Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the 4th Sunday of Lent (Year A) on March 15, 2026 at Old St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Chicago, IL. The homily is based on the day’s readings: 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14; and John 9:1-41.

Our gospel story today is one of the greatest literary passages in the Bible. As we listen, let’s pay attention to two literary elements that John uses. These elements are picked up by our other readings today.

The first is symbolism. In the Gospel of John, the dominant symbol is vision and blindness. Sight is a symbol for the ability to believe in Jesus Christ. Likewise, in our first reading, we have a story of God’s reality being different than what human beings first perceive. In our Ephesians reading, the symbolism moves from vision and blindness to light and dark.

The second literary element is dramatic irony. It is ironic in John that the scholars of the Jewish Law are obstinately blind to Jesus’ power. Similarly, Jesse and Samuel fail to understand that someone who has received God’s favor may not necessarily look that impressive.

For the times when we have refused to acknowledge God’s presence in our own lives, we ask for God’s mercy.

Jesus heals a person born blind – a miracle of the highest degree. In his successive encounters with Jesus, the man comes to deeper faith. First, he calls him “Jesus,” then “a prophet,” then a person “from God,” and finally, “Lord.” Yet the Pharisees refuse to see the obvious power Jesus accesses through his relationship with God, the Almighty. How could the Pharisees be so blind?

We all have blind spots to things that seem obvious to everyone else. Samuel tells Jesse that God has chosen one of his sons to be king of Israel. Yet, after Samuel announces that Jesse’s first seven sons are not chosen by God, Jesse doesn’t think to tell Samuel about his eighth son. How could Jesse be so blind?

Our blindnesses are not necessarily sins. Sometimes, our blindnesses are rooted in our fears of imagining the world to be as wonderful as God intends it to be. One of the life skills we need to learn is adaptability, the ability to look at things from more than one perspective. As St. John Henry Newman said: “To live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often.” People who are rigid have a hard time growing. Like withered plants, they become brittle, easy to break. 

[Pause.] Eight years ago, my attitude about how I work became sclerotic. I thought that if I just worked harder and got better organized, I could get caught up on all the tasks on my plate. I accused myself of being lazy and disorganized. But over time, the Holy Spirit has gently encouraged me to grow, to change, to see myself from a new perspective. 

I haltingly came to accept that I was limited. I needed to unburden myself of my self-imposed expectations. Back in Boston, when people offered to help me with the burdens with which I felt that I had no right to ask for help, I would break into tears. And maybe those tears were just what I needed to soften my heart.

It’s uncomfortable to speak about this, but Ephesians proclaims, “light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.” In Chicago, I’m getting better at asking for help. I’m getting more comfortable with delegating or letting non-essential things go undone if no one steps forward to help.

Lent at Old St. Mary’s this year got off to an amazing start, with great energy for Ash Wednesday, the Stations and Fish Fry, Fr. Frank’s mission, and the Chili Cook-Off. My main job had been to work with staff and volunteers to plan in advance, to ask for enough help, and to be present to the community rather than to be running around making all the details happen.

And that’s when I discovered my growing edge for this Lent. I no longer cry when people offer to help. Instead, I feel guilty because I no longer feel overwhelmed! This Lent, the Holy Spirit is helping me to confront this unreasonable guilt. That guilt is why it took me until age 50 to start asking for the help I should have been asking for when I was 25!

[Profound pause.] This Lent, has the Holy Spirit invited you to bend in new ways, to open your eyes to new possibilities in your relationship with God? Sometimes it’s scary to look at things from a new perspective. But remember, the word “Lent” means springtime. Maybe we’ll grow this Lent by pruning back some of our overly grandiose expectations of ourselves.

The man born blind, by receiving sight, was forced into the political drama that the Pharisees used in their attempts to trip up Jesus. Yet, he rose to the situation, boldly proclaiming his faith, just as our elect and candidates will boldly stand before us in three weeks at the Easter Vigil as they receive the sacraments of initiation into the Catholic faith. 

But before we reach the end of our Lenten journey, I have two questions for all of us to consider:

1. What are the shadows deep inside of us that scare us? [Pause, then repeat.]
2. Instead of expending our energy on hiding our shadows, could we devote that energy to shining the light of Christ on them? [Pause, then repeat.]

[Pause again.] The Pharisees claimed to see God’s work in the world, and yet they remained stubbornly blind. But there is hope for all of us. Not all the Pharisees remained blind. The Bible tells us of two Pharisees who gained insight into Jesus’ true identity. The story of the first Pharisee is in the Gospel of John itself – Nicodemus first came to Jesus in the dark of night, only haltingly comprehending who Jesus was. We will see him on Good Friday in the middle of the afternoon, caring for the body of the crucified Christ. The other Pharisee’s story is told in the Acts of the Apostles and the Letter to the Galatians. This Pharisee came to be Christ’s most powerful advocate, giving his entire life – both his strengths and his weaknesses – to the gospel. His name was Paul. But before Paul was able to see, he was literally struck blind for three days. 

[Pause.] When we’re brave enough to examine our shadows, we rob the darkness of its power. What we hear in the dark, we must speak in the light. We are salt for the earth. We are light for the world.

Preview photo credit: Dave Kleinschmidt under CC BY-SA 2.0 license.