A group of English children had a pet kitten that was sick.  They prayed fervently that it would get well, but it died.  They decided to visit their vicar.  They found him in a teashop, taking a morning break, enjoying tea and the newspaper. They asked him, "Why did God let our cat die?" The vicar was not happy to be interrupted, but he casually put down his paper and entered into a long, complicated, theological explanation of why the cat died. The children listened intently. When he was finished, he wished them well and went back to his newspaper.  Walking from the teashop, one little boy looked up to his sister and said, "He doesn’t know, does he?"

 

“Why did our kitten die?”  the children ask.

Jesus’ disciples ask “Why was this man born blind?”

 

We ask all sorts of why questions:

Why did her mother die when she was only 10 years old?

Why did I get laid off after years of faithful hard work?

Why did that child access a loaded gun and accidentally shoot a sibling?

Why did their marriage come apart?

Why did that cancer treatment work for some people but not for my loved one?

 

What I have learned about why questions is that they rarely have good answers.  Even when our vicars, our pastors, our trusted friends, try to provide answers, we suspect they don’t really know, or what they say is not satisfying to us. 

 

Another thing I have learned about why questions is that we can get stuck in rut trying to answer them.  We ask these questions most earnestly in the midst of crisis or grief.  We mistakenly think that if we can only answer the “why” question, we can resolve the crisis and make the pain go away.  Since the why questions rarely have good answers, it doesn’t work, but we persist, asking “why, why, why” again and again. 

 

Actually, the disciples don’t ask “why was this man born blind?”  They ask, “Who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?”  They ask out of a certain theological framework.  They know that illness is connected to sin.  It’s what they’ve been taught.  This case is puzzling because the man was born blind.  Could he have sinned before he was born?  Or is it his parent’s fault? 

 

But Jesus doesn’t work within their categories.  He says that it’s not about sin, but interestingly enough, he doesn’t get stuck in trying to answer the why question any further. 

 

He does restore the man’s sight – which just seems to raise more questions, this time from the religious authorities.  The disciple’s categories were about the sin of the man and his parents.  The religious leaders are more concerned with Jesus. To perform that kind of healing, he must be from God.  But in their system, a godly person wouldn’t work on the Sabbath.  So he must not be from God.  He doesn’t fit neatly into their categories. 

 

It’s like the Lutheran man who stopped by his pastor’s office.  This man was a pillar of the congregation and he told his pastor, “I’ve been born again.” 
“You’ve been what?” the pastor asked.

“I visited my brother-in-law’s church, the Running River of Life Tabernacle, and I don’t know what it was, but something happened and I’m born again.” 

The pastor said, “You can’t be born again.  You’re a Lutheran!”[1]

 

Theological systems have rules. Lutherans have rules, Episcopalians have rules.  Baptists have rules, but ours are mostly the unwritten kind, which are the hardest to pin down, but look out if you break them!  The religious leaders in Jesus’ day had rules, most of which were written down, and Jesus did break them, and he was told “you can’t do that.” 

 

Theological systems have their place.  They usually start because someone is trying to answer important, meaningful questions.  The religious leaders are not the heroes of this story, but to be fair, we should acknowledge that they are only acting out of human nature.  It is our nature to want answers to the why questions.  It is our nature to put things in categories as a way of processing and understanding and surviving in our world.  And even today, when there are often no good answers to the why questions, people look for them and other people try to provide them.

 

It usually happens in the wake of a tragedy or a natural disaster.  After Hurricane Katrina brought destruction on the Gulf Coast, one Christian leader emphatically stated that it was God’s judgment on the wickedness in New Orleans, Alabama and Mississippi.  There was the wickedness of the gambling industry, with a new casino set to open on Labor Day weekend.  There was the 34th annual Gay Pride Gala to be held in New Orleans and then of course, the general immorality, drugs and corruption of the French Quarter. God’s anger at all of these was supposedly the reason that so many people lost lives and loved ones and homes in the hurricane.[2]  That line of reasoning may have satisfied some people’s needs to answer the why questions. 

 

But you know what?  Upon thoughtful examination of the facts, we find that the French Quarter was actually spared by the hurricane and that casinos along the Gulf Coast were the first businesses to re-open.  They reported their best year ever the year after they reopened.  And about blaming it on the Gay Pride Gala?  Well, the hurricane came ashore on August 29^th.  The gala was to be held August 31 to September 5.  Surely an all-powerful God set on punishment could have got the hurricane to strike at the right time to wipe out all those supposed sinners.  And what about all the thousands of faithful Christians who lost their homes and some their lives or loved ones in the destruction?  What was God punishing them for? 

 

“Don’t bother me with the facts.”  That’s what we think when we are set on making our pre-determined answers fit the situation.  It’s what happens in this story.  The religious leaders keep badgering the blind man and his parents and his neighbors to get the answers they want.  The neighbors begin to think that maybe it’s not the man they’ve known all his life.  Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him.  (Yeah, right.)    His parents are afraid.  When asked how his sight was restored, they say, “We don’t know.  He’s an adult. Ask him.” 

 

And so they do.  There are an amazing number of things the man doesn’t know.  He was blind when he encountered Jesus.  Jesus sent him to wash in the pool of Siloam and afterwards he could see, but he never saw Jesus’ face.  He can’t identify him.  He doesn’t where Jesus is.  And when the religious leaders ask him if Jesus is a sinner, he says he doesn’t know that either. 

 

But he does know something, one profound thing – he says, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” This is his story, his truth.  And he will not let it be taken from him. 

 

It may have happened that way in our lives too.  We have an experience that teaches us, and enables us to stand fast, sometimes in spite of the so-called experts, sometimes in spite of our friends and family’s lack of support and understanding.  We may not have all the answers, but we have faith in what we do know.

 

“One thing I know, I was blind, but now I see.”

“One thing I know, I have more painful treatments ahead of me, but I woke up after surgery profoundly grateful to God to be alive.”

 “One thing I know, I am an alcoholic, but God has given me the strength and courage to stay sober for 7 years.”

“While I cannot authentically affirm the doctrines of my parents and grandparents, this one thing I know:  I am still a follower of Jesus.” 

“One thing I know, I experience the most joy and sense of God’s presence when I am serving the poor and the left out, the last and the least.  I know this is my passion and purpose.” 

“This one thing I know, love is stronger than death.” 

 

The blind man could easily have gotten stuck on the why questions.  “Why was I born blind?”

“Why wasn’t I healed sooner?” 

“Why did I have to spend so many years without sight?”

 

But he didn’t.  He allowed himself to be healed, not only of his blindness, but of any bitterness about it.  When he meets Jesus face-to-face and Jesus tells him who he is, the man says, “Lord, I believe” and he worships him. 

 

This journey called life includes some unknowns.  It includes a lot of why questions that have no good answers.  Like the blind man, we don’t see Jesus face to face.  There may be an astonishing number of things we don’t know, but like this man, we can put our faith in our experiences of God.  Even if we only know one thing, it may be the thing that saves us.

 

Theologian Douglas John Hall says that “faith is a dialogue with doubt.”  He continues, “Doubt is not a stranger to the faithful.  ‘Lord, I believe, help my unbelief”—this is the prayer of true faith.  . . Christians are not people who are all absolute certitude and no questions: they are people whose confidence in God is always being worked out in the heat of day-to-day living.  They must always renew their trust, because their living is also characterized by a good deal of mistrust, both of God and their neighbours.  It is as they confess their doubt that they are able to glimpse again the mysteries that brought them to faith.”[3]

 

“Faith is a dialogue with doubt”   I don’t know about you, but I hear that as good news, very good news.  The people in this story who don’t get it are the ones who are supposed to know it all, the clergy, the ones who’ve studied systematic theology and are certain that they have it all worked out.  John wants us to understand that the one person in this story who really gets it, the one who sees best, is the man who used to be blind, because he recognizes Jesus for who he is.

 

 Sisters and brothers, this is good news.  Here are the things that matter – we don’t have to exhaust ourselves with the why questions, but rather we can learn that it is OK and even faithful not to know all the answers.  More importantly, we can learn to recognize God’s presence in our lives and the lives of others, even when it breaks our rules or bends our theological framework.  And most importantly, someday it may happen that you or I may find ourselves with our backs to the wall, standing up to the powers that be.  And we may find ourselves saying “This one thing I know.”  And when that happens, brothers and sisters, what you know will be enough.  Amen.