditionally sung to the hymn tune Crimond is attributed to Jessie Seymour Irvine (1836-1887), opens with the words ‘The Lord's My Shepherd,’ and is one of the best-known hymns among English-speakers.
The author of this psalm describes God as his shepherd, in the role of protector and provider. For Christians, the image of God as a shepherd evokes connections not only with David but with Christ as the Good Shepherd in Saint John’s Gospel (see John 10: 11, 14). The phrase about ‘the valley of the shadow of death’ is often understood as an allusion to eternal life.
The theme of God as a shepherd was common in ancient Israel and Mesopotamia. For example, King Hammurabi, in the conclusion to his famous legal code, wrote: ‘I am the shepherd who brings well-being and abundant prosperity; my rule is just … so that the strong might not oppress the weak, and that even the orphan and the widow might be treated with justice.’
Psalm 23 portrays God as a good shepherd, feeding and leading his flock. The ‘rod and staff’ are also used by shepherds. The shepherd is to know each of the sheep by name, leads them to green pastures and still waters so they may eat and drink.
In this psalm, we can also imagine King David acknowledging God’s protection throughout his life.
Ephesians 5: 8-14:
Saint Paul has already advised his readers to live ethical and moral lives that are fitting for people who have adopted the way of Christ, to ‘put away your former way of life’ (Ephesians 4: 22) and to be clothed with the new self (4: 24). They have been baptised, and the Holy Spirit dwells in them.
He reminds them that they once lived in darkness, but now they live in the light, as children of light (Ephesians 5: 8), which shows them all that is ‘good and true and light (verse 9). As Christians they should wake up to this new light. The writer then quotes from what may be an early baptismal hymn.
John 9: 1-41:
The seven ‘I AM’ sayings are one of the keys to understanding Saint John’s Gospel. The phrase Ἐγώ εἰμι (‘ego eimi’) is used with a nominative predicate in seven sayings in this Gospel:
● I am the Bread of Life (John 6: 35, 41, 48-51);
● I am the Light of the World (John 8: 12, 9: 5);
● I am the Door of the Sheepfold (John 10: 7, 9);
● I am the Good Shepherd (John 10: 11, 14);
● I am the Resurrection and the Life (John 11: 25);
● I am the Way, the Truth and the Life (John 14: 6);
● I am the True Vine (John 15: 1, 5).
In addition, there are Seven Signs. Some scholars, including Stephen Smalley, want to link the seven ‘I AM’ sayings to the seven signs, although it is not that simple. For example, he links the Water into Wine with ‘I am the true vine.’ However, different scholars associate different signs with different sayings.
In any case, the seven miracles in Saint John’s Gospel are referred to as ‘signs.’ These signs are given to confirm the deity of Jesus. The seven signs in Saint John’s Gospel are:
● John 2: 1-11, water into wine
● John 4: 46-51, healing with a word
● John 5: 1-9, a crippled man at Bethesda
● John 6: 1-14, the feeding of 5,000
● John 6: 16-21, walking on water
● John 9: 1-7, the man born blind
● John 11: 1-46, the Raising of Lazarus.
In addition, some scholars talk about Seven Themes in this Gospel: Life, Truth, Faith, Light, Spirit, Judgment and Love.
So, this reading includes one of the ‘I AM’ sayings, ‘I am the Light of the World’ (verse 5; see also John 8: 12), and tells us of the sixth of the seven signs, the healing of the man born blind. On the following Sunday [22 March 2020, the Fifth Sunday in Lent], we have the seventh sign, the Raising of Lazarus (John 11: 1-45).
The setting
The physical or geographical setting for this story is Jerusalem, near the pool of Siloam, a rock-cut pool on the southern slope of the City of David, outside the walls of the Old City, to the southeast. The Pool of Siloam is mentioned several times in the Bible – Isaiah 8: 6 mentions the pool’s waters; Isaiah 22: 9 ff refers to the construction of Hezekiah’s tunnel.
As a fresh water reservoir, the Pool of Siloam was a major gathering place at the time of Christ for people making religious pilgrimages to Jerusalem, and the water from the pool was used for purification rituals in the Temple during the Feast of Tabernacles or Succoth. So this is a very public setting for a ‘sign,’ with many witnesses present.
The other setting that is important to take account of is the mindset of the people of the time – and not just the Pharisees – who believed that severe physical disablement was a natural and just consequence for the sins of the past, even the sins of past generations. In some way, we could explain the inexplicable way God had allowed other people to suffer was because of their sins or the sins of their ancestors.
Siloam is an interesting place for Christ to challenge this ‘received wisdom.’ Recall the story in Saint Luke’s Gospel, where Christ couples the execution of Galilean insurgents with the tragedy surrounding the collapse of the Tower of Siloam (Luke 13: 1-5). Many may have expected him to say that their deaths were punishment for their rebellious or collaborative behaviour. Instead, he taught that death comes to everyone, regardless of how sinful they are, regardless of birth, politics or social background, and went on to teach how we each need to repent.
Here too he rejects this traditional belief (see verse 3), but the story reaches its climax when we are told that spiritual blindness is a greater affliction than physical blindness, and that seeing the way but not following it is worse than not seeing the way at all.
Christ tells us at the beginning of this reading to be prepared to link this man’s congenital blindness to the revelation of God’s works. And once again he speaks of himself as the light of the world (verse 5; cf John 8: 12).
The healing:
In healing this young man, Christ puts into action what he has already proclaimed in the synagogue in Nazareth as being the heart of the Gospel:
‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’ (Luke 4: 18-19)
We see Christ move beyond compassion for the young blind man in Jerusalem to actually healing him and restoring him to the place in society those around him would deny him. But he avoids falling into the trap others want to set for him, those who want him to pass judgment on those they see as being sinful and deserving of divine wrath.
How does the healing take place? And who initiates the healing?
Notice how the man does not ask for healing. It is Jesus who sees him; it is impossible for him to see Jesus, and so he does not ask Jesus for healing; nor does Jesus ask him what he wants. This is an act of pure compassion, not just for the man because of his physical disability, but stirred too by the social judgment that has been passed on him.
Nor does Jesus ask the man about his faith or his beliefs. He is not asked to say he believes in God, nor is he asked to say who Jesus is.
Christ spits on the ground, makes a potion or a poultice, spreads in on the man’s eye, and tells him to go and wash in the pool. The man obeys, goes to the pool, washes, and comes back able to see.
Who are the witnesses to healing? Christ is not there. Nor are the Pharisees, nor the disciples, not even the man’s family or neighbours. Despite the Pool of Siloam being a very busy place, no-one asks for any witnesses who have actually seen the man washing himself in the waters. This makes another connection between seeing and believing, not seeing and refusing to believe.
He has not been asked to return, but like the one Samaritan among the Ten Lepers, he does come back. But by the time the man got back, Jesus has gone.
Those who see that he can now see include many who refuse to believe their own eyes. And when he speaks out, they refuse to believe their own ears. Our prejudices can be so ingrained that even in the face of incontrovertible evidence we can refuse to believe what we see and hear – and this is true particularly when it comes to our received and inherited social, political and religious prejudices.
The consequences and the lessons
What are the consequences of the healing: the man moves from being blind to having sight, from being a beggar to being free, from being dependent to being independent, from being regarded as a sinner to knowing that he is free of the sins that others have laid on his shoulders. Yet he is reviled and driven cast out.
In his first condition, people thought he suffered as a consequence God’s judgment on him and his past. Now he truly suffers because of what God has done to him.
We might ask whether he might be better off if he had never been healed. At least then he might have continued to have an income as a beggar, a place (albeit a not very desirable place) in society, and he would not have come to complete rejection.
Three questionings
A quieter man might have slipped away quietly, found a new job, and settled down nicely. But instead, this man comes back, and faces the consequences.
There are three series of questionings and interrogations that reveal the consequences for this man’s faith and belief?
First of all, he is brought before the Pharisees and he says Christ is a prophet (verse 17). It is interesting to note that this is a confrontation between the healed man and the Pharisees about Christ, and not a confrontation between the Pharisees and Christ about the healed man.
No-one believes the man, and so his parents are called. They too are not believed (verses 18-23), so the man is called in for interrogation a second time.
On second questioning, Jesus and the blind man are linked together in the same fate as sinners, but he rebuffs the suggestion that Jesus is a sinner (verses 24-25). Then, in a deeply psychological way, he challenges them to think if they are not protesting too much: ‘Do you also want to become his disciples?’ (verses 25-27). Jungians would say he has pointed to the shadow side of their personalities.
Undeterred by the way he is being reviled, his own deep faith comes to life as he links true worship with obedience and discipleship, and confesses his faith that Christ is sent by God (verses 28-33).
Frustrated and angered by his resilience at this second questioning, his interrogators drive him out.
On reading this, the Johannine community would have immediately drawn comparisons with those who were driven out of the synagogues in Asia Minor for their faith in Christ, and this story would have had many resonances for the Johannine Church.
The man faces a third set of questions when Christ, on hearing what has happened, searches him out and finds him (verses 35-41). When Christ reveals himself as the Son of Man, the once blind man confesses a simple faith: ‘Lord, I believe.’ And he worshipped him.
It is similar to Thomas’s confession on seeing the wounds of the Risen Christ: ‘My Lord and My God!’ (John 20: 28).
Healing on the Sabbath
Christ prepares the healing poultice late in the afternoon, and the healing takes place on the Sabbath.
By preparing and applying the poultice on a Saturday, he violated four rules about the Sabbath:
● ploughing: he rolled mud and spittle on the ground;
● kneading: he mixed them together to make the potion;
● anointing: he put the poultice on the man’s eyes;
● healing: this was not a life-threatening condition, yet he healed the man.
But as one of the seven signs in Saint John’s Gospel, the healing of the Blind Man at Siloam has more significance than the miracle itself.
The miracle follows the ‘I AM’ saying, ‘I am the light of the world’ (verse 5), and so serves to validate it. He brings light and sight not only to those who visibly and physically need them, but he brings it to all, even to those who do not realise that they sit in darkness.
Some conclusions:
Seeing and believing, blindness and revelation, are important themes running through the Fourth Gospel.
Think how, at the end of the Gospel, Thomas refuses to believe in what he hears until he sees for himself.
Christ tells us at the beginning of this reading to be prepared to link this man’s congenital blindness to the revelation of God’s works.
Notice too how Jesus puts the poultice of saliva and mud on the man’s eyes on the Sabbath, when new life is about to begin and healing actually takes place. The blind man’s eyes are opened on the Sabbath itself (verse 13), before the new week, before a new life, before what is for him almost a Resurrection.
Compare this with the Johannine setting for the Crucifixion and Resurrection, and compare too the questioning of the man with the trial of Jesus.
Some questions for discussion:
If you are preaching from this reading for Mothering Sunday next Sunday, how would you relate that theme to the relationship between the man who was healed and his family, or to how people judge us and what we inherit from our families?
How often do we say someone has got their ‘come-uppance’ or their ‘just desserts’?
How often do we think someone has brought their own plight on themselves?
Or how often do we pass by someone in real need and think that their plight has been exacerbated by their failure to ‘pull themselves up by their bootstraps’?
How often do others seek evidence for our faith, but when presented with Christian living, love and discipleship as the only real evidences, do they continue to reject it?
Are prejudice and bias things we inherit, or things we chose to live by?
A sermon illustration:
What would you miss if you were blind?
So often, we take for granted not just our health and well-being but our physical senses too – our sight, speech, hearing, sense of smell and touch.
Even when we have the gift of sight, when we have 20/20 vision, we do not necessarily have the gift of being insightful. Throughout the Fourth Gospel, there is a sharp contrast between darkness and light, and also between seeing and believing. It is an interplay worked out very carefully yet very dramatically in this chapter, and also, for example, in the post-resurrection story of Thomas who refuses to believe until he sees (see John 20: 24-29).
Our eyes can play some nasty tricks on us, catching us out by surprise, not allowing us to see what is actually there.
Things are not always as we see them or as they seem.
Many of you are familiar with the match-stick play on the letters that make up the name of Jesus. It takes some time to puzzle it out. Then, once we have worked it out it becomes impossible to see the composition the way we had seen it in our ignorance.
In mosaics, if we look at the detail, we miss the whole picture. Sometimes 20/20 vision can be a barrier to clear vision and we have to squint our eyes to see the full picture, to see what the artist wants us to see.
In looking at mosaics in old churches or on Byzantine floors and walls, for example, I have to squint my eyes or even rely on someone else to help me pick out the colours before I get the full picture. I had to do this for the first time when I saw a mosaic of Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) on a street corner in Lichfield. This mosaic, by the controversial artist John Myatt, is based on a portrait of Dr Johnson by Sir Joshua Reynolds and was completed in 1976.
Perhaps it is appropriate that you have to squint when you are looking at this mosaic for the first time so that you get the whole picture, because Samuel Johnson was almost functionally blind since childhood, and to read he had to squint and peer. Yet he became one of the most important writers in the 18th century, and next only to William Shakespeare he is perhaps the most quoted English writer.
He went on to live such a saintly life that he is commemorated by the Church of England in the calendar of Common Worship on 13 December.
Samuel Johnson could have identified with the story of the blind young man in this Gospel reading. A childhood infection left him deaf in his left ear, almost blind in his left eye, with impaired vision in his right eye, and with scar tissue that disfigured his face. He was so blind and disabled that a family servant carried him on her back to and from school each day.
But he refused to allow his near-blindness and his visible disabilities to put him on the margins of society, or to blame his parents or himself for the disabilities that made him almost sightless and almost unsightly (see I Samuel 16: 7). Indeed, all this served to strengthen and to grow his faith as he matured.
In his diary he wrote one Easter:
‘Almighty and most merciful Father, who hast created and preserved me, have pity on my weakness and corruption. Let me not be created to misery, nor preserved only to multiply sin. Deliver me from habitual wickedness, and idleness, enable me to purify my thoughts, to use the faculties which thou hast given me with honest diligence, and to regulate my life by thy holy word.’
Later in life, he bemoaned the fact that the observance of Lent had fallen into neglect in Britain and in Ireland in his time, and he fasted strictly on Good Friday.
He is best known for his pioneering Dictionary of the English Language (1755), editing Shakespeare’s works, and his essays. Before writing those essays, he would pray in these words:
‘Almighty God … without whose grace all wisdom is folly, grant, I beseech thee, that in this my undertaking thy Holy Spirit may not be withheld from me, but that I may promote thy glory, and the salvation both of myself and others.’
Samuel Johnson turned his back to the smiters and did not hide his face from shame. His life story is one of darkness turning to light, of moving from blindness to sight, of rising above the harsh judgments of others to redemption, restoration and a living faith.
Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) … the portrait by Joshua Reynolds that inspired John Myatt’s mural in LichfieldJohn Myatt’s mosaic in Lichfield depicts the recognisable face of Samuel Johnson, including his squinting eyes. It is made of small plywood blocks painted with emulsion and marine varnish in a variety of colours. It is larger than life, measuring 2.32 m (7.61 ft) high x 3.36 m (11 ft) wide.
John Myatt is a controversial artist and a convicted forger who carried out ‘the biggest art fraud of the 20th century.’
At art school in Stafford he discovered an amusing talent for mimicking the styles of other artists. He began teaching art at a school near Tamworth in 1968 and opened a studio in Lichfield, where he created original works and in 1976 painted this street mural of Samuel Johnson.
Meanwhile, he was also travelling to Birmingham at weekends to study paintings by the Pre-Raphaelites and artists like Pissarro. It fuelled a passion that turned into quite a skill – undetectable fakes.
His first wife left him in 1985, and he gave up teaching and tried to make a living by painting original works in the style of well-known artists. While struggling to raise two children on an art teacher’s salary, he placed a notice in Private Eye in 1986 offering ‘genuine 19th and 20th century fakes for £200.’
John Drewe, a regular customer who claimed to be a professor of nuclear physics, resold some of these paintings as genuine works, and forged papers for their provenance. When he told John Myatt that Christie’s had accepted one of his paintings as a genuine work and paid £25,000, he became a willing accomplice to Drewe’s fraud, and began painting in the style of masters like Marc Chagall, Le Corbusier, Matisse and Graham Sutherland.
Drewe sold them to auction houses, including Christie’s, Phillips and Sotheby’s, and to dealers in London, Paris and New York.
Myatt was arrested in 1995. He quickly confessed, admitting he had created the paintings using emulsion paint and K-Y Jelly. He had made around £275,000, and he offered to return it all and to help to convict Drewe. They went on trial in 1998, and a few months later Myatt was sentenced to a year in prison and Drewe was sentenced to six years.
On his release, John Myatt’s arresting officer from Scotland Yard became the first new customer for his ‘Genuine Fakes.’ Since his release, John has continued to paint portraits and copies, now marked indelibly as fakes. Some have sold for up to £45,000.
In 2005, he and Stephen Sanders restored the mural of Samuel Johnson. Now John is a well-known Sky Arts presenter and is happily remarried. He is back living in Lichfield, where he is a committed Christian, and where he plays the organ in his local church every Sunday.
His story is not just a story with a happy ending, but a story for Lent about wilderness times, fall, redemption and restoration.
Both John Myatt and Samuel Johnson found themselves in the wilderness, but they moved from the trials of Lent to the hope of Easter.
Their stories are stories of compassion, and of how the compassion of Christ not only extends to but also embraces those who are pushed to the margins by others.
Those we think are blind can often see clearly and come to full faith in hidden ways. We can see, but do we have a faith that others can see in us, in how we live, how we pray, and how we show compassion to those who others would push to the margins or all too easily think are suffering because of their sins and the sins of their families?
Tertullian quoted a pagan official saying about the Christians: ‘Look at how much they love each other!’
We may see, but do we show we believe? We may believe, but do others see that we believe?
John 9: 1-41 (NRSVA):
9 As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’ 3 Jesus answered, ‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. 4 We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. 5 As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.’ 6 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, 7 saying to him, ‘Go, wash in the pool of Siloam’ (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. 8 The neighbours and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, ‘Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?’ 9 Some were saying, ‘It is he.’ Others were saying, ‘No, but it is someone like him.’ He kept saying, ‘I am the man.’ 10 But they kept asking him, ‘Then how were your eyes opened?’ 11 He answered, ‘The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, “Go to Siloam and wash.” Then I went and washed and received my sight.’ 12 They said to him, ‘Where is he?’ He said, ‘I do not know.’
13 They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. 14 Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. 15 Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, ‘He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.’ 16 Some of the Pharisees said, ‘This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.’ But others said, ‘How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?’ And they were divided. 17 So they said again to the blind man, ‘What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.’ He said, ‘He is a prophet.’
18 The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight 19 and asked them, ‘Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?’ 20 His parents answered, ‘We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; 21 but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.’ 22 His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. 23 Therefore his parents said, ‘He is of age; ask him.’
24 So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, ‘Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.’ 25 He answered, ‘I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.’ 26 They said to him, ‘What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?’ 27 He answered them, ‘I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?’ 28 Then they reviled him, saying, ‘You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. 29 We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.’ 30 The man answered, ‘Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. 32 Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.’ 34 They answered him, ‘You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?’ And they drove him out.
35 Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ 36 He answered, ‘And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.’ 37 Jesus said to him, ‘You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.’ 38 He said, ‘Lord, I believe.’ And he worshipped him. 39 Jesus said, ‘I came into this world for judgement so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.’ 40 Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, ‘Surely we are not blind, are we?’ 41 Jesus said to them, ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see”, your sin remains.
There is a link to a sermon on this Gospel reading on Mothering Sunday, 26 March 2017, HERE.
The Gospel readings for Mothering Sunday:
The two Gospel readings offered as choices for Mothering Sunday cannot be easy reading. Motherhood is difficult, and brings pain and grief for mothers and children. But motherhood also brings pain and grief to men and women who whose desire to be parents is never fulfilled. These two choices offer a view of motherhood that is challenging and asks us to question what it is to be a parent, to parent and to be parented.
Luke 2: 33-35:
This short Gospel reading is part of a longer reading normally linked with the Feast of the Presentation or Candlemas [2 February]. Nevertheless, the prophetic words of Simeon, which speak of the falling and rising of many and the sword that will pierce Mary’s heart, are appropriate in Lent too, leading us on to the Passion and Easter.
I grew up on a solid diet of English boys’ comics, graduating from the Beano and the Dandy in the 1950s to the Victor, the Valiant and the Hotspur in the early 1960s, and books and films set in places like Stalag Luft III, such as The Wooden Horse and The Great Escape.
There were limited story-lines, and the characters never had any great depth to them. In those decades immediately after World War II, Germans were caricatures rather characters, portrayed as Huns who had a limited vocabulary.
I recall how those German characters always referred to the Vaterland. Somehow, seeing your country as the Father-land made you harsh, unforgiving, demanding and violent. While those who saw their country as a mother, whether it was Britannia or Marianne, or perhaps even Hibernia, were supposed to be more caring, empathetic and ethical, endowed with justice and mercy.
These images somehow played on, pandered to, the images a previous generation had of the different roles of a father and a mother. So, culturally it may come as a surprise in this Gospel story, that both father and mother, Joseph and Mary, are amazed at what Simeon says about Jesus.
Yet, it is revealed only to Mary that ‘this child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’
The sufferings and compassion of three images in recent times illustrate for me how loving parents can be reflections of divine majesty and grace.
I think of the pregnant mother, a qualified solicitor who had been homeless, who told Valerie Cox on RTÉ radio some years ago how she was forced to walk the streets of Dublin because the hostel where she was staying would not allow her in until 7.30 in the evening. No one gave her anything and she had no proper bed at night. She was 6½ months pregnant, had an eight-year-old daughter, and Mother Ireland has betrayed her.
Or I think of Syrian mothers who are refugees crossing the Aegean Sea or the land border between Turkey and Greece in recent weeks, and see their children beaten and in some cases drown just as they reach the shores of Greece.
Or I think of Nuala Creane, who spoke movingly many years ago at the funeral of her son Sebastian, who was murdered in Bray in 2009. In a well-sculpted eulogy, carved with all the beauty, precision, delicacy and impact of a Pieta being sculpted by a Michelangelo, she told all present that ‘my story, my God is the God of Small Things. I see God’s presence in the little details.’
She spoke of the heartbreak and the choice that faces everyone confronted with the deepest personal tragedies, admitting, ‘Our hearts are broken but maybe our hearts needed to be broken so that they could expand.’
Broken hearts, expanding hearts, souls that have been pierced, rising to the challenge with unconditional love … this is how I hope I understand the majesty and the glory of Christ, at the best of times and at the worst of times.
How as a society – whether it is our local community, this island, or in Europe – are we mothers to those mothers in need?
How, as a Church, so often spoken of lovingly as ‘Mother Church,’ do we speak up for God’s children in their time of need and despair?
I try to imagine, on Mothering Sunday, how Christ had good experiences of mothering as he was growing up. The Christ Child, when he was born, was cradled in the lap of a loving mother who at the time could never know that when he died and was taken down from the cross she would cradle him once again in her lap.
But the experience of a mother’s loss and grief that come to mind in Lent is given new hope at Easter.
On Mothering Sunday, we move through Lent towards Good Friday and Easter Day, How do we, like Christ, and like so many suffering mothers, grow to understand those who suffer, those who grieve, those who forgive?
Luke 2: 33-35 (NRSVA):
33 And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. 34 Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed 35 so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed — and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’
John 19: 25-27:
‘Woman, here is your son … here is your mother.’ These words from the dying Christ on the cross are the third set of words in the traditional way we count the Seven Last Words, often used to shape Good Friday commemorations. This phrase is traditionally called ‘The Word of Relationship.’
In these tender words, the dying Christ entrusts his weeping mother Mary to the care of the Beloved Disciple. But Christ is not creating a one-way relationship. He immediately follows this by creating a new relationship for the Beloved Disciple: ‘Here is your mother.’
He entrusts her to him – and him to her. Relationships always have at least two dimensions. But the best of relationships are three dimensional – one to another, and each other to God.
And that central truth about relationships is at the heart of the events of the Cross. As Saint Paul says, on the cross Christ was reconciling us to God and to one another (see Ephesians 2: 15-22).
There are some relationships we cannot create, there are others we cannot control, and others still that we have no choice about.
We cannot create our family. Our families are already given, even before we are born or adopted.
And those relationships survive though all adversities. They are fixed. They are given. Even though my father and mother are dead, they remain my parents. Even though a couple may divorce, each one in the old relationship remains a sister-in-law or a daughter-in-law, a brother-in-law or a son-in-law – albeit qualified by the word ‘former.’ In time, they may find they have new relationships: when their children have children, they share grandchildren they never expected. They may want to forget their past relationship, but it remains on the family tree for some future genealogist to tell everyone about.
I like to imagine that one of the untold stories in the aftermath of the Wedding at Cana is the new network or web of family relationships that have been created. After the wedding feast, the first of the Seven Signs in Saint John’s Gospel, Christ ‘went down to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers, and his disciples; and they remained there for a few days’ (John 2: 12).
On the way, or back in Capernaum, one finds he is now a brother-in-law, another that she is a sister-in-law, some, perhaps, realise they have a new aunt or uncle, or perhaps a new niece or nephew by marriage.
We cannot create family, yet family often creates us, shapes us, gives us identity and allows others to decide where we fit socially.
There are relationships we cannot control.
Most of us cannot control who we work with. That is the choice of our employers, and even for employers that is legislation to make sure they are not discriminating. Clergy cannot, and should not try to, control who are their parishioners.
If we try to control who is and who is not a member of the Church, depending on the relationships we like to have and the relationships we do not like to have, we will find we have a church that has an ever-decreasing number of members, so that eventually we become a dwindling sect, wanting to make God in our own image and likeness, rather than accepting that we are all made in God’s image and likeness. And that eventually becomes a sect of one, where there is no place for the One who matters.
There are relationships we have no choice about. I cannot choose my friends and I cannot choose my neighbours.
Have you ever noticed that when a house is on the market, both the vendors and the estate agents tell you the neighbours are wonderful? It is only after you move in that you are likely to find out if you have, as the recent ITV television documentary series describes them, ‘the neighbours from hell.’
I cannot choose my friends. No matter how much I want to be friends with someone, if they do not want to be my friend, that’s it. I cannot force friendship. When I have a friendship, I can work on it, nurture it, help it to grow and blossom. But I cannot force a friendship. If you don’t want to be my friend, that is your choice, and if you do, and I don’t nurture that friendship, then you are going to change your mind.
Christ knows all about relationships, and he shows that on the Cross.
Relationships define us as human. Without relating to others, how can I possibly know what it is to be human? From the very beginning, God, who creates us in God’s own image and likeness, knows that it is not good for us to be alone. And in the Trinity, we find that God is relationship.
Relationship is at the heart of the cross. And there, on the cross, even as he is hanging in agony, the dying Jesus is compassionately thinking of others and of relationships.
His mother Mary is the only person throughout the Gospel narratives who has been with Christ from the beginning to the end, from his birth to his death. She has been with Christ throughout his whole life.
Saint John, the Beloved Disciple, is the disciple whom Jesus loved. We are blessed if we have a very best friend, a person to whom I am closer than any other. John is such a best friend for Jesus throughout the Gospel narrative. In the Fourth Gospel, we hear that John was ‘the beloved.’ John was the person to whom Christ was the closest. John was the best friend of Jesus.
In the midst of his dying, pain-filled moments before his death, Christ is heard thinking of the needs of the two people who love him most during his life: his mother and his best friend.
As the soldiers are gambling over his clothes and casting lots to divide them among themselves, Jesus sees three women – his mother Mary, Mary the wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene, standing near the cross, and his mother is standing with the Beloved Disciple.
He turns to his mother and he says to her: ‘Woman, here is your son.’
He then turns to the Beloved Disciple and says: ‘Here is your mother.’
It is not a command, it is not a directive, it is not an instruction. It is a giving in love, just as his own death on the cross is self-giving. And in giving there is love and there is life.
And from that hour, we are told, the disciple took her into his own home.
Later, we find Mary and John together in the Upper Room when the Holy Spirit is given to the Church (see Acts 1: 14).
Tradition says the Virgin Mary and Saint John later travelled to Ephesus, and that she lived in his house to her dying days.
Jerome, in his commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians (Jerome, Comm. in ep. ad. Gal., 6, 10), tells the well-loved story that John the Evangelist continued preaching in Ephesus even when he was in his 90s. He was so enfeebled with old age that the people had to carry him into the Church in Ephesus on a stretcher.
And when he was no longer able to preach or deliver a long discourse, his custom was to lean up on one elbow on and say simply: ‘Little children, love one another.’
This continued on, even when the ageing John was on his death-bed. Then he would lie back down and his friends would carry him back out.
Every week, the same thing happened, again and again. And every week it was the same short sermon, exactly the same message: ‘Little children, love one another.’
One day, the story goes, someone asked him about it: ‘John, why is it that every week you say exactly the same thing, ‘little children, love one another’?’ And John replied: ‘Because it is enough.’ If you want to know the basics of living as a Christian, there it is in a nutshell. All you need to know is. ‘Little children, love one another.’
If you want to know the rules, there they are. And there’s only one. ‘Little children, love one another.’
As far as John is concerned, if you have put your trust in Christ, then there is only one other thing you need to know. So, week after week, he would remind them, over and over again: ‘Little children, love one another.’ That is all he preached in Ephesus, week after week, and that is precisely the message he keeps on repeating in his first letter (I John), over and over again: ‘Little children, love one another.’
Christ teaches us to love, even when he is dying, even when we are dying. That is what relationships are about, and that is what the Cross is all about.
The cross broadens the concept of family – the family of God. Jesus changes the basis of relationships. No longer are relationships to be formed on the basis of natural descent, on shared ethic identity, on agreeing that others are ‘like us.’
Our shared place beneath the cross is the only foundational space for relationships from now on.
Mary gained another son. And the Beloved Disciple gained a new mother.
Beneath the cross of Christ, Christian fellowship is born not just for Mary and John, but also for you and me, and for everyone else who believes, for all who believe.
Beneath the cross of Christ, we become a new family.
Beneath the cross of Christ, we become brothers and sisters in Christ.
Beneath the cross of Christ, we realise that we are now part of the family of God.
On the cross, Christ entrusts us as his children to one another, to love one another.
‘Little children, love another.’
John 19: 25-27 (NRSVA):
25 Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ 27 Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.
Liturgical Resources:
Liturgical Colour: Violet (Lent, Year A).
The canticle Gloria may be omitted in Lent.
Traditionally in Anglicanism, the doxology or Gloria at the end of Canticles and Psalms is also omitted during Lent.
Penitential Kyries:
In the wilderness we find your grace:
you love us with an everlasting love.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
There is none but you to uphold our cause;
our sin cries out and our guilt is great.
Christ, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Heal us, O Lord, and we shall be healed;
Restore us and we shall know your joy.
Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
The Collect of the Day (Lent IV):
Lord God
whose blessed Son our Saviour
gave his back to the smiters
and did not hide his face from shame:
Give us grace to endure the sufferings of this present time
with sure confidence in the glory that shall be revealed;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
The Collect of the Day (Mothering Sunday):
God of compassion,
whose Son Jesus Christ, the child of Mary,
shared the life of a home in Nazareth,
and on the cross drew the whole human family to himself:
Strengthen us in our daily living
that in joy and in sorrow
we may know the power of your presence
to bind together and to heal;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
The Lenten Collect:
Almighty and everlasting God,
you hate nothing that you have made
and forgive the sins of all those who are penitent:
Create and make in us new and contrite hearts
that we, worthily lamenting our sins
and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may receive from you, the God of all mercy,
perfect remission and forgiveness;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
This Collect may be said after the Collect of the Day until Easter Eve
The Collect of the Word:
Heavenly Father,
who chose the Blessed Virgin Mary
to be the mother of our Lord, your only begotten Son,
and to suffer with him.
Help us too to bear the cross
so that we may share with her in your life for ever.
This we ask through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.
Or
God of mercies,
your only Son, while hanging on the cross,
appointed Mary, his mother,
to be his beloved disciple's mother.
May we follow her good example and always care for others
for the sake of Jesus Christ our Saviour
through whose name we pray.
Introduction to the Peace:
Being justified by faith,
we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. (Romans 5: 1, 2)
Alternative words suitable for use at the Peace:
Dr Samuel Johnson’s ‘Last Letter to his Aged Mother,’ written 250 years ago on 20 January 1769, reads:
Dear Honoured Mother:
Neither your condition nor your character make it fit for me to say much. You have been the best mother, and I believe the best woman, in the world. I thank you for your indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness of all that I have done ill, and all that I have omitted to do well. God grant you his Holy Spirit, and receive you to everlasting happiness, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen. Lord Jesus receive your spirit. Amen.
Preface:
Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who was in every way tempted as we are yet did not sin;
by whose grace we are able to overcome all our temptations:
The Post-Communion Prayer (Lent IV):
Father,
through your goodness
we are refreshed through your Son
in word and sacrament.
May our faith be so strengthened and guarded
that we may witness to your eternal love
by our words and in our lives.
Grant this for Jesus’ sake, our Lord.
The Post-Communion Prayer (Mothering Sunday):
Loving God,
as a mother feeds her children at the breast,
you feed us in this sacrament with spiritual food and drink.
Help us who have tasted your goodness
to grow in grace within the household of faith;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Blessing:
Christ give you grace to grow in holiness,
to deny yourselves,
and to take up your cross and follow him:
Suggested Hymns (Lent IV):
I Samuel 16: 1-13:
630, Blessed are the pure in heart
125, Hail to the Lord’s anointed
306, O Spirit of the living God
498, What does the Lord require for praise and offering?
Psalm 23:
644, Faithful Shepherd, feed me
645, Father, hear the prayer we offer
466, Here from all nations, all tongues, and all peoples
467, How bright those glorious spirits shine
655, Loving Shepherd of your sheep
433, My God, your table here is spread
235, O sacred head, sore wounded
365, Praise to the Lord, the almighty, the King of creation
20, The King of love my shepherd is
21, The Lord’s my shepherd; I’ll not want
448, The trumpets sound, the angels sing
Ephesians 5: 8-14:
51, Awake, my soul, and with the sun
613, Eternal light, shine in my heart
74, First of the week and finest day
126, Hark! a thrilling voice is sounding
490, The Spirit lives to set us free
142, Wake, O wake with tidings thrilling
143, Waken, O sleeper, wake and rise
John 9: 1-41:
642, Amazing grace (how sweet the sound!)
87, Christ is the world’s light, he and none other
501, Christ is the world’s true light
52, Christ, whose glory fills the skies
296, Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire
324, God, whose almighty word
417, He gave his life in selfless love
576, I heard the voice of Jesus say
357, I’ll praise my maker while I’ve breath
553, Jesu, lover of my soul
587, Just as I am without one plea
231, My song is love unknown
104, O for a thousand tongues to sing
106, O Jesus, King most wonderful
373, To God be the glory! Great things he has done!
Suggested Hymns (Mothering Sunday readings):
Exodus 2: 1-10:
541, God of Eve and God of Mary
569, Hark, my soul, it is the Lord
I Samuel 1: 20-28:
391, Father, now behold us
651, Jesus, friend of little children
Psalm 34: 11-20:
657, O God of Bethel, by whose hand
507, Put peace into each other’s hands
372, Through all the changing scenes of life
Psalm 127: 1-4:
63, All praise to thee, my God, this night
481, God is working his purpose out as year succeeds to year
543, Lord of the home, your only Son
288, Thine be the glory, risen, conquering, Son
II Corinthians 1: 3-7:
361, Now thank we all our God
508, Peace to you
Colossians 3: 12-17:
346, Angel voices, ever singing
294, Come, down, O Love divine
550, ‘Forgive our sins as we forgive’
454, Forth in the name of Christ we go
300, Holy Spirit, truth divine
360, Let all the world in every corner sing
525, Let there be love shared among us
503, Make me a channel of your peace
361, Now thank we all our God
369, Songs of praise the angels sang
601, Teach me, my God and King
374, When all thy mercies, O my God
458, When, in our music, God is glorified
Luke 2: 33-35:
691, Faithful vigil ended
125, Hail to the Lord’s anointed
John 19: 25-27:
523, Help us to help each other, Lord
226, It is a thing most wonderful
495, Jesu, Jesu, fill us with your love
472, Sing we of the blessed mother (verses 1-2)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Material from the Book of Common Prayer is copyright © 2004, Representative Body of the Church of Ireland.
The hymn suggestions are provided in Sing to the Word (2000), edited by Bishop Edward Darling. The hymn numbers refer to the Church of Ireland’s Church Hymnal (5th edition, Oxford: OUP, 2000).
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