Reflection, Seeing Beyond Appearances 

15th March 2026 Lent 4 

1 Samuel 16:1–13, John 9:1–41 

Rev Dr Fei Taule’ale’ausumai 

Kia ora, talofa lava and greetings to those who have joined us on our livestream.   

I know we all know what it is like to front up to a job interview.  For me 4 years ago, fronting up to almost 100 of you in the hall for Saturday afternoon tea was quite a job interview.  I obviously passed the test.  I know some of us have also been on an interviewing panel.  I wonder how much goes into appearance; we are told to dress impressively.  I remember someone telling me when I was candidating for the National ministry interview “don’t dress butch”.  I thought to myself, what does that mean and who are you?  You don’t even know me.  I reminded her of those words last year when I met her at our Presbyterian Women’s retreat.   

 Apart from curriculum vitaes and resume’s being enhanced by A1 if you choose to go that way, has much changed?  I know that when I have interviewed people in the past, they looked great on paper but interviewed badly, whilst others looked weak on paper and interviewed brilliantly.  The person that interviewed the most confidently often got the job, not necessarily the one with the impressive cv.   

The story of Samuel anointing David comes from what scholars often call the Deuteronomistic History, a collection of writings that includes the books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings. These texts were shaped and edited during the time of the Babylonian exile in the 6th century BCE.  At that time, Israel had lost almost everything their land, their temple, and their monarchy. 

When Samuel goes to the home of Jesse and visually interviews the sons of Jesse, he’s impressed but each son in turn was not the one that fit the calling.  Samuel hears the words “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature…for God does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.” 

David is not even in the room when Samuel arrives. He is the forgotten one the youngest son, the shepherd boy out in the fields.  I wonder how many of us have felt like the one people looked past or overlooked?  Actually for me being the 3rd child I felt that I pretty much was depended on for the doing the tasks that the oldest son didn’t necessarily get asked to do because they were pretty much allowed to do their own thing and the second child being the oldest daughter was a little spoilt perhaps our 3rd child Fei would be the one did everything we asked.  They were right I did, so I found other ways of slipping off site or escaping responsibility by playing softball on Saturdays and getting my own space away from the home.   

We all carry assumptions about who matters, who is capable, who is trustworthy, who is worthy of leadership. Much of the time we do not even realise we are making these judgments. They are shaped by upbringing, culture, tradition, and sometimes by fear.  Samuel had such assumptions.  He assumed the tallest and strongest son must surely be the obvious candidate.  Samuel had to learn to look differently.   

And that challenge continues for us today.  We might ask ourselves:  Who are the forgotten folk working out in the margins of society today?  Who are the people working quietly in the fields while others occupy the seats of power?  Who are the voices that are not invited into the conversation?  In every generation there are those who are overlooked the young, the elderly, migrants, those living with disability, those whose voices have been historically silenced. Yet again and again the biblical story reminds us that God has a habit of working through the margins rather than the centre.  In this instance, young shepherd boy David was not even called into the room. 

In the healing of the blind man in the Gospel of John, written many centuries later most likely toward the end of the first century, around 90–100 CE. By this time, followers of Jesus were living in a difficult and often painful situation.  The early Jesus movement had begun as a Jewish renewal movement within the synagogue. But by the end of the first century, tensions between Jesus-followers and other Jewish communities had intensified. 

After the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE, Jewish communities were reorganizing their identity and leadership. In that process, many scholars believe that followers of Jesus were gradually excluded from synagogue life.  This social conflict forms part of the background of John’s Gospel.  When we read the story of the man born blind being interrogated by the religious authorities, we hear echoes of that conflict. 

When the blind man’s parents are asked about their sons healing by the religious authorities they respond cautiously.  They say: “Ask him; he is of age.”  John tells us they were afraid because anyone who confessed Jesus might be put out of the synagogue.  In other words, the story reflects the lived experience of John’s community a community wrestling with rejection, identity, and faith. 

The healing story therefore becomes more than a miracle narrative.  It becomes a symbolic story about spiritual sight and spiritual blindness.  The man who was blind gradually begins to see more and more clearly.  First, he calls Jesus simply “the man called Jesus.”  Then he calls him “a prophet.”  Finally, he recognizes him as the Son of Man. His vision grows. 

 Meanwhile, the religious authorities move in the opposite direction.  The more evidence they encounter, the more entrenched they become in their certainty.  The real blindness in the story is not physical.  It is spiritual and ideological. 

When we place these two texts side by side, a powerful pattern emerges.  Samuel initially assumes the eldest son must be God’s chosen one.  The Pharisees assume that a man born blind must be a sinner.  Both assumptions are overturned. 

In each case, God disrupts human categories.  God chooses the overlooked shepherd boy.  Jesus restores sight to the one society had written off.  And those who thought they understood everything discover that their vision was limited. 

Perhaps the invitation of these texts for us today is to remain open to God’s surprising ways of working in the world.  We live in a society that still judges by appearance, status, and reputation.  But the biblical witness of these two stories reminds us of that God often works through those we least expect.  The overlooked. The marginalised.  The ones not invited into the room. 

And perhaps the deeper spiritual question for all of us today is this: Where might we need new sight?  Because blindness is not only a condition of the eyes.  It can also be a condition of the heart, of culture, and of community. 

The religious authorities had assumptions too.  They believed suffering must be the result of sin. Their theology left little room for mystery or compassion.  Yet in both stories, God interrupts those assumptions.  The man born blind was assumed to be irrelevant to serious religious discussion.  And yet these are the very people through whom God’s purposes are revealed. 

There is also another layer in the Gospel story after his healing the formerly blind man who becomes increasingly courageous.  At first, he simply answers questions. But gradually he begins to challenge the authorities themselves.  At one point he says, maybe cynically: “Do you also want to become his disciples?” in a moment of quiet courage. The one who had     been powerless suddenly finds his voice.  His physical sight is restored but something else happens too.  His dignity is restored. 

And perhaps that is one of the most profound dimensions of Jesus’ ministry.  Healing is never only about physical restoration.  It is about restoring people to community, restoring their humanity, restoring their place in the world. 

And so, these two ancient texts invite us into a spiritual practice.  The practice of learning to see differently.  To see beyond surface appearances.  To see the quiet gifts of people around us.  To see the image of God in those who may have been overlooked or misunderstood.  To see possibilities where others see limitations.   As human beings we tend to look for strength, prestige, confidence, status.  But in these two stories God looks for something else entirely.  For openness of heart, for courage, for compassion, for people who are willing to listen. 

And maybe the final invitation of these texts is that we too allow our own vision to be gently reshaped.  That we approach the world with a little more humility.  That we acknowledge we may not always see clearly.  And that we remain open to the possibility that God may be at work in places, people, and situations we had not previously noticed. 

In this instance, the shepherd boy becomes the king.  Sometimes the blind man becomes the one who truly sees.  And sometimes the people who think they see most clearly are the ones who still have something to learn.  Amen. 

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