[Dialogue] Spong on healing miracles and religious abuse

[KroegerD at aol.com]

November 29, 2006 
Miracles V: Did a Blind Man  From Bethsaida Really Receive His Sight?  
In the fourth installment of my fall series on the miracles of the New  
Testament, I suggested that the healing miracles attributed to Jesus in the  
gospels might have originally been composed not to be tales of supernatural  power 
at all. They served rather to demonstrate signs of the in-breaking of  God’s 
kingdom attached to Jesus after his life had ended, when people began to  
understand him as “the one who would come,” “the expected one,” or “the promised  
messiah.” For evidence of this, I pointed to a story told only in Matthew and  
Luke where John the Baptist, in prison, sent messengers asking Jesus: “Are 
you  the one who is to come or do we look to another?” Jesus told these 
messengers to  tell John that all the signs the prophet Isaiah said would accompany 
the arrival  of the Kingdom of God were present now in his life: the blind see, 
the deaf  hear, the lame walk and the mute sing. In that episode, these signs 
were not  descriptions of events that actually happened; they represented, 
rather,  language being used to interpret Jesus as messiah. I concluded that 
column by  saying that if that were a true reading of this story, as I believe it 
is, then  two conclusions would follow. First, for far too long, we have been 
reading the  gospels as literal books, when that was not what their original 
authors  intended. Second, clues should be present in these miracle stories 
themselves  that would make their original meaning obvious. I promised to 
demonstrate what I  meant by that by looking next at the various ‘sight to the blind’
 stories where  the accuracy of this proposed reconstruction should be 
visible. So let me now  begin to bring into focus the gospel stories in which sight 
is restored to one  who was blind and see if there is a dramatically different 
way to view them.  
When all the relevant biblical narratives that portray Jesus as giving sight  
to the blind are isolated, it appears that there are six distinct stories in 
the  gospels. Two are in Mark (8:22-26 and 10:46-52), two in Matthew (9:27-31 
and  20:29-34), one in Luke (8:35-43) and one in John (9:1-41). Since we know, 
 however, that both Matthew and Luke had Mark before them when they wrote, it 
is  interesting to note that all of the ‘sight to the blind’ stories in both 
gospels  appear to be nothing more than variations of Mark’s second story. To 
complete  this narrowing process, the single ‘sight to the blind’ story in 
John appears to  be based substantially on Mark’s first story. So, in reality 
the six stories can  be reduced to only two.  
To be fair there are other generic references to the miraculous recovering of 
 sight on the part of those who were blind in the gospels of Matthew (15:31 
and  21:14, 15) and Luke (7:21), but they contain no narrative content. So we 
note  that while the claim of restoring sight to the blind is regularly made 
for  Jesus, a careful study of the gospels reveals that only the two narratives 
in  Mark appear to be the source of this claim. Everything else is a variation 
on  one of these two stories. The first thing we need to embrace is, 
therefore, that  very little data actually stands behind this dramatic claim. In this 
column and  the next one in this series, I will search within these two primal 
stories from  Mark for illumining clues.  
I begin that task with a detailed scrutiny of the account of the healing of  
the blind man from Bethsaida. (Mark 8:22-26). It is filled with hidden 
messages  and enigmatic words. An unnamed blind man from Bethsaida is brought to 
Jesus  begging for his sight. Jesus takes the blind man by the hand and leads him 
out  of the village of Bethsaida. Then, we are told, Jesus spat on the blind 
man’s  eyes and “laid his hands upon him.” Jesus asked him: “Do you see 
anything?” The  blind man responds by looking up and saying, “I see men but they 
look like trees  walking.” Once more, Jesus lays his hands on this man’s eyes. 
This time we are  told that it was only when there was an intense stare 
between Jesus and the  blind man that his sight was restored and he saw everything 
clearly.” The story  ends with Jesus sending the newly cured man directly 
home.  
What is the meaning of this strange tale? Why is the healing something that  
takes place in stages? What does “looking intently,” mean? Perhaps the clue 
to  understanding this story is found in the next immediate episode in Mark’s 
text  (8:27-33). Most people hear the Bible read in church only in brief 
segments with  no attention paid to its context. Yet following this restoration of 
sight story  is the account of Peter’s confession at a place called Caesarea 
Philippi, in  which Jesus asks his disciples this question: “Who do people say 
that I am?” The  disciples respond with a variety of possibilities. You are 
John the Baptist  returned from the dead. You are Elijah. You are one of the 
prophets. Jesus then  was portrayed as probing deeper into each disciple with his 
next question: “But  who do you say that I am?” That was when Peter blurted 
out in his typical and  aggressive style: “You are the Christ, the maschiach 
(the messiah).” It was a  title that for the Jews was filled with a variety of 
images. Mark portrays Jesus  as accepting that answer and imploring them not to 
tell anyone until the final  events in his life occurred. One can hear in 
this narrative, echoes of previous  discussions and debates about Jesus that 
surely go back to the oral period of  Christian history, that is the time after 
his crucifixion in 30 C.E. on one side  and the writing of the gospels some 
40-70 years later on the other. There were  two prongs to this debate. First, 
there was the conviction that Jesus was the  messiah, for which they cited all the 
signs. On the other side there was the  indisputable reality that Jesus had 
been killed, a fact that seemed to  invalidate all messianic claims. For the 
Jews the messiah was to come in  vindicating triumph. It was the destiny of the 
messiah to be victorious not to  die. How can Jesus be the messiah and also be 
the crucified one? That was the  debate. Peter has the first half right. You 
are the Christ, the messiah. I’m  sure this Caesarea-Philippi story is written 
as if Peter expected some kind of  emotional applause for his insight.  
Jesus, however, is portrayed not as rejecting that designation, but as  
seeking to expand the meaning of messiah until it embraced the things that had  in 
fact already happened to him. So Jesus is portrayed as explaining to the  
disciples what kind of messiah he was called to be, lest they misunderstand the  
reality of his death. That is the moment in which Mark proceeds to put on Jesus’
  lips the first prediction of the passion (v.31). He will repeat this two 
more  times (see Mark 9:30-32 and 10:33, 34) to make sure that his disciples kne
w that  Jesus had understood his destiny. “The Son of Man,” said Jesus, using 
the  popular New Testament image of messiah, drawn from the book of Daniel 
that had  added many supernatural connotations to that word, “is not coming in 
triumph.”  Rather, “he must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, 
the chief  priest and the scribes, be killed and after three days rise again.” 
In these  words, Jesus was made both to challenge and to redefine the popular 
messianic  expectations.  
Mark’s narrative implies that this redefinition was more than Peter could  
embrace. Clinging to the popular notion of the victorious messiah, Peter was  
said to take Jesus “and to rebuke him.” Jesus, however, turned and challenged  
Peter severely, calling him “Satan,” and saying, “You are not on the side of 
God  but of men.”  
I believe the clue to understanding the juxtaposition of these two stories is 
 that to both the blind man and to Peter sight comes through stages. The 
theme of  Peter’s internal struggle to understand Jesus expressed at Caesarea 
Philippi  will be repeated in the next chapter in Mark’s narrative of the 
transfiguration.  There we are told that Peter had a vision of Jesus talking with 
Moses and Elijah  on top of a mountain. In this mountain-top experience, Peter 
suggests the  erection of three tabernacles, one for each of these participants. 
He is rebuked  by the heavenly voice speaking out of the cloud, which states 
that Jesus is not  to be regarded as one of three Jewish heroes, but as the one 
in whom both Moses  and Elijah find their fulfillment.  
Surely we recognize that all “after the fact predictions of things to come”  
are never history. Mark’s gospel was written some 40 years after the  
crucifixion. Predicting the future is quite easy if you have already lived it,  but 
are writing it as if it is still to come. The purpose of this narrative was  to 
suggest once again that Peter came to his understanding of Jesus slowly like  
the blind man came to sight over a period of time. When we add to this  
interpretative process a little noticed fact from the Fourth Gospel informing us  
that Peter came from the town of Bethsaida, the pieces begin to click together. 
 The story of the blind man from Bethsaida was originally a story, perhaps a  
parable, about Peter’s conversion.  
There is still one further connection. In this episode about the blind man  
from Bethsaida, Mark says that sight came only when Jesus stared at him  
intently. In Luke’s account of Peter’s denial of Jesus during the crucifixion,  
Jesus and Peter are pictured as staring intently at each other. Luke’s exact  
words are: “The Lord turned and looked at Peter.” That intense stare, which Mark 
 says gave the blind man from Bethsaida his sight, is also portrayed later as 
 giving Peter, another blind man from Bethsaida his sight. It took Peter some 
 time to understand that messiah means giving yourself away even to those who 
 will kill you. For if the nature of love is to be self-giving, then the 
nature  of divine love must be totally self-giving.  
Our first conclusion then is that Mark’s story about a blind man receiving  
his sight is not a miracle story at all, but a description of the process of  
bringing Peter’s blindness about who Jesus was into his ability to see. This  “
healing story” is thus about developing eyes that can see beneath the surface 
 to truth. It is not about sight but about insight or second sight. Suddenly, 
 what we once called a miracle story begins to open us to a very different  
meaning.  
John Shelby Spong  
_Note from  the Editor: Bishop Spong's new book is available now at 
bookstores everywhere  and by clicking here!_ 
(http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0060762055/agoramedia-20)   
Question and Answer
With John  Shelby Spong 
Carolyn Stephens writes:  
I would very much like to hear your comments on “religious abuse”  
particularly as it concerns fundamentalism, especially within a family. I am  closely 
connected with a family where the father of two teenage daughters has  them “
brain-washed” into believing that he speaks for God and that God speaks  through 
him. He has for all practical purposes separated them from the world,  using 
home schooling as a way of keeping them from being involved in the “evil  
world.” To my knowledge, there is no physical abuse in the family setting but  
there is certainly emotional abuse. The girls are frightened of their father  
because to displease him is to displease God.  
There is a book (older – published in 1991) on the subject: “When God 
becomes  a Drug” by Father Leo Booth that has been helpful to me. Can you recommend  
anything more current on the subject?  
Dear Carolyn,  
Your letter on the surface points to a deep pathology that has religious  
overtones. However, it is dangerous to prescribe for sickness based on second  
hand data. Unfortunately, if what you say is true, they will not respond to  
intervention because anyone who intervened would be working for the devil. Our  
society gives wide berth to obvious pathology when it is covered by religious  
language. If you could read my mail, you would see countless numbers of 
letters  from people like the two teenage daughters to which you refer, who tell me 
of  similar abuse and how they managed to escape it. Those who don’t escape it 
 become mental patients themselves or repeat the abuse in another generation. 
 
The signs of pathology are the identification between the authority figure  
(the father) and God so that by disagreeing with or disobeying the authority  
figure is regarded as being identical to disagreeing with or disobeying God.  
The idea that only the parent can teach the child and abandoning the public  
education system is normally the sign of a deeply threatened, controlling  
personality. Parents who control their children through fear are also deeply  
disturbed people.  
Since I do not see this as a religious problem but as a psychological  
problem, I think you should read in qualified psychological books and journals  
under the subject of Religion as Pathology. Leo Booth’s book is a good  beginning; 
perhaps his bibliography will give you more clues.  
My best,  
John Shelby Spong 
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