Gospel: John 9:1–38
Oops!
Have you ever walked through your house at night with the lights off?
You know the room. You know where the furniture is. You think you can navigate without a problem.
But then—crack!—your shin finds the corner of a coffee table you swore wasn’t there.
The pain shoots through your leg, and in that moment of clarity, you realize: you thought you could see, but you were deceived.
We do this in our spiritual lives, don’t we? We walk confidently through the world, certain of our perceptions, trusting our instincts, convinced we know what’s real and true. “I see clearly,” we tell ourselves.
But what if—like that nighttime walker—we’re actually stumbling in darkness?
Ugh!
In today’s Gospel, Jesus heals a man blind from birth. A stunning miracle, yes, but St. John the Theologian wants us to perceive something far deeper. This story isn’t merely about physical blindness. It’s about spiritual blindness—yours and mine.
Observe how the others in this story react:
- The neighbors doubt, saying, “Is this really the same man?”
- The Pharisees fracture into factions, arguing over whether Jesus is from God or a sinner.
- The man’s parents shrink back in fear, saying, “Ask him; he is of age.”
- And the religious leaders—those supposedly closest to God—cast out the very man who encountered divine mercy.
Everyone in this narrative suffers from blindness of some kind—everyone except the man who was born without sight.
Here’s the devastating irony: those with perfect physical vision cannot see the Messiah standing before them. They are trapped in spiritual darkness while insisting they dwell in light. They mistake their shadows for illumination.
And brothers and sisters, isn’t this our condition as well?
We believe the world we inhabit is solid and real. We pursue wealth that fades, comfort that fails, recognition that withers, control that slips through our fingers—thinking these are the substance of life. But they are mere shadows.
As St. Paul reminds us, “The form of this world is passing away.” (1 Cor. 7:31)
Yet we cling to these shadows as if they were the only reality.
Aha!
What, then, is the remedy for our blindness?
It lies in Christ’s own declaration: “I am the Light of the world.” This isn’t poetic metaphor—it’s cosmic reality.
Remember when Jesus spoke these words: during the Feast of Tabernacles, when the Temple courts blazed with enormous lamps illuminating Jerusalem’s night sky. This feast commemorated how God guided Israel through the wilderness by a pillar of fire. And in the midst of this glorious festival, Christ makes His breathtaking claim: “I am the true Light.”
Then He demonstrates this truth—not by kindling another temple lamp, but by igniting a human soul. He opens the eyes of a man born in darkness. And through this, Christ reveals that the light which truly saves, truly guides, truly unveils reality is not external to us—it’s Him, dwelling within us.
And if we’ve been attentive since Pascha night, we’ve already received this very Light!
“Come receive the Light from the Light that is never overtaken by night, and glorify Christ, who is risen from the dead.”
We held this Holy Fire in our hands. We passed it from person to person in the darkness. We processed with trembling joy as the Resurrection broke through the night of our fallen world.
And now, in today’s Gospel, we witness what this Light accomplishes: It heals our wounded nature. It reveals what was always true. It transforms us from beings of darkness into children of light.
Whee!
Beloved, this blind man’s story is our own story.
We too were born blind—inhabiting a creation dimmed by sin, fear, and death. And then Christ came—not merely to improve our vision, but to grant us new eyes altogether.
Pascha wasn’t simply a one-night celebration. It was the opening of our spiritual eyes to behold a new reality—a Resurrection reality that was always present but that we could not perceive.
Like the man in today’s Gospel:
- We received the touch of Christ in Holy Chrismation.
- We were washed in the baptismal waters of our own Siloam.
- We rose with transformed vision, seeing the world illumined by uncreated light.
- And now, we too are called to bear witness and offer worship.
The Light of Christ didn’t merely glow on Pascha night—it now radiates from within our hearts, if only we allow Him to open our eyes daily.
Yeah!
So, my brothers and sisters in Christ, we will not retreat back into the shadows.
We won’t live as though we never received the Light. We will not behave as though death still reigns, or despair has the final word.
“We have seen the true Light. We have received the heavenly Spirit. We have found the true faith, worshiping the undivided Trinity, for the Trinity has saved us.”
We now live as children of this Light.
We walk in illumination, allowing Christ’s radiance to transform how we see one another. Let it reveal truth, beauty, and God’s presence in all things and all people.
And like the man born blind, may we never cease to proclaim:
“Lord, I believe.”
And worship Him—not just with our lips, but with lives that reflect His light to a world still stumbling in darkness.
For Christ is Risen!
Amen.