Scripture Daily

Context No. 1517 of 4322 · John

Context · Reflection

John 9:18-23: in context

18The Jews therefore didn’t believe concerning him, that he had been blind and had received his sight, until they called the parents of him who had received his sight, 19and asked them, “Is this your son, whom you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” 20His parents answered them, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; 21but how he now sees, we don’t know; or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. He is of age. Ask him. He will speak for himself.” 22His parents said these things because they feared the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that if any man would confess him as Christ, he would be put out of the synagogue. 23Therefore his parents said, “He is of age. Ask him.”

The authorities refuse to believe that the man born blind has truly been healed, and summon his parents to interrogate them. Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How does he now see? The parents confirm that he is their son and was born blind, but on the crucial question they retreat: how he now sees, or who opened his eyes, we do not know; he is of age, ask him, he will speak for himself. The text explains why: they were afraid of the authorities, who had already decided that anyone confessing Jesus as the Christ would be put out of the synagogue.

The parents' evasion is driven by fear of man. They knew the truth, that their son had been born blind and now could see, and they must have had their suspicions about who had done it; but they would not say, because saying it might cost them their place in the synagogue, their standing in the community. So they ducked the question, deflected it onto their son, threw him back to his interrogators rather than risk themselves. He is of age; ask him. It is a small, familiar cowardice, the fear of social or religious consequence that makes us go quiet, evade, deflect, when we should speak. The fear of being excluded, mocked, or diminished in others' eyes has silenced many a confession of the truth. The parents were not asked to do anything heroic, only to acknowledge what they knew; and fear of the synagogue's power made them dodge even that. There is a searching question in it for us. We are often tempted to the same evasion, to stay quiet about what we know to be true, to deflect rather than confess Christ, when speaking might cost us standing, acceptance, or comfort. The parents' fear is understandable, and it is also a warning. The fear of man is a snare; it makes us betray the truth by silence, deflect what we should confess, and hand off to others the stand we should take ourselves. Their son, threatened with far worse, confessed boldly; his parents, fearing exclusion, ducked. The difference between them was the fear of man.

Where has the fear of others' opinion, exclusion, or diminished standing made me go quiet, deflect, or evade when I should have confessed the truth I know, and would I, like these parents, hand off to someone else the stand I am afraid to take myself?

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