There once was a man . . . a man blind from birth . . . who spent
his days sitting alongside the road to Jerusalem . He had done nothing to cause his infirmary but
he was sightless, even so.
One day he heard the approach of many feet. Based on the party’s conversation he soon deduced
that the group was a rabbi with his followers trailing behind. He was surprised to hear that they were
speaking of him to their leader.
The banter halted and the blind man was taken aback by the abrupt
hawking and spitting into the dirt by the rabbi, who was closest to him. He was further confused by scraping sounds in
the dust near where he sat. Without warning, seemingly out of nowhere, a thumb pressed hard against
his unblinking eyeball coating with a moist earthy smelling paste. He attempted to fend off the attacker when, again,
a thumb pressed hard against his other eyeball, covering that one with muck, as
well.
He felt his eyes, to feel what was there. "It's mud," the man exclaimed. "You've put mud in my eyes!"
The
gentle voice of the rabbi instructed him to go and wash it out in a nearby
pool.
Understanding
came to the sightless man. He had heard
tell of healers using mud as a poultice to restore to health to the infirmed.
He
made his way to the pool and as the mud washed away so did his blindness.
The blind man who now could see became a follower of the rabbi . . . whose name just so happened to be
Jesus.
The
Gospel according to John – Chapter 9
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