From Darkness to Faith: The Man Born Blind (John 9 Homily)
Readings and Virtual Homily for March 15, 2026, Fourth Sunday of Lent; Laetare Sunday; Five Retreats Down, One To Go
Readings for Mass this Sunday:
1 Samuel 16:1, 6-7, 10-13
Psalm 23:1-6
Ephesians 5:8-14
John 9:1, 3-9, 13-17, 34-38
Dear Friends and Family,
There are multiple possibilities for a main theme with today's readings. The passage from Samuel alone, describing the selection of David as Israel's future king, might be used to reflect on a variety of topics. And the psalm is one of the most beloved from the Psalter, frequently read at funeral Masses -- "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
I am so enamored of the young man born blind, however, in today's passage from the Gospel of John, that (as I did last week with the Samaritan woman) I am going to focus this homily on him.
I might note that the designation "young" here is my own; John does not give us any direct information about the blind man's age. We may infer that he is younger rather than older in that his parents, called to answer questions from the synagogue leaders about him, recommend that the leaders ask the man himself, observing that he "is of age" (vs. 21). Another reason for concluding that the man is young, and a persuasive reason, in my view, is his courage, his energy, his outright defiance in the face of the denial and resistance on the part of the religious leaders.
To really enter into the story's dynamic, we should stop for a moment and give thought to what it means to have been blind from birth. The young man has never seen his parents (with whom he evidently lives). He has never seen the impressive city gate at which he daily sits, with his beggar's cup (or Koffer), hoping that people passing by will have pity on him; will help him relieve the burden on his parents imposed by his dependence. He has never seen the sun, the moon, the stars; never seen a tree, a butterfly, a shower of rain, a meadow of wildflowers in bloom. His is a world of sound and (felt) shapes; it is a world which has always been sightless, always been dark. He knows the world in this manner and no other.
To have received from Jesus the gift of sight, a gift for which he did not ask, literally changed everything for the young man. Imagine seeing the world for the first time. Imagine seeing people for the first time; buildings for the first time; the sky, clouds, hills, streets, donkeys, geese, grass -- and go on and on and on with all the sights we who have sight simply take for granted. That in itself was life changing for the young man.
But there was much more, of course, not least the fact that now he would no longer have to sit and beg for his living. He would be getting a late start, of course, at any trade or profession, but the world of work, as opposed to the world of sightless begging, was now available to him. And with that availability other blessings previously denied him might now come his way, the blessing, for instance of romantic love, of marriage and family.
Jesus gave the young man all of this, when he gave him his sight. When we consider how vast this gift was, it is perhaps no wonder that the young man demonstrates such courage in the face of the hostile questioning and in the end, the outright ridicule of the religious leaders. When, after questioning his frightened parents, they call the young man back for a second round of interrogation, he turns the tables on them. In response to their mockery, he mocks them.
"I already told you," he says, to their questioning, "but you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to be his disciples, too?" (vs. 27).
Never in the history of the world, the young man tells the leaders, has anyone opened the eyes of one born blind (vs. 32). The miracle is stupendous and everyone ought to be rejoicing at it, instead of which the leaders, threatened, frightened, arrogant, are doing everything they can to discredit both Jesus and the young man.
And in facing this unexpected reality, the young man receives an even deeper gift, from Jesus. He not only sees the physical world for the first time; he sees spiritual reality as well. He sees the darkness, indeed, as Jesus himself puts it, the blindness of the synagogue officials (vss. 39-41). The young man is gifted with two sets of vision, in the opening of his formerly sightless eyes. And he is repelled by what he encounters, on the spiritual side. Repelled and compelled -- compelled to speak defiant truth to corrupt power, regardless of the consequences.
The consequences are that he is thrown out of the synagogue; these officials had a rule that anyone who followed Jesus could not be a member of the congregation (vs. 22). We may infer that, however astonished, even hurt by this rough and unjust treatment the young man may have been, he in the end did not care. An instant disciple, he chose Jesus over the synagogue and made his choice unequivocally clear. He'd spent his entire life in darkness. Now that he'd seen the light -- the Light, we might say -- he would never abandon it.
"When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, he found him and said, 'Do you believe in the Son of Man?'" (vs. 35). And John tells us that the young man answers in the affirmative and "worshipped" Jesus (vs. 38).
The joy of the young man in having seen the Light may be associated with this Sunday's status as Laetare Sunday; the fourth Sunday of Lent is so-called because we are now just over half way through the season -- the joys of Easter are drawing near. The word laetare may be translated "rejoice." This is one of two Sundays in the year when rose-colored vestments are the official priestly color. I do what I can to avoid wearing them, but if a priest so desires, he may be vested in pink this Sunday. (The other such Sunday being, of course, the third of Advent, Gaudete Sunday.)
I am myself rejoicing in an exceptionally strong ministerial start to Lent. As previously noted, I have had five retreats in the three weeks since the Saturday after Ash Wednesday. I have not had such a full Lenten schedule since before COVID; it is great to be feeling so -- fully used, I might say, completely engaged -- this Lent. I have one last retreat to take part in this evening (it is Saturday afternoon that I am writing this). The parish Confirmation retreat is happening this weekend at Redwood Glen. But I am only going over this evening to help Fr. Jesus with our teens' confessions.
When I get back tonight (probably around midnight; Redwood Glen is 75 minutes away) I will enter the second half of Lent with a much less demanding schedule -- and I am good with that. Lent is my favorite liturgical season but since becoming a priest I have found it -- challenging -- to try to do what I am always urging everyone else to do. Get quiet. Get reflective. Go into the desert and be alone with the Lord. Hoping I can arrange a little downtime "in the desert" with Jesus, these next three weeks.
And hoping that your Lenten season is proving grace-filled as well.
Take good care and God bless.
Love,
El Padre