The most insane reality ever

Sermon on John 9:1-41

Jesus heals a man born blind. “It’s insane. It’s real.” 

The young man looks around, looks at Jesus. He can see. Wow. For the first time in his life. Just a couple of minutes ago he was a beggar in the streets. A blind man, a nobody in the eyes of his society. And now he can see. Jesus did it. Put mud on his eyes, told him to wash it off. Voilá. What a reason to celebrate, to dance and praise the Lord. 

In reality, people react totally different. They don’t believe it. They simply don’t believe it. They see what’s in front of their eyes and they cannot see it. Because we only see what we believe to be possible. Otherwise our brains find ways to deny the obvious. Just a few weeks ago I didn’t see even the slightest chance of being personally affected by the virus. If someone had told me that we wouldn’t be able to celebrate worship anymore or even meet with friends, I would have told them off. No, such thing doesn’t happen in the Western World. Maybe in other parts of the world but not here. The smarter we are, the more reasons we will find to persuade ourselves, that something is not true, that something isn’t possible. That’s how our brain navigates truth.

 A man born blind cannot be healed. Period. It cannot happen, so it will not happen, so it didn’t happen. A Western highly developed country cannot fall into a crisis due to a tiny virus spreading around. Period.  It cannot happen, so it will not happen.

Isn’t it hilarious how often the healed young man is asked in today’s Gospel, who he is? And what happened? And who did it? The poor man doesn’t have time to celebrate his new vision. He has to explain over and over again. And he sticks to his story. It’s literally always the same. “Jesus put mud on my eyes, he washed it off, now I can see.” That’s it in short. Doesn’t seem too hard to understand. 

I can’t count how often I had to read about the Coronavirus, how often I had to hear the News from around the world, until it finally struck me that this was real. That was just about to become part of my life and my story.

Yet, people find ways to question the story. 

Some say: It’s not him. It’s someone who looks just like him. They basically accuse Jesus of charlatanism, of performing a cheap trick. 

Some say: This is not a bad virus, it’s just like the flu. They basically accuse leaders and doctors around the world of tricking us.

Others say: Ok, Jesus did it. But he had bad intentions. He is a sinner himself who works on a Sabbath. YES, the man can see, but NO, this is not good. It’s not from God.

Others say: Ok, this virus is bad, and we have to fight it. But making us all stay at home reveals bad intentions. People just want to ruin the economy or rule the country and pass laws in a glimpse.

The man who was healed is the only one who knows and who constantly proclaims the truth. “Jesus saved me. Jesus is a prophet. Jesus is a man of God. Jesus is the Lord.” The only one who believes him is Jesus. 

“It’s insane. It’s real.” 

A young man walks by me, keeps his distance, talks on the phone. “It’s insane. It’s real.”  I listen while laying on my new favorite rock at the Berkeley Marina. It’s my kids and my new favorite spot to spend our afternoons at when everything else is closed. There are lots of stones to climb on for the kids. Both of them call one place their home there. Theo found a car and a slide and in his stone yard he dedicated one rock to me. “Mom, you can lay down here and read.” It’s become a place of quietness and peace for us. Where we watch the clouds and observe coots and learn about falling and rising tides. Things we usually don’t see during our busy weeks. And now there is nothing else to do so we get to see what we love to see but forgot that we did.

While laying or sitting on my rock, I can’t help but listen to the people passing by in some distance. 9 out of 10 talk about the current situation. One man repeatedly says “It’s insane. It’s real.” I am pretty sure he is talking about the current crisis, the shelter-in-place, all the new regulations and limitations. “It’s insane. It’s real.” 

Looking back to just 2 weeks ago, I was pretty blind. I remember saying after my first worship service with you all, that I was not afraid of the virus. I remember shaking hands and even giving 1 or 2 hugs. I somehow really believed, that this would not truly affect us, that this would pass. The world could not be stopped from doing our every-day business. The economy could not just be put on hold. Period. It cannot happen, so it will not happen. 

And then it happened. The world has changed. Last Sunday we were still able to broadcast our worship service from Carlson Hall. Now, all of us are in our homes. At the same time it’s wonderful that we are still able to connect and see each other. Who would have thought that we, the people of Christ the King, would become that techy in no-time.

I was blind. I thought that my life would go on like this forever. That I could plan my life at least 6 months in advance. And then, Jesus put mud on my eyes. Lots of mud. So much mud that I really will need some time to wash it off and to see again clearly. Change can be overwhelming. 

Right now, everything seems so urgent, so muddy. No time to calm down. Yes, it’s insane. And it’s real.

In the Gospel some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.”

This is how I feel about church these days. Not only about Christ the King, but in general. Who are we now without meeting in person? Are we still the same church? Where will this unknown mud lead us to? What do we need healing from as a church? 

I refuse to say that church is closed. We are not closed. Our buildings are closed. But we are well and alive, serving our community and the world. Because honestly, to the world it doesn’t make a difference, whether we pray altogether in one room or whether we pray individually in our homes. What matters is that we wrap the world with prayer. While the virus spreads, let’s spread prayers. Today, the International Union of Superiors General, an organization of catholic women, calls us all to prayer and solidarity. 

Let’s spread prayers. Let’s spread hope. Let’s spread vision. What matters is that we are messengers of Christ. That we care for the weak and be it in staying home. That we support our communities by ordering from restaurants that we would like to still have around when this is over. That we patronize theaters and artists to help them survive. What matters is that we keep dreaming the dream of how the world could be. 

And I feel like it’s already starting. So many signs of solidarity pop up right now. One young man offers a “handwashing station” at a Bart station. High-schoolers offer free childcare for people who can’t work from home. One neighbor brought me home-made hand-sanitizer. So many great online resources are available for free now for kids. One neighbor just invited me to do Yoga with her to relax body and mind. Of course, we will meet via Zoom. But still. I feel like the less we can spend time with each other the more we long to. Maybe, we can keep some of this in mind when we will go back to normal. Maybe this solidarity could become the new normal?

For us at Christ the King I talked to Barbara about a phone-tree to make sure we check-in regularly on each other. While some of us live with a partner other are alone at home. Let’s make sure we don’t forget anyone over our own fears. Plus: Spreading hope has a great side-effect: It gives you hope as well. 

Who else should take on this job right now of spreading hope and prayers around the world, but us, who we believe what Jesus says in today’s Gospel: “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” It’s totally insane. It’s real. Amen.