Reflection for March 15, 2026

Fourth Sunday of Lent (A)

​1 Samuel 16:1B, 6-7, 10-13A | Psalm 23: 1-3A, 3B-4, 5, 6 | Ephesians 5:8-14 | John 9:1-41

​The readings for this Sunday actually hit close to home for me personally. Laetare Sunday, the Fourth Sunday of Lent, is that moment in the season when the Church pauses and invites us to rejoice because Easter is already drawing near. Our readings give us a simple picture of what this celebration is about. The prophet Samuel reminds us that the way God sees is not the same as the way we see. The Apostle Paul invites us to live as children of light because of our baptism. Finally, the Gospel of John encourages us to ask for the grace to have our eyes opened so we can truly recognize Jesus as the Son of Man, the Messiah.

​After Physical Education class one afternoon, the girls hurried into the locker room, laughing, talking, and getting ready for their next class. Among them was Candice, a quiet girl who had been blind since childhood. While the others quickly changed and chatted with their friends, Candice moved carefully, feeling her way around the familiar space she had learned to navigate with confidence. Then suddenly, without warning, the lights went out. The locker room was plunged into darkness. At once the room filled with panic. Girls began to scream and call out to one another. “I can’t see anything!” someone cried. “What happened to the lights?” another shouted. In the middle of the confusion, Candice turned to the girl standing beside her and calmly asked, “What’s going on?” “The lights went out,” her friend answered nervously. “We can’t see.” For a brief moment there was silence. Then Candice gently reached out her hand and said in the most reassuring voice, “Don’t worry. Take my hand. I’ll lead you out.” And so, in the darkness that frightened everyone else, the blind girl led her classmates safely toward the door. That day the girls learned something they would never forget. Candice might not see the way they did, but she was not helpless. In the moment when everyone else lost their sight, she was the one who knew how to move forward. Because sometimes the people we think cannot see are the very ones who know the way.

God sees in ways that are far beyond our understanding. In today’s First Reading, Samuel is sent by God to anoint the next king of Israel—David. When Samuel meets Jesse’s sons, he naturally judges them by their outward appearances. Samuel saw Jesse’s elder son Eliab and thought, “Surely, the Lord’s anointed is here.” Eliab looked like John Lloyd Cruz. Then Samuel saw the other, older sons. And the prophet thought, ‘The Lord surely must have chosen one of these!’ Jesse’s other older sons looked like Richard Gutierez, Paolo Avelino, Jericho Rosales, Daniel Matsunaga, Dingdong Dantes and Coco Martin, respectively. “The Lord must have chosen one of these.” But God’s vision is different. He corrects Samuel: “The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). God sees beyond what is visible. He sees the fullness of a person’s potential, the intricate beauty of their character, and the possibilities hidden within their heart. David is chosen not for his looks, but for his loyalty, faith, and capacity for love. Where we see limits, weakness, or brokenness, God sees opportunity. Where we judge by appearances, God sees the heart—and through it, He reveals Himself.

Enrique had been blind since childhood. He had never seen the sun rise, never watched the colors of the sky, never recognized a face by sight. Yet everyone in the neighborhood knew him as a man who seemed to see more than most. Every morning he sat outside his small house, greeting people by the sound of their footsteps. When someone was sad, Enrique somehow knew. When someone was struggling, he was the first to offer help. One evening a group of boys mocked him. “How can you talk about light,” one of them laughed, “when you’ve lived your whole life in darkness?” Enrique smiled gently. “My eyes may not see the light,” he said quietly, “but my heart can choose it.” The boys fell silent. Because many who had perfect vision still walked through life with hardened hearts, ignoring truth, kindness, and goodness. Enrique could not see the world with his eyes—but he chose every day to live as a child of light. For in the end, as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry reminds us in The Little Prince, “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

In his letter to the Ephesians, the Apostle Paul speaks plainly: we are called to live as children of light. Baptism is not just a ritual; it is an awakening, a stepping into the light. In the early Greek-speaking Church, Baptism was called φωτισμός (photismos)—an illumination, a bath in light. Before coming to faith, believers lived in the darkness of sin. But through Baptism, they are brought into the light, reborn through the death and resurrection of Christ, and called to live lives that reflect this new reality, striving always to do what pleases the Father. As St. Augustine of Hippo reminds us, "Choose for yourself this day whom you will serve, whether the darkness of sin or the light of God. For he who walks in the light is pleasing to God, and he who walks in darkness turns away from Him."

A story is often told about the young Helen Keller, who could neither see nor hear, yet possessed a heart deeply alive to the world around her. Her teacher, Anne Sullivan, patiently taught her the names of objects by tracing words into her hand with sign language. Day after day, Helen learned the names of things she could touch—the cool feel of water, the roughness of bark, the softness of a flower. Slowly, the world began to open for her. One day, Anne Sullivan decided to try something different. She gently took Helen’s hand and carefully spelled out a new word: G-O-D. She wanted to explain the name of the One who could not be touched or seen. But before she could explain further, something unexpected happened. Helen paused. Her fingers moved thoughtfully across her teacher’s palm, spelling a reply. “Thank you for telling me God’s name, Ms. Sullivan,” she signed. “He has touched me many times before.” For a moment, Anne Sullivan could not speak. The teacher had hoped to introduce God to her student. Instead, she realized that God had already found His way into Helen’s heart. Even in silence and darkness, Helen Keller had already felt the presence of the One who gently touches every human soul. 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus meets Celidonius, a man blind from birth, and opens not only his eyes but also his heart, revealing Himself as the Son of Man. At first, the man does not fully understand who Jesus is, but step by step, his awareness grows. Darkness—both physical and spiritual—once surrounded him, yet when Jesus touches him, it becomes light. Instead of turning away, he follows the path set before him and walks in it. Jesus does something startling: He spits into the dirt, makes mud, and spreads it over the man’s eyes, instructing him to wash in the pool of Siloam. Strange as it seems, this messy act mirrors our own lives. Our hearts, weighed down by fear, doubt, guilt, or failure, sometimes need to get messy before they can be truly cleansed. The good news is this: you are never beyond saving. No matter how dark, tangled, or broken your life feels, if you trust Jesus and follow His instructions—step by step, even when it feels uncomfortable—your eyes will be opened. Light will come. You will see not only with your eyes but with your heart, and in that light, you will discover the fullness of life God has always wanted to give you.

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