Aye, eye

A homily for the Fourth Sunday of Lent, with the Scrutiny Year A Readings, March 30, 2025

1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41

Our eyes are the windows to our souls.

I’ve heard that a zillion times, and I believe it.

Our eyes reveal exactly who we are, and they empower us to see clearly just who and what other people are.

World leaders and other politicians like to say they’ve seen into each other’s souls.

Lovers of all ages look longingly into each other’s eyes.

Babies stare at us with curiosity, almost pleading with us to teach them everything.

Even our pets have a way of telling us with their eyes that they trust us.

Our eyes are the windows to our souls.

But when those windows are clouded or blocked altogether — whether physically, emotionally or spiritually — our lives are out of step from the mainstream.

For many of us, being out of step means disconnecting. Disconnecting from world and local events. Disconnecting from family and friends and the community at large. Disconnecting from parts of ourselves.

By giving the man born blind his physical eyesight, Jesus offered him new ways to connect with and understand the world around him.

By giving the man born blind his physical eyesight, Jesus offered him spiritual and intellectual insight. And the man wisely chose to use it.

As we reflect on John’s Gospel today, we’re challenged to wonder if we’re seeing. If we’re capitalizing on our spiritual and emotional and intellectual and sensory insights.

Now, all of us are born blind, as far as insights go. We start as babies, as blank canvases. Over time, we learn, we think, we feel, we interpret everything that life throws at us. And through that process, our insights grow, mature and blossom.

Some of us, like the man in today’s passage from Scripture, have limitations in one or more of our physical senses, and they shape the insights of those people. The insights of differently abled folks then help deepen the insights of the greater family of God.

And when we understand, or at least try to understand and respect our sisters and brothers, we understand that we are all connected. We understand that each of our unique gifts and skills and even our personality quirks fit together in the beautiful mosaic we call Creation.

All of this comes from the love of God through the healing power of Jesus, the Light of the World.

Insight that comes through eyesight and our four other senses usually grows slowly. Slowly, but steadily. And every now and then, like a teenager’s growth spurt, our insights hit us with an aha moment, a major epiphany, a revelation about God’s plan for us. Maybe we’ve come to a fork in the road of our lives, and we have the good sense to listen to a divine whisper about which path to take.

That’s what happened to the man born blind after his encounter with Jesus.

Let’s take a second to think about it a little more.

Here’s what we know from the Gospel: He was born without physical eyesight. He was considered to be an adult. He had no steady job; he was a beggar who relied on the kindness of strangers for his daily bread.

Then Jesus put muddy goop on the man’s eyes, and after the man washed it off, he could see everything he previously knew only by touch.

Jesus turned this man’s life upside-down. Everything the man thought he knew was gone. And after the euphoria of seeing for the first time wore off, the man had to have been terrified. He had no job and no employable skills that we know about. There’s no mention of a special person in his life, other than his parents. We’re unclear about where he slept at night.

Everything — everything! — in this man’s life radically changed.

But despite his likely fears, he chose to follow Jesus and proclaim to anyone and everyone that the Son of Man is the 100 percent embodiment of pure love and goodness.

Perhaps we could consider his a baptism by mud. Because he definitely was reborn, the way our Sacrament of Baptism confers new birth through water and the Holy Spirit.

So: What about us?

Despite our likely fears, do we choose to proclaim to anyone and everyone that the Son of Man is the 100 percent embodiment of pure love and goodness?

Every time we encounter Jesus in our lives, through the Holy Eucharist, through our works of charity and social justice, through sharing a minute and a cup of coffee with someone who needs our ears and our presence, we renew our baptismal vows. We have the opportunity to gain a little insight. We can connect more deeply with the Mystical Body of Christ, our sisters and brothers all around us.

We especially can connect with Christ, who reveals himself to us through the eyes of the so-called least among us.

Every time we encounter Jesus in our lives, we can see clearly who we are, what we are, and what God wants us to do.

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Published by

Bill Zapcic

Husband. Father. Brother. Friend. Journalist and consultant. Roman Catholic deacon. Lover of humanity. Weekly homilist and occasional photographer. Theme images courtesy of Unsplash.com.

2 thoughts on “Aye, eye”

  1. Bill, this is a great homily that you just shared. It touched me because I’m going through this just like the blind man did and reading this was definitely God sent.

  2. Bill, as always, I take away much from your homilies. This is the paragraph in this one that was particularly meaningful”
    Insight that comes through eyesight and our four other senses usually grows slowly. Slowly, but steadily. And every now and then, like a teenager’s growth spurt, our insights hit us with an aha moment, a major epiphany, a revelation about God’s plan for us. Maybe we’ve come to a fork in the road of our lives, and we have the good sense to listen to a divine whisper about which path to take.

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