Biblical Essays
THE BLIND MAN AND THE PHARISEES WHO SAID “WE SEE”
The moral effect of the mission of Christ is strikingly presented in the 9th chapter of John. Consider verse 39: “And Jesus said, For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not might see; and that they which see might be made blind.” The work that He had just performed on the blind man may be regarded as a beautiful illustration of this statement, because it was an illustration of the work of the Cross. The remedy applied to the blind man was one the human judgment would at once pronounce to likely deprive a man of sight. “He spat on the ground, and made clay of the spittle, and He anointed the eyes of the blind man with the clay.” This mode of acting was well calculated to confound human wisdom, and hence it naturally leads one to contemplate the great work of the Cross, in which we may behold the entire overthrow of man’s wisdom, and the full establishment of the wisdom of God on its ruins. That a man crucified in weakness should be God’s great ordinance of salvation to the believing soul; that this same man should, by death, destroy him that had the power of death; that He should, by being nailed to an accursed tree, become the foundation of eternal life to His church – all this involves a display of wisdom that, while it opens the eyes of poor blind sinners and pours in the light of heavenly wisdom on our dark understanding, only dazzles and confounds the learned and the wise of this world. “The foolishness of God is wiser than man.”
But where are we to look for a manifestation of this “foolishness,” which at once excels and confounds the wisdom of man? To the Cross. “The preaching of the Cross is to the Greek foolishness.” The proud sages of Greece, wrapped up in their schemes of philosophy, were not prepared to understand or appreciate the preaching of the Cross, which called on them to come down from their heights of fancied wisdom – to lay aside their philosophy as a vain and cumbrous mass of folly, and, as “poor and miserable and blind and naked” sinners, take themselves to Him who had been nailed to the tree between two malefactors.
Again, “the preaching of the Cross is to the Jew, a stumbling-block.” The Jew would despise or stumble over the Cross, just as much as the Greek, though he looked at it from a totally different point of view. The Greek looked at the doctrine of the Cross from the fancied elevation of “science falsely so called.” The Jew looked at it from amid the dark and bewildering mists of a traditional religion. In both we behold the blinding power of the god of this age. Both were moving in a sphere that opposed “Christ crucified” as its center.
In this chapter of John, the Lord Jesus expressly tells the Pharisees that their sin was not their real blindness, but their fancied sight. “If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth.” A blind man could have his eyes opened; but for one who professed to see, no remedy was needed. A sick man may be made whole, but one who professes to be whole needs neither balm nor physician. The most hopeless feature in the condition of the Jews was imagining that all was right. So far had they gone in their fancied soundness and rectitude, that they “had agreed already that if any man did confess that He [Jesus] was Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue” (emphasis added). It was not that they had taken the trouble of investigating the claims of that blessed One who stood in their midst. No; without question they had made up their minds that no confessor of Christ should remain within the pale of their church. How could they learn? What hope was left for men, who, when called on to look at an object and accept its merits, would rise up and in blind obstinacy close the window or put a bandage across their eyes? None whatsoever – “Now ye say, We see; therefore your sin remaineth.” This is truly solemn. The permanence of sin is connected with a mere profession to see. What a principle for an age of religious knowledge.
Let us trace the progress of an honest soul in the person of the blind man, on whom the light of heaven had dawned.
From the moment this man became the subject of Christ’s work, he was a marked man. “The neighbours therefore, and they which before had seen him that he was blind, said, Is not this he that sat and begged?” The marked change that had taken place was manifest to all who had known about his previous state. It was an important case, and one that needed to be submitted to the judgment of the church. “They brought to the Pharisees him that aforetime was blind.” Nothing could be accredited without the church’s stamp of approval. If the matter did meet approval of the Pharisees, it mattered not that a blind man had his eyes opened to see the light of heaven. Notice how the Pharisees deal with the case. We feel assured, they were ready to bear with most anything except a clear, simple, emphatic testimony to the work of Christ; but this was the very thing that the man was about to lay before them. “How were thine eyes opened?” Mark the reply, “He put clay on mine eyes.” How little the Pharisees knew or cared to know of this – no doubt, they regarded the matter as an insult to common sense., in its way it certainly was “a stone of stumbling” to them.
But who did the man mean by “He?” Who was “He?” This was the point. Though he was on the highway to intelligence about it, the poor man was ignorant of this himself. He knew the work, but not the Person of Christ. Yet, he was how highly distinguished in being led to a knowledge of the work of Christ; yea, in being the subject of it himself – the true way in which to arrive at a knowledge of it. When not accompanied with the personal experience of its efficacy, intellectual accuracy regarding the plan of salvation is a cold and uninfluential thing. We will never be able to confound the logic of those who persist in standing in defense of systematic religion, apart from or in opposition to Christ. We must be able to show in our own person, character, and ways the practical results of the work of Christ, or else all our accuracy will be of little worth. “He put clay on mine eyes, and I washed, and do see.” Here was the presentation of a living fact that was calculated to bear down with greater weight than all the arguments that could be used on a Pharisee’s conscience. What could gainsay it? Men might reason as they pleased; even talk about giving glory to God; but this man could prove in his own person that the work of Christ had done something for him that with its priesthood and rites, the Jewish system never could. This was enough for him, and it would have been enough, too, for any who were not blinded by the power of system.
But observe how the heart of this poor man lingers about the work of Jesus. He never allows himself to be drawn away from it in order to follow the puzzling arguments of the Pharisees. To all their questions and reasons his reply is, “He put clay on mine eyes, and I washed and do see.” This was his solid ground, from which no logic could shake him. He kept to the simple fact of Christ’s work and reasoned not on it – this was his security. Had he reasoned on it, they would have confounded him, because they were subtle men. But they could make nothing of his simple testimony to the fact of what Christ had done for him. “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.” The connection between the two statements is notable. “He put clay on mine eyes,” and “now I see.” When we are able to connect the work of Christ with positive results in our own case, the testimony is irresistible; however, there is a feebleness and shallowness in the testimony of those who merely intellectually apprehend the Gospel in theory. One not being connected with positive results in character and conduct is soon brought down by the enemies of truth. This is perceptible in the case of the parents of the man. When questioned, they delivered a cold testimony in the matter. As far as their son and his wretchedness were concerned, they could speak distinctly enough, “but by what means he now seeth, we know not; or who hath opened his eyes, we know not.” In other words, they neither knew nor cared to know Christ or His work. They valued their position in connection with the accredited religion of the day, and were not prepared to bear the reproach of throwing in their lot with Christ and His followers. This is far too common today. For a man to be enabled to “go without the camp” to Jesus requires an above average depth of truth in the soul. It must be a personal question. The Grace of God, as manifested in the cross, must be experimentally known, or else we will never be able to witness a good confession. The name of Jesus never was, nor is it now, popular in the world. Religiousness may be, and doubtless will – but religiousness is one thing, and faithful confession of Christ is quite another. The Pharisees and chief priests had plenty of religion; they were its guardians. They could say, “This man is not of God, because he keepeth not the Sabbath-day;” and again, “Give God the praise; we know that this man is a sinner.” All this sounded very religious; but, we must always bear in mind that to talk of giving glory to God or of honoring His institutions, while Jesus is rejected, is delusion.
Jesus is God’s great institution, and the cross of Jesus is that which makes His Person and work available to the sinner; hence, if He be rejected, we are destitute of the only true and divinely recognized basis of religion. One divine thought about God’s anointed Savior is far better than all the devout expressions of fleshy pietism. Where Jesus is known, the heart is prepared to suffer for His name, and there is a true desire to be identified with Him, and conformed to Him. But the parents of the man did not have this preparedness of heart, and hence their testimony was characterized by so-called prudent caution that is always observable in worldly religionists. “These words spake his parents, because they feared the Jews; for the Jews had agreed already, that if any man did confess that he was Christ, he should be put out of the synagogue.” This was a serious situation. Of course, the Jewish system had a large place in the affections of every pious Jew, and one would not lightly give up his position as a member of it; still less would he think of attaching himself to the person of one who was manifestly outside of that which the world deemed reputable or desirable.
However, the man whose eyes were opened, “Could not but speak the thing he had seen and heard,” and what was the consequence? The religious guides of the people could not endure the edge of his simple testimony; a testimony based throughout on the work of Christ. He had received light, and this light had come into collision with darkness. There could be no harmony, no fellowship, and no rest. The light must be put out. As long as he had been a blind member of their system, there was no problem. They never raised a question; but since he had received light, and was not disposed to put it under a bushel, or to put his conscience into their keeping, they sought to get rid of him as best they could. “Thou wast altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us? And they cast him out.” They were the great depositaries of knowledge, and he was just a poor ignorant man, and should not presume to think for himself, or set up his judgment in opposition to them. No doubt, they regarded him as an obstinate heretic, for whom nothing was reserved save the thunders of the church. “They cast him out” – because his eyes had been opened. How strange. But yet how like what we see today. In this age, we often see cases like this. Men go on living in vice and ignorance, yet tolerated by human religion; but the moment the holy light of Scripture dawns on them, they are deemed fit subjects only for the rack and stake. In the judgment of a corrupt religious system, the vilest crimes are light when compared with the honest confession of the name of Christ.
We have already noticed the extent of this honest man’s intelligence – to the work of Christ. As yet, he understood nothing of our Lord’s Person. This knowledge was reserved for him when cast out of the synagogue. “Jesus heard that they had cast him out; and when he had found him, he said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God? He answered, Who is He, Lord, that I might believe on Him?”
There is something very instructive in this intelligence progress. By reason of his faithfulness, he had been cast into a position of decided sympathy with the Son of God.
In tender mercy, the Good Shepherd had visited the fold and was now calling His sheep by name, that He might lead him into a wide and wealthy place, wherein he might taste the blessedness of fellowship with that “one flock” that was about to be placed forever in the Father’s Land. “Who is He?” Precious inquiry of an honest heart; an inquiry speedily answered – “Thou hast both seen Him, and it is He that talketh with thee. And he said, Lord, I believe, and he worshipped Him.” Here we may well leave this highly-favored soul – yes, favored; though expelled from amid all that was highly esteemed among men. It was truly happy for him to find himself outside a system that was rapidly crumbling to ruin, and to find his place as a worshipper at the feet of the Son of God. He had gone without the camp to Jesus, bearing His reproach, and is now seen offering the sacrifice of praise, even the fruit of his lips.
May we know and prove in our own persons the practical application of all this.
