Two things about Jesus’ healing of a man who was born blind fascinate me. The first is how grounded in his own acceptance of Reality the man seems to be. He does not (apparently) beg desperately to be healed, and doesn’t jump for joy once he is. He can’t be intimated by the threats and accusations of those who have power over him, and once he’s presented with evidence that Jesus is the Son of Man, he accepts it as matter-of-factly as he might accept that two plus two equals four.
It was a pleasure to write lines for him and to imagine his meeting with what might have been the only soul in his world more advanced than his, the only voice that could have called him to take a step beyond his comfort zone.
The other thing that fascinates me about this story is the simple line, “and he worshiped him.” Wow! What did it entail, exactly? Did the man fall onto his knees? Break out in song? Sacrifice a ox? Whatever it was, I like to think it can’t have been easy for a man as self-sufficient as him.