Lenten Homily, 15 March 2026

This is at least the third time I’ve heard a homily on this Gospel, but it’s an interesting passage. It’s long, and it gives us a lot to look at: the man born blind, the Pharisees, the man’s parents, and Jesus Himself. And underneath it all is a simple question: are they able to see?

Because it connects back to the other readings too—what does it even mean to see? There’s physical sight, and there’s spiritual sight. We’ve got this guy who’s blind. We have the Pharisees. We have his parents. We have Jesus. So who’s actually seeing? What does it mean?

At first it seems obvious. The blind guy is the one who ends up seeing, and everyone else is the one who doesn’t. But in reality, the passage shows a whole range of blindness—what it looks like, how it hides, and how it can even grow in people who think they see just fine.

“Those Without Sight May See”

The last part is especially striking. Jesus says: “I have come into this world so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind” (John 9:39). And it’s like, whoa—Jesus is turning people blind? I thought it was supposed to be the other way around.

But Jesus says it, so He’s revealing something. And the problem is: there are people who aren’t seeing what He’s revealing, or who aren’t able to see it.

Even with the parables, Jesus reveals things to those around Him, and for others it remains a mystery—they never understand. That’s interesting. There are things that, if we’re able to see, we will see. And there are other things that, if we think we’re seeing, maybe we’re not.

So we go back to the man born blind. He ends up seeing—but what does it really mean to see?

Jesus puts mud on his face. He washes it off. He can see. But then all of a sudden, he still doesn’t recognize that Christ is the Messiah. Jesus asks him a question, and it’s almost like: now you see, but you don’t really see.

And then Jesus opens his spiritual eyes.

At the same time, Jesus makes something very clear: there are others who are blind. That’s critical. But then the question becomes: what does that mean for me? Where is my blindness? Where do I think I see? What am I even asking the Lord for?

I think that’s an important exercise for all of us.

The Blindness We Don’t Notice

I don’t know about you, but there are a lot of times in the spiritual life when we get to a certain point—whatever, we’re praying, we’re going to church—and then all of a sudden we realize something we didn’t notice before. And it makes a big difference. It’s like my eyes open.

Maybe I notice I’m treating someone in a specific way. Or I realize I’ve been thinking in a very human way about everything: my biggest concern is what we’re going to eat, or do I have enough money, or whatever. And then all of a sudden my mind changes. The way I think changes—and then everything changes.

Or there are times when I think I’ve got everything under control, and then someone says something and it completely changes the way I see what’s going on.

Even something simple: you’re going on vacation, and your flight gets canceled. Nothing really changed, but reality changes. And then the way you look at everything changes.

Or you wake up and you didn’t sleep well. The day before you were thinking, “This is going to be a great day.” Then you sleep badly and wake up and it’s like, “Why do I even exist?” I don’t know—that happens to me, at least.

But the point is: we should be asking the Lord what we really want.

Because one thing is what happens. Another thing is what this man is asking for.

What Are You Actually Asking the Lord For?

For me, the interesting question is: what are you actually asking the Lord?

There’s a part in this Gospel where it seems like a lot of people are asking questions, but not necessarily because they want to see. They just don’t want to be considered blind. And I think there’s a difference.

It’s like: I don’t want to suffer. I don’t want to have a sickness. But I’m not really interested in health.

Or: I don’t want to sin. I don’t want to have problems. But I’m not really interested in eternal life, or happiness. It’s just: “I don’t want to have problems.”

And that’s an interesting way of going about it.

Is my life about uprooting problems—fixing, taking care of everything—or is it, “Lord, what are you doing?” There’s a difference.

And it doesn’t seem like there are a lot of people in the Gospel actually looking for true sight. But true sight is exactly what Jesus is granting.

So let’s ask honestly: what am I looking for in this Lenten season?

This morning, Father Stefan was saying that the whole point of Lent is to deepen our vision of what Christ is doing and what He wants to do. So we can ask:

“Lord, I want to see what You’re doing in my life.”

“Lord, I want to see what You’ve done in my life.”

“Lord, I want to see what You have for me.”

Or we can ask: “I just don’t want to have problems this time.”

I’m not saying that’s a bad desire. But what am I really asking for this Lent?

Because if you ask, “Lord, what are You really doing?” you’ll probably have problems—meaning, you’ll probably be led into things that stretch you: “Where do You want me to go?” “How are You loving me?” There will be moments where you’re walking the way of the cross, where you don’t understand, where you suffer.

But that doesn’t mean your eyes aren’t being opened.

The Mud, the Resistance, and the Cost of Healing

Even in a very practical way, this guy suffers to get his sight back—physically and spiritually.

Mud on your eyes? I don’t know about you, but that’s kind of disgusting. We have this “nice” Jesus who heals people, and here He is rubbing this nasty stuff on the guy’s face. I mean, Jesus, You can find a better way.

And then everyone gets upset with him. He’s just like, “What is up with this? I can see. Can you relax? I’m happy. Can you be happy with me?” He gets a really hard time for the good thing that’s happening.

So again: if we live Lent correctly, or if we live the Christian life in a broader sense, yeah—people probably won’t be happy. It will probably be difficult.

I live in a country where there’s about 50% of the sunlight that I’m used to. I live in a country where they don’t speak my language. I have less money and fewer resources. That’s a fact. We’re not changing it.

But that doesn’t mean the Lord isn’t opening something new.

It doesn’t make the hard parts good or comfortable. It just means the Lord is asking us to go somewhere—and along the way there are steps: people understand what I’m doing, they don’t understand what I’m doing. They like it, they don’t like it.

A lot of people might ask, “Why are you in Vienna? What are you doing there? You’re a missionary—what does that even mean?” But when the Lord is opening our eyes, that kind of reaction is normal.

A Prayer for This Lent

So as we move forward in Lent, let’s ask ourselves the question—concretely: what am I asking the Lord?

And hopefully we can get to the point where we can say:

“Lord, I would like to see as You see.”

“I would like to know where You are.”

“I would like to live as You live.”

That’s answerable. If we want Him to love us, that’s doable.

What I’m trying to say is: if we ask Him to take away all our problems, He might—but He might not. It’s like going into prayer and saying, “Lord, I want an answer to this question.” You might get an answer, and you can definitely encounter Him in prayer no matter what. But whether you get a specific answer is up to Him.

But if our question is, “Lord, I want to encounter You—and I hope You give me the answer,” then encountering Him is a guarantee.

So let’s try to shift: “Lord, what are You doing?” If we ask Him that, He will answer. “Where are You?” And maybe He’s in silence. Maybe He’s in simplicity.

And by identifying where He is, we begin to see better.

Because the point isn’t that you saw Him once and never see Him again. The point is that you learn to see, and you keep learning to see. The man begins to see, and he learns to identify where Christ is.

And Christ isn’t only in the chapel. He isn’t only at a conference. He isn’t only when I’m fully funded. He isn’t only when my parents totally understand this wacky thing I’m doing on the other side of the world.

He’s present in the specifics of our lives.

So, Lord, we ask You in this Mass, in this Lenten season, and in our lives: open our eyes to what You’re doing. You are active right now. We don’t have to wait for tomorrow. Even in a simple way, even in something we weren’t expecting, even in something we can’t quite see—we thank You for that.

And Lord, help us to see more. Help us to focus above all on You—not even necessarily what You’re doing, but the fact that You are present, and that You are here.