There are things we can see clearly in life, and there are other things that escape us. Today science allows us to examine, measure, and analyse almost everything. And yet, despite all this knowledge, something essential can still remain hidden.
The Gospel reminds us today that true light comes from Christ. As the prologue of the Gospel says, “The true light that enlightens everyone was coming into the world.” Jesus comes not only to heal physical blindness, but to illuminate the deeper blindness of the human heart.
The story of the man born blind is not only about one man in ancient Jerusalem. It is about all of us. In the early Church this Gospel was read during Lent because the catechumens preparing for baptism recognised themselves in this man. Before encountering Christ, they were blind. Through baptism they were enlightened.
They begin the story with a question that people still ask today: “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” They assume that suffering must be punishment. Jesus rejects this idea immediately. He refuses to blame the man or his family. Instead, he shifts the question completely. The real issue is not who is guilty, but how the light of God can shine even in darkness.
Then Jesus performs a strange gesture. He makes mud with saliva and places it on the blind man’s eyes. This gesture recalls the creation of humanity in the Book of Genesis, when God formed the human being from the dust of the earth. It is as if Jesus is creating again, giving a new beginning, a new humanity.
But the healing is not immediate. The man must go and wash in the pool of Siloam. He must walk in trust before he can see. Faith is often like that: we begin walking before we fully understand.
The real drama begins not with the miracle but with the reaction of the people. The neighbours are confused. The authorities interrogate him. His parents are afraid. The religious leaders refuse to believe what happened. In this story, the one who was blind begins to see more and more clearly, while those who claim to see become increasingly blind. The greatest blindness is not ignorance—it is the refusal to see.
At first the man simply calls Jesus “the man called Jesus.” Then he recognises him as a prophet. Later he understands that he must be from God. Finally, when he meets Jesus again, he calls him Lord and worships him.
This is the journey of faith. It is gradual. It grows step by step.
The man who knew he was blind receives sight. Those who believed they possessed the light remain in darkness. Lent invites us to recognise our own blindness to open us to the light that never sets. Christ comes into our darkness so that we may become children of light. Let us ask for the humility to say: “Lord, help me see.”
Father Josekutty Mathew CMF
