A Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Lent
Sunday, March 15, 2026
Prince of Peace Catholic Church – 10:00 Mass
1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Psalm 23: 1-3a, 3b-4, 5, 6; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41
Audio Recording
Have you ever looked everywhere for something, only to discover that it was right in front of you the whole time? I have that experience more often than I’d like to admit. Sometimes I’ll be looking for something in the house and after searching for a while I’ll ask Christine if she’s seen it. She’ll walk over, look for about two seconds, pick it up, and say, “It’s right here.”
Apparently I sometimes look for things with what she calls my “man eyes.” I’m looking, but somehow I’m not really seeing what’s right in front of me. It’s funny when it happens at home, but it reveals something about human nature. Sometimes the problem isn’t that something isn’t there — the problem is that we simply fail to see it.
Something very similar happens in today’s Gospel. Jesus performs an extraordinary miracle, healing a man who had been blind from birth. Yet the people who should have recognized what was happening — the religious leaders — are the very ones who cannot see the truth standing right in front of them.
The readings today all revolve around this theme of learning to see as God sees. In the first reading from First Samuel, the prophet Samuel comes to the house of Jesse to anoint the next king of Israel. When he sees Jesse’s strong and impressive sons, he assumes one of them must be the Lord’s chosen. But God corrects him with these memorable words: “Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart.” We tend to judge by appearances — one’s strength, success, reputation, status — but God sees something deeper. God sees the heart.
Our Gospel today is one of the longest passages in the liturgical year. Believe me, as the one proclaiming it, I felt this even more than you who listened to it!
At first it seems to be simply a miracle story — the healing of a man born blind. But if we look closely, we see that there are actually two miracles taking place.
The first miracle is obvious. Jesus makes mud with His saliva, places it on the man’s eyes, and tells him to wash in the Pool of Siloam. The man obeys, and suddenly he can see. For the first time in his life he sees the sky, the faces of people around him, and the world that had always been hidden in darkness.
In the early Church, Christians also saw something symbolic in this moment. The man receives his sight only after he goes and washes. It reminds us of Baptism, when the waters of grace open our minds and our hearts, bringing us out of darkness into the light of Christ.
But the second miracle is even more remarkable. As the story unfolds, the man’s SPIRITUAL vision begins to become clearer.
After the healing, the neighbors are confused. The Pharisees begin questioning him, trying to understand how the miracle happened. And as the questioning continues, something beautiful happens in the man himself. His understanding of Jesus grows step by step.
At first he simply says, “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes.” Later he says, “He is a prophet.” Then he boldly declares, “If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” Finally, when Jesus reveals Himself as the Son of Man, the man responds with faith: “I do believe, Lord,” and he worships Him. So the man who was once blind experiences two healings. First, his physical sight is restored. But even more importantly, his spiritual sight opens until he recognizes Jesus and believes in Him.
Meanwhile the opposite happens to the Pharisees. They begin confident that they understand everything — God, the law, and how the world works.
Yet the more evidence they see, the more resistant they become. By the end of the story the roles are reversed. The man who was blind sees clearly, while the Jewish leaders who claimed to see reveal their blindness.
That is why Jesus concludes with that striking statement: “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.” Jesus is not condemning people who lack knowledge. He is warning about the danger of spiritual pride — the attitude that says, “I already know.” When the Pharisees ask Him, “Surely we are not also blind, are we?” Jesus replies, “If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you say, ‘We see,’ so your sin remains.”
Saint Paul echoes this theme in the second reading: “You were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.” Without Christ our spiritual vision is clouded, but through Christ we are brought into the light.
There is also a lesson here that speaks especially to us as we grow older. Our physical eyesight may weaken over time, but something else can become clearer — our spiritual vision. Many people discover that with age they begin to see life more clearly. Things that once seemed so important — status, possessions, achievements — no longer seem so central.
Relationships matter more. Faith matters more. Eternity matters more. In a sense, the Christian life is EXACTLY this: learning to see more clearly as the years pass.
The blind man in today’s Gospel is a beautiful image of this journey. At first he sees only partially, but step by step his understanding grows until he finally recognizes Jesus and worships Him. And that is the ultimate purpose of all our seeing: to recognize and worship God.
Our Gospel today invites each of us to ask a simple but profound question: where might I still be blind?
Lent is a time to pray the humble prayer of the blind man: “Lord, I want to see.” Humility opens the door to grace. The blind man receives sight because he listens and obeys. The Pharisees remain blind because they refuse to admit they might be wrong.
And the good news is this: Christ is STILL the light of the world. When we follow Him faithfully through prayer, Scripture, and the teachings of the Church, our vision becomes clearer. Then, one day, we will see Him face to face.
Until that day, our prayer remains the same prayer of faith: “Lord, I want to see.” Because the truth is, sometimes we all have a little bit of those “man eyes” when it comes to our spiritual life. God’s grace may be right in front of us, Christ may be working in our lives, but we don’t always recognize it.
So during this Lenten season, let us ask the Lord to remove whatever blinds us so that we may truly see. And like the blind man in today’s Gospel, may we come to recognize Jesus for who He truly is and say with faith: “I do believe, Lord.”