Knowing What You Know
They said to the man who had been blind, “We know this man [Jesus] is a sinner.” He answered, “I don’t know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” – John 9:24-25, excerpted (NRSV)
A blind seminarian once announced in class that if Jesus offered her sight, she’d refuse. Her classmates erupted. Unfazed, she told them that being blind has upsides. Like what? they demanded. For one thing, she said, she’d never judged a book by its cover. They kept insisting she’d be better off sighted. But she knew what she knew. There were worse things than being blind. Like what? they demanded again. Like getting worked over by a bunch of know-it-all seminarians, she replied.
The man born blind got worked over by a bunch of know-it-all theologians. The first thing he saw after receiving his sight was disapproval. The first thing he learned was that sensible people know what can’t be true and feel duty-bound to unburden you of your own experience. But he knew what he knew.
Like the pastor who was grilling salmon when Christ spoke to him, changing his life. When he told the deacons about it, they reminded him that he was a Congregationalist and offered him counseling and paid leave. When he declined, they asked him not to talk about it. But he knew what he knew.
Faith has many facets. Here’s one: it’s a way of knowing, an instinct for God that recognizes God’s behaviors, even when God is unorthodox. It’s loyalty to the experience of grace, stubborn candor that won’t exchange mercy’s weight for a safer life. It’s bearing that burden in the world like a target. And a light.
Prayer
Gracious One, in the face of all that simply cannot be true, let me be true to the reality of your grace, stubbornly witnessing to the one thing I know.
About the AuthorMary Luti is a long time seminary educator and pastor, author of Teresa of Avila’s Way and numerous articles, and founding member of The Daughters of Abraham, a national network of interfaith women’s book groups.