I invite you later today to open your Bible and read in one sitting John 9:1 through John 10:21. Read silently, it takes but a few minutes. Read aloud, it would consume a good chunk of our time this morning. To read John 9:1 through John 10:21 is to radically change how we hear the good news of our Jesus story this morning.
In John 9, Jesus encounters a man born blind, a man assumed a sinner because of his disability, a man cast out from community, a man who begged every day for food to eat. In short order and on the Sabbath to boot, Jesus spits on the ground, makes mud, rubs it on the man’s eyes, commands him to wash in the pool of Siloam, and the man sees—for the first time in his life. Then begins a comedy as the neighbors and the Pharisees try to make sense of the man’s sight and the One who granted it. Both the neighbors and the Pharisees question the identity of the man born blind. They question the parents of the man born blind. They question who Jesus is and dismiss the man’s answer: that Jesus is a prophet. They question all that the man says because he does not agree with them. As a result, the neighbors and Pharisees drive out the man born blind; whereas he had always been socially marginalized because of his supposed sin, now he is physically distanced from community, not allowed in the presence of others. When Jesus goes to find the man, Jesus reveals he is the Son of Man who comes to bring sight to the blind and to blind those who see, and the man worships him. The man born blind, ironically, sees, sees who Jesus is. To conclude the comedy, the Pharisees who overhear their exchange ask: Surely, we are not blind, are we?
Jesus continues in the presence of the Pharisees and the man born blind: Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit…I am the gate for the sheep…Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.
Jesus is the gate for the sheep, the One who determines who comes in and goes out, the One who holds the boundaries of the community. The sheep go in and out, in for shelter and out for pasture, and Jesus the gate opens and closes the community to keep safe the sheep and also to grant them freedom. When the man born blind used to sit and beg each day that he might eat, when the people of his community walked past him without seeing him, when he was but an object of pity without a name, the man born blind could not get through the gate of his own community. After he receives his sight and testifies to the One who has granted sight to him, the people of his community literally drive him out. And then, Jesus proclaims the good news: I am the gate. Not the Pharisees, not the neighbors, not even religious tradition that defines right from wrong, that distinguishes sinner from saint. I am the gate, Jesus says, and he swings open for the man born blind.
At this particular moment in our life on this planet, gates or, more literally in the Greek, doors play a vivid role in daily life. When the doorbell rings, before we open the door, we put on a mask. Before we step out of our car and walk across the parking lot to the grocery store, we put on a mask. Before we open the door of our home, wherever we are going, we wash our hands. When we come through the door of a new place, we wash our hands. Right now, closed doors keep us safe.
But we know that doors or gates play a vivid role in our lives not only now but always. Our locked doors stand between us and those who wish to harm us; gated communities allow in only those who belong there. Here in Arizona, we know our southern border as gate. The first poet laureate of Arizona, Alberto Rios, in a poem entitled The Border: A Double Sonnet writes: The border has always been a welcome stopping place but is now a Stop sign, always red…the border is a locked door that has been promoted…the border is mighty, but even the parting of the seas created a path, not a barrier.
Rios, who incidentally, has worshiped here at Grace a few times because of a family connection, grew up in Nogales on the US side of the border. His words paint with startling clarity how Jesus functions as gate. For while we close our borders, our gates, our doors perhaps out of fear for what lies on the other side or because we seek to define community in a particular way, “even the parting of the seas created a path, not a barrier.” Rios captures our biblical imagination when he references the story of Exodus chapter 14. In Exodus, the Israelites have escaped slavery in Egypt but with the Egyptian army on their heels. Through the leadership of Moses, God parts the Red Sea on the shores of which the Israelites stand, and they walk safely through the sea to freedom on the other side. The sea border, in the story of God’s people, becomes not a closed gate or a locked door but a path to freedom.
So too for the man born blind. Instead of a closed gate or a locked door, Jesus swings open the gate to create a path to freedom. Instead of begging every day for food to eat, instead of waiting on the charity of others, instead of perpetually sitting just outside the gate, the man born blind is welcome among God’s people, restored to community, health, and fullness of life. He is welcome to come in and go out, as Jesus spoke of sheep coming in for shelter and going out for pasture.
In this season of Covid-19, we define our boundaries more vividly than ever, personally, at businesses and airports, at churches and schools. Who may enter a particular space and who may not shines with clarity, but we know that most homes, most communities, most nations have long both implicitly and explicitly defined their boundaries—and sometimes for good reasons like health and safety. In the church, the body of Christ, Jesus defines and holds our boundaries. Not me the pastor, not the council, not us the congregation, not the neighbors, not even our religious tradition that defines right from wrong, that supposedly distinguishes sinner from saint. Jesus holds the boundaries of our community. Jesus is the gate and thus the only one who gets to answer the question: who belongs here?
And while I would like to tie up this sermon with a clear and certain answer, I do not believe our Jesus story allows this. All I can say is this: Jesus swings open the gate for the man born blind, and the open gate surprises the Pharisees, the religious leaders. When Jesus answers the question: who belongs here? in our own community, I think we too will be surprised for Jesus sees the world differently than we do. Whoever we are, whatever position we hold, whatever authority we think we possess, the good news that brings us freedom and the challenging truth that surprises us is this: we are not the gate. Jesus is. Thanks be to God! Amen.