"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, '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 9:1-5]
I'd like to submit this conversation into evidence for why good theology [and bad theology] matters. I know that in this day and age it is easy to dismiss theology as either fanciful nonsense or intellectual ivory tower stuff that doesn't connect at all with real life, but a scene like this makes it clear that the things we think about God [and humanity, creation, and life] have the power either to build up or destroy, to help us grow in humility and love or to become permission for arrogance or hate.
When I was a high school student and friends or classmates found out I was discerning a call into ministry, the running joke was that I would grow up and work in a "religion factory"--the gist of their joke being that studying religion or theology was a useless and impractical pursuit because there is no such thing as a factory where you can get hired to build "religion." And in that sense, they were right. But the more I pay attention to the ways folks use--and quite often mis-use--their thinking about God to determine the ways they treat other people, the more I wish that all of us spent more time critically thinking through what we believe about God and why... because the consequences are profound.
This opening scene from the story many of us heard this past Sunday is a case in point. Upon crossing paths with man who had been reduced to panhandling for food and spare change, who was also born blind, Jesus' disciples immediately go into armchair-theologian mode and pose a loaded question to Jesus. "Rabbi, who sinned, that this man was born blind?" And notice: these are Jesus' own hand-picked disciples; this is not a case of the Respectable Religious Leaders setting Jesus up with a trap question, as they sometimes do. This is not someone trying to trip Jesus up with a "gotcha" question. These are Jesus' own students and followers, who have been with Jesus for some time already, and who still are convinced that this is how God operates in the world.
Right off the bat they have made assumptions about what is going on here. They were doing theology [badly] and didn't even realize how those assumptions got their question off on the wrong footing from the beginning. They have offered Jesus two options, and both are wrong. Their assumption is that the condition of being born blind is a punishment from God [already wrong on so many levels], and that therefore the only question left to ask is whose sin this is punishment for. Did he somehow sin in utero, or did God possibly punish people in advance of sins they would commit? Did his parents sin, and thereby pass along wrath to their children? These are the options they present Jesus with, not even considering that hey, what if blindness isn't a punishment, and what if God is not in the business of zapping people with maladies every time they mess up?
The thing that gets me about this whole opening scene is that the disciples don't even realize how much baggage they are bringing to the situation. They don't realize how much they are unquestioningly assuming when they frame their question. They have already decided in a sense how God operates in the world--and thereby they have set themselves up to look down on some people as divinely-judged sinners, simply by the way they have set the question up. Even before Jesus gets a word in, the disciples have taken their theological starting point--namely, that physical disability is invariably a sign of God's judgment for specific sins--and let it filter their view of reality. Their starting point about God means any time they see someone with some severe physiological condition, they'll assume this is a punishment from God. And conversely, they'll see anyone who is not affected by a medical condition as marginally better or more righteous; after all, at least they're not being punished with an illness, right? And of course, presuming that most of the time these disciples are themselves in pretty good health, that conveniently allows them to cast themselves, not just as "good," but as "better" than others they cross paths with. The disciples may not realize they are doing it, but their own theological assumptions are teaching them arrogance that sees themselves as better and other people as inherently less-than.
Now, I would hope it is obvious that Jesus shuts down all of this thinking. He rules out that God is to be found in this situation as the judge handing out a sentence for sin, but rather that if you're going to find God here, it will be in the healing of this man and the doing of good. [This is kind of like the old line of Mr. Rogers that when tragedy happens, we look for "the helpers" who are repairing and restoring.] Jesus isn't just giving the disciples an answer for this specific man in front of them, but he is pulling apart their whole theology to get out the poorly laid foundation they have built it on. Jesus tears down the disciples' bad theology that unwittingly taught them to see others as "less than" and instead insists that God is to be found in mending rather than in zapping. Their assumptions about God are not only incorrect; they are also bending the disciples' hearts and lives toward arrogance rather than in the direction of love. Our theology always shapes the kind of people we are becoming. And while nobody is saved by their theology [or damned by their bad theology], God does care about the kind of people we are becoming. God's love not only forgives us and claims us, but also reshapes us and forms us in the likeness of that love. So bad theology matters, because it has a way of giving us permission to hate some people, or to shrug off other people in apathy, or to see others as inherently less worthy of care and dignity. And that matters to Jesus, because those people matter to Jesus.
Today, it is worth looking more closely at our own assumptions about God and where they come from, and to see how our theology sometimes leads us away from love and into arrogance. Where that is happening, maybe it's time to let the living Jesus start pulling down the structures, worldviews, and thought-patterns we've built on top of shoddy foundations, so that he can build us anew in the likeness of his love and goodness.
Lord Jesus, give us the courage to let you help us re-examine what we think, what we believe, and what we unquestioningly assume, so that we see the world through your eyes rather than our own filters.
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