As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who was blind from birth. Jesus’ disciples asked, “Rabbi, who sinned so that he was born blind, this man or his parents?”
Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents. This happened so that God’s mighty works might be displayed in him. While it’s daytime, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”
In my time as a hospital chaplain, I remember a middle-aged patient diagnosed with the same terminal cancer that had killed his father. Adding to the weight of his own fear and pain, some terrible “friends” from his faith community told him that this was the consequence of generational sin. His grand father must have done something so bad that fatal cancer was passed down through the family. He told me this because he hoped, somewhere behind my clergy collar, I might have a word of comfort from the Lord that told a different story. We read the story of John 9 together, and at the very least, he took comfort in the voice of Christ challenging the voices that told him he deserved his suffering.
I have born witness to so many bitter and beautiful stories of pain and suffering, with friends, loved ones, and parishioners struggling to find meaning in the midst of physical and mental struggles. The words of Christ in John 9:3 may be comforting to some and disturbing to others. While there is comfort in knowing that one’s disability is not some deserved punishment for sin, we may be uncomfortable with any universal application of the idea that the purpose behind the disability is to bring God glory.
For instance, I would never jump to proclaim to the bereaved parent that her son’s car accident left him paraplegic for the glory of God. Nor would I tell the manic bipolar student to take heart because God is glorified in her uncontrollable rage. This misses the pastoral heart of Jesus in the moment and demeans the lived reality of the suffering ones. The truth is, Jesus is not going to miraculously give sight to every blind person, and most of us do not experience the sudden, unexplainable reversal of disability or suffering. The patient at the beginning of my story still died from his cancer. So what comfort is there in John 9?
Growing work in Disability Theology informs our understanding of God’s glory on display in all bodies. When Jesus says of the disabled one, “This happened so that God’s mighty works might be displayed in him,” he challenges our assumptions of what God’s glory looks like to begin with. Disabled bodies challenge our assumptions of what is “normal” human experience, and reveal that the image of God is still fully displayed in each person regardless of their mental or physical abilities. Advances in science have helped us understand that things like autism and homosexuality are not mental illnesses to be cured, but different ways of experiencing the world, and therefore, different ways of expressing the good image of God in each person.
This week’s comic features one of Marvel’s best superheroes: Daredevil, the blind lawyer who fights crime at night. It also features Gen-Z lingo cuz I want to keep my audience hip with the kids and whatnot.