“From 'Why?' to 'What Next?'”     

First Congregational United Church of Christ

March 2, 2008

The Rev. Sharyl B. Peterson

Scripture Readings:   John 9

On Thursday morning, before I started working seriously on my sermon, I was editing the March edition of our church newsletter, “The Tower Chimes.”  As I re-read the Prayer Concerns for this past month, I prayed again for each of those we know are ill, or grieving, or struggling.  For 16-year-old Emily, the daughter of Mary Wilkie’s boss, whose biopsy for cancer was negative, but whose medical future is still uncertain.  For Rick, Donna’s Hochmuth’s brother, who is struggling to find work.  For Jody, Cal Bilger’s daughter, and for Steve, Nancy and Dave Hoefer’s son, who are both struggling with life-threatening medical conditions.  For the families of little Alex and of little Darlene, and of Gene Seeley, who are grieving the losses of beloved children, of a beloved father, husband, and community member.

            And as I prayed and thought, I realized that any one of those people – that every one of those people – as well as all those folks we prayed for this morning – people we know personally, or at least know the people who know them personally, and care about – could be the blind man in today’s story from John’s Gospel.  And I realized how any one of us – how every one of us – could be one of those disciples who came to Jesus, asking the question that is often foremost on our minds and hearts when we see or hear about someone who is suffering:  why?  Why is this happening?  Why is this happening to this person, or to these people?

            Now those first-century disciples asked the question out of their tradition’s understandings, a tradition that included a belief that suffering occurs because God was punishing the sufferer for his or her sinfulness.  And so they ask Jesus, “Rabbi – teacher – tell us:  who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  “Whose fault is this, anyway?”  And this question that seems perfectly reasonable to them gives Jesus the opportunity for a perfect teaching moment.

            He understands fully where they are coming from theologically.  He knows that there were many places in the Hebrew scriptures – what we call the Old Testament – that talk about God deliberately and harshly punishing sinners.  Texts like Exodus 20:5, which says:  “I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me.”

            They’re the very passages that I sometimes hear people today draw on today when something bad happens, and they’re struggling to explain why.  Like a family I worked with years ago when I was a hospital chaplain, whose 20-year-old son was brought in close to death from an accident in which he had rolled over his truck.  He apparently had just left a bar, after drinking heavily all night, and his parents’ response was something like, “Well, I guess the Lord was just trying to show him that all that drinking is wrong!”

            Now, those people weren’t foolish … or silly … or bad … they were simply being human, and being human out of their particular faith understandings.  And it’s those particular faith understandings that Jesus goes on to challenge in this passage.

            In response to the disciples’ question, Jesus stuns them all by telling them that they have it all wrong!  “Who sinned – this man, or his parents – that he was born blind?”  “Neither one.”  “He was born so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”

            Jesus was telling them, God doesn’t cause afflictions like blindness to punish people.  God is love.  God is the one who sent Me.  Remember?  “God so loved the world…”

            His response reminds me of a story I read several years ago about William Sloane Coffin – one of this century’s greatest theologians, teachers, and preachers (who was also UCC, as it happens) – when his young adult son was killed in an auto accident.  His well-meaning friends and colleagues were gathered around him and his family, and they kept asking the “why?” question.  Why would God make this happen?  Or why would God let this happen? 

            And finally Coffin looked at one well-meaning woman and said, “Listen.  I don’t believe for a moment that God caused this to happen.  I believe that when my son drove off that curve and went into the river, and the icy water closed over his head, God’s heart was the first to break.”

            Was Rev. Coffin suggesting that there aren’t consequences for making bad choices and decisions – in his son’s case, choosing to drive too fast, on icy roads, in a car that was mechanically unfit?  No, not at all.  Is Jesus suggesting that there aren’t consequences for making bad choices and decisions – of what some people might think of as “sin”?  No, not at all.

            Clearly, when we make bad or stupid choices, suffering can certainly occur as a result.  The inexperienced climber who decides to climb Independence Peak up in the Monument, but doesn’t have the skills, or proper equipment, or knowledge needed to do it might well fall – be injured – even be killed.

But those consequences – that suffering – doesn’t occur because God is trying to punish this person.  They occur because this world we live in comes with some built-in operating principles, which include gravity.  And when a person does something that bumps up against those laws – whether it’s climbing a mountain unprepared, or building a home in a flood-plain, or living in a part of the country that often experiences earthquakes – God simply doesn’t suspend the natural laws in order to protect us.  But at the same time, God doesn’t cause the fall – or the flood – or the earthquake – from which the suffering arises.

            One thing Jesus is trying to help his disciples – and us – understand here is that suffering is complicated.  Sometimes people do suffer because they’ve made bad choices.  And sometimes they suffer because they’ve made good choices – for example, the soldier who puts his or her life at risk to protect a comrade, or to bring freedom to other people; the missionary who puts her or his health at risk by living and serving in a country where there is warfare or serious disease             so she can provide dental care for people who wouldn’t otherwise get it, or so he can teach children who wouldn’t otherwise get an education; the teacher who puts his or her career at risk by serving in a poor, inner-city school instead of in a prestigious suburban school, or the doctor who does the same by working in an inner-city clinic instead of in a suburban hospital.

            All of these people may well suffer – injury … death … illness … loss … but again, not because God is punishing them for something, but because in each of these cases, they are choosing to do what Jesus goes on to talk about in this passage.  In verse 4, he tells his disciples – and us – “We must work the works of God who sent me.”  We must help do the work that God needs done in order for people to have the kind of whole, healthy lives that God yearns for us all to have.  And if we do that work, then God’s goodness and love will be made manifest, even in the middle of suffering and pain.

            Jesus’ point in this very long encounter is that the world – and the suffering in it – are too complicated for simple explanations.  And finding fault – trying to lay blame – trying to answer the “why?” question – is ultimately useless.

What does it matter why Coffin’s son was killed in an accident?  What does it matter why little Emily, or Jodi, or Steve, are dealing with terrible diseases?  What does it matter why people we love dearly develop cancer, or dementia, or are injured in accidents, or lose their jobs?  Yes, trying to answer the question may offer us some small illusion of control, some minor comfort of understanding intellectually what’s happening, but it doesn’t change the fact that the suffering is happening.

            And so, our Christ suggests, what is needed is for us to move from asking “why?” to asking “what next?”  What is it that needs to be done next to respond to this suffering that is happening?  What is it that needs to be done so that, in Jesus’s words, “we … work the works of the God who sent (Jesus)”?  What are we called to do to help God do God’s work in the painful situation that exists?

            We may never be able to know why our friend’s husband has dementia that is getting worse and worse … but we can do the next thing needed:  we can pray for her, and for him, we can call and let her know we care about her, we can offer to sit with him for a few hours so she can get away for a little while.  We may never be able to know why our friend’s child is desperately ill … but we can do the next thing needed:  again, we can pray for our friend, and the child, and their family, we can take a casserole or some cookies, which are a great blessing when someone is really stressed and exhausted, we can offer to babysit the other kids for a morning or an afternoon.

And we can keep looking – and reminding the sufferers through the loving care we offer them – looking for where God is – because God is – present, still, in the midst of their suffering.  Anna Carter Florence, in her reflections on this passage, says:  “(The Good News in this passage is) that instead of looking for someone to blame, we are wiser to see what God is doing in the situation.  Who sinned?  Who’s at fault?  No-one’s at fault.  No one is the subject here except God, and what God might do (with our help) in this situation[1].”

            And that is where the Pharisees fall short in this story.  Over and over, they look everywhere but at God’s activity in what is happening.  They, too, want to blame the man for his own blindness.  And, because Jesus heals the man on the Sabbath, they call him sinful, and want to blame him, too.  They question the healed man’s truthfulness … they question his parents’ integrity … they criticize the formerly blind man’s faith … and ultimately, they simply refuse to accept that the miracle has occurred.  Which, Jesus points out, is their sin.  Their refusal to see and to acknowledge God at work in the world – their spiritual blindness – is where they fall short.  And it’s where we fall short as well, when we refuse to see God at work in the world, or when we get so wrapped up in blaming – in trying to answer the “why?” and “whose fault is this?” questions – that we are unable to see God at work in the world, much less to help God in that work.

I will close today with one of my favorite stories, which comes from a book by David J. Wolpe called Teaching Your Children About God.

It seems there was a man who once stood before God, his heart utterly breaking from all the pain and injustice in the world.  (Everywhere he looked, he saw people starving, children dying from treatable diseases, people of all ages hideously injured, or killed, by warfare or other violence, immeasurable agony and suffering all across the world.)

He cried out, “Dear God, look at all the suffering, the anguish and distress in your world.  Why don’t you send help?”  And God responded, “I did send help.  I sent you[2].”

            In this Lenten season, we focus partly on Jesus’ suffering – for the world’s sake.  May we also focus on the suffering of our sisters and brothers – and in its face, instead of blaming and asking “why?” may we ask “What’s next?”  And when we perceive the answer, may we respond by remembering, God did send help.  God sent us.  Amen.