John 9:1-41
Fourth Sunday of Lent: April 3, 2011
Somewhere in the coverage of Japan this week, I stumbled upon a Japanese proverb. It says: “Fix the problem, not the blame.” From most of what I have heard, with one notable, very public exception, people in Japan are responding to fix the problem more than to fix the blame. But, that doesn’t seem to stop others from focusing on the blame.
We’ve heard the outrageous examples of assigning blame for the disaster itself not just in the case of Japan but almost any time we see large scale destruction: Katrina, Haiti, Indonesia. It’s the fault of an immoral society, some people say, and then go on to catalog their pet sins that exemplify such a society.
But, there have also been articles that, even if they are not fixing blame for the natural disaster, they can’t resist the temptation to use this event as an opportunity to criticize Japan for all sorts of things: Economic weakness, aging workforce, weakening country – not to mention the inevitable articles and commentary criticizing how the government responded to the disaster. There has been relatively little politically motivated exploitation of the tragedy in Japan by the Japanese people themselves. The impulse to turn a catastrophe into a political football has been far more pronounced among foreign critics of nuclear power and Western advocacy groups, who seem to regard the disaster in Japan as an opportunity to promote their agenda through the theme of ‘I told you so’.
I really can’t be too critical of this though. For one thing, it would surely be an example of the pot calling the kettle black. Maybe not with the Japanese situation, but I am as susceptible to the blame game as anyone. In fact, I think it’s kind of human nature. Fix the blame, not the problem.
As one columnist wrote,
“Throughout human history, catastrophes like that which has befallen Japan have forced people to make sense of the enormity of events. Such a violent disruption to life brings about not only a physical crisis, but an existential one, too. Momentous events of this scale call into question the prevailing system of meaning. In such circumstances, people are forced to find answers to questions that sometimes they dare not ask. That is why, [since biblical times], floods and droughts have been associated with powerful religious and moral tales about human error and divine retribution.”
Blaming someone or something for catastrophe or tragedy is as old as humankind – and it seems to have two main benefits: 1. We can distance ourselves from the suffering. 2. We can make sense out of chaos and thus convince ourselves we live in an explainable world protected from random, unpredictable tragedy.
If Japan is somehow to blame, if not for the natural disaster itself, then for any glitches or delays in recovering from it, then we aren’t responsible for the human suffering occurring “over there.” It’s the ole’, “she made her bed, now she must lie in it.” Basic politeness keeps us from externalizing such thoughts in the face of things like Japan, but I think such thoughts are present and that’s partly why we see the need to blame.
And of course, if Japan – the Japanese government – is entirely to blame for the suffering of the people, then we can convince ourselves that there is a way – a magic bullet – to keep such suffering at bay. If there’s someone to blame, there’s something that can be fixed. We think, this wouldn’t happen to us because we can do better when the time comes. This is our attempt to create meaning – to make sense of something that probably can’t be made sense of.
Consider another example: Poverty. We have made it a national pass time to blame people in poverty for their own situation. And why not? First, this allows us to distance ourselves from painful human suffering. If someone is to blame for their own poverty, then, we convince ourselves, they can fix it themselves. Their suffering is their own, and it’s up to them to do something about it. Second, blaming helps us make meaning out of a scary, overwhelming reality. As long as we don’t make the same mistakes, we think, we won’t become poor ourselves. It’s human nature to fix blame.
Yet the Japanese proverb, as well as Jesus, I think, calls us to something different. In fact, it seems to me the proverb nicely sums up the encounter between Jesus and the man born blind. His whole life, the man born blind had been the victim of those trying to fix blame. “Who sinned,” the disciples asked Jesus, “this man or his parents that he was born blind?” They don’t even leave room for any other possibility. Someone is to blame for this human tragedy. This was a long-held, deeply entrenched belief for people. They simply never thought to question it. Disaster has befallen this family, and so blame must be assigned.
Blindness was a huge problem in the ancient world. It was highly contagious and spread through insects and was aggravated by sun and dust. Given this, you can imagine who was most afflicted by this disease. Those who could wash frequently, or come in out of the sun were still susceptible I’m sure, but the majority of the people who were blind and suffering were not just poor – they were destitute, homeless, and complete outcasts. Being blind, regardless of how you came to be that way, usually came firmly attached to stigma and judgment…not to mention great fear of the same thing happening to you. Given this it was almost necessary for people to insist that you must have done something wrong if you are blind.
Blaming the victim gave people permission to distance themselves from the suffering. And it wasn’t just emotional distance; they created distance by shunning them from the community because of course, they had sinned – they deserved it. Then, out of sight, out of mind – pun intended. And blaming the victim helped people make meaning of something that had no meaning – ensuring them the feeling that they were in control. It’s all explainable: Sin…you can go blind. Don’t sin…you will be protected from such a terrible fate. Comforting maybe, but Jesus refuses this comforting way of thinking and instead of blaming the blind man, he gets to work fixing the problem. “Work the works,” he tells the disciples. Don’t blame; fix, heal, care for, reach out and touch the untouchable.
The blind man meets Jesus, who has no interest in blame, but rather stops what he is doing – without regard to conventions or protocol, and reaches out figuratively and literally and fixes the problem. The way Jesus healed the blindness was so personal – his own spit, touching the eyes of someone considered unclean, risking his own credibility and place in the religious community by doing it on a Sabbath. He tied his well being to that of the blind man. He un-distanced himself. Jesus was asking people to un-distance themselves from suffering as well. We are, he shows them, responsible for alleviating people’s suffering. When you see people hurting, don’t try to make it their fault; respond – work the works.
Of course, often responding means stepping outside the elaborate systems of meaning we have carefully constructed in order to shield ourselves from feeling vulnerable. Look at how Jesus makes his point: Jesus not only says this man and his family are not to blame, but Jesus blatantly, on purpose, commits a sin himself. He’s working on the Sabbath. If you’re going to blame anyone, he says, blame me. He could have waited a day – this man had been blind his whole life – one more day wouldn’t have been much. But he doesn’t wait – he works the works on the Sabbath. He was so secure in the belief that sin does not invite disaster, any more than following the rules protects you from it, that he sins right there in front of everyone so they could see it for themselves.
It took a while for the man to see fully – metaphorically. This long passage is partially about his slow recovery of spiritual sight after his immediate recovery of physical sight. He believed just as deeply as the rest that sin was the problem. He believed just as deeply as the rest that someone who sins – cures on the Sabbath for instance – could not have possibly brought such good to his life.
When he’s first asked who cured him, he says “A guy named Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and told me to go and wash up. I did, and now I see.” Just the facts – that’s all that’s safe to report…he doesn’t know who this guy is and if he really wants to associate with him. But a few verses later, when the Pharisees deny Jesus could be acting on behalf of God, the man defends him. “He’s a prophet,” he says. The next time he comes right out and says “Jesus is from God.” He’s getting it more and more. Finally, when he’s back with Jesus, Jesus asks him not just who he thinks Jesus is, but he asks if he’s ready to give himself over to this new way – the one that God shows us where blame is no longer the way we do business. And he’s ready. The man’s sight is fully recovered.
It’s not surprising that it was a slow conversion. We’re used to the blame game. We trust it on a certain level, even if we’re the ones being blamed. It’s a game that provides systems of safety and stability, and most of us like systems of safety and stability.
But Jesus yearns for us to see. Jesus is the light – and Jesus’ actions with the blind man refracts that light to reveal a more beautiful way. He illumines the problems with systems that hurt, and shows us what’s possible when we choose to live in his world. We are loved into wholeness by God, without blame, and we can love others to wholeness as well. But it can be hard to trust God’s unconventional ways. It can be hard to give up blaming with all its perceived benefits, even when such thinking hurts everyone involved, including ourselves. It takes a while, I think. It’s scary to step outside of how we think when it is that thinking that gives us protection from suffering and makes us feel safe and secure. It’s terrifying to un-distance ourselves from other people’s pain, and to open ourselves to the constant reality that tragedy can happen to anyone.
To fix blame is human. But to respond to suffering without regard to how it arose is to live lives that refract the light of God into a broken world today, making love visible in all its colors and glory, bringing wholeness and healing to people most in need. Amen.
