The gradual healing of the blind man.
In each of the many cases of healing there were, doubtless, peculiarities of incident of great interest to the healed, if not to us. But of only a few have we the details. Perhaps where we have them they have their more important relation to us than to the subjects of the healing themselves. In this case, as in others, the compassion of friends is called into play. "They bring to him a blind man, and beseech him to touch him." Not without service to us all is this little feature preserved. How may we who have proved his power to heal learn here the duty, the propriety, the encouragement to bring to Jesus, by kindly, leading hands, those who see not their way to him. Gently Jesus took the hand of the blind man in his, and led him away from the crowd, "out of the village"—itself a judgment to this Bethsaida. But oh, how beauteous a picture—Jesus leading the blind! This is itself a homily. Singular to us appear the actions of Christ, both here and elsewhere. But why did he "spit on his eyes"? That he should work gradually and through the medium of outward signs was very becoming, if only to identify himself with the miracle. But who shall tell the thoughts they stirred in the hearts of the healed, for every one of whom Jesus cared! There was no need of spittle even to loosen the gummed eyelids, though such loosening may have been necessary, and needed no wasting of power by the doing it miraculously. Nor was there any absolute need of the touch of the hand; no, nor even at any time of the word. His will was enough. But he who chose to use his word or his touch or his breath here identifies himself with the miracle by the spittle. The progressive character of the work stands in contrast to the somewhat hasty "touch him." As there is no mention of faith (so generally commended where found) on the part of the blind man, it may have been but small, if there were any. Perhaps this may afford some reason why the healing was not instantaneous. It may have responded to the growing faith of the recipient—a seeing far more important even than beholding men and trees. Would no virtue come from the touch of that leading hand? Were no words spoken to awaken faith? Was there a Lydian spirit in the man "whose" eyes "the Lord' so gently "opened"? We may not know. But to us the miracle is a type of many healings in our suffering, blind world, where faith and hope have need to be roused into activity by some measure of healing—some sign. And it may be that here the full trust of that half-hoping heart was gained by the very lingering of the light on the threshold of those half-opened eyes.
"For thou wouldst have us linger still
Upon the verge of good or ill,
That on thy guiding hand unseen
Our undivided hearts may lean."
Certainly we may learn, in the midst of the variety of the Lord's ways of working:
1. That it may please him to use many means to accomplish that which by a word, a touch, a look—or without—he could instantly effect.
2. That it may equally please him to detain hope till it is made strong by tried faith—the faith that is as severely tried by time as by fire.
3. That it may as truly please him to draw out the heart's love by its sense of dependence upon him. So is it by all those slow but beautiful processes of nature, which are the Lord's hands for ministering to us bread and wine.
4. And most assuredly may we learn not to despise the Lord's work while it is in process. For what seems to us to be but imperfectness of work or tardiness of method, may be his kind and gentle and instructive way of leading us to see things in their perfectness—even "all things clearly."—G.