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From Blindness to Light: The Path of Faith in the Gospel of the Man Born Blind

The commentary on the Gospel for the fourth Sunday of Lent, written by Friar Luciano Audisio, reflects on the healing of the man born blind in the Gospel of Saint John and the spiritual meaning of faith as a new way of seeing life in the light of Christ.
A pair of sunglasses on the beach with the reflection of the sunset

The commentary on the Gospel for this fourth Sunday of Lent, prepared by Friar Luciano Audisio, OAR, leads us to one of the most profound narratives in the Gospel of Saint John: the healing of the man born blind. More than a simple miracle, the evangelist presents a sign that reveals who Jesus is and what the true illumination of the human being is. On this Lenten journey, the Gospel invites us to recognize our own blindness and to allow Christ, the light of the world, to open our eyes.

The Sign of the Man Born Blind

The Gospel for this fourth Sunday of Lent presents one of the most profound narratives in the Gospel of John: the healing of the man born blind. This is not simply a miracle, but a sign—that is, an action that reveals something much deeper about Jesus and about ourselves.

This narrative appears in chapter 9 of the Gospel of John and forms part of the seven signs that structure the first half of the gospel. These signs prepare the reader to understand the great event of Easter: the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. In them, the evangelist attempts to anticipate and show, through concrete images and gestures, the mystery of the new life that Christ brings to the world.

In the early centuries of Christianity, this passage held enormous importance. It was read during preparation for baptism, when catechumens approached the Easter Vigil. These catechumens were called illuminandi, that is, “those who were to be illuminated,” because baptism was understood as a true illumination: the moment when a person opens their eyes for the first time to the light of Christ.

Therefore, the narrative of the man born blind does not speak only of a man who regains his sight. It speaks of all of us.

Jesus Recreates the Human Being

The gospel begins with a very significant verb: Jesus passes by (παράγω). As he passes, the text says that he saw (εἶδεν) a man blind from birth. This detail is very important. Jesus not only sees a specific person, but in that man he contemplates the condition of all humanity. The evangelist emphasizes that he was blind from birth (ἐκ γενετῆς). It is a very powerful image: the human being, by himself, cannot fully see the profound meaning of life.

Our greatest blindness is not physical. It is spiritual. Many times we fail to recognize what is most important: that the meaning of life lies in love that gives itself. And it is precisely toward that love that Jesus directs himself on his path to the passion.

Then something surprising happens. Jesus spits on the ground, makes mud, and places it on the blind man’s eyes. At first glance the gesture may seem strange, but it has a very profound meaning. The mud immediately takes us back to the book of Genesis, where God forms the human being from the dust of the earth and breathes into him the breath of life. In a certain way, Jesus is recreating man. He is performing a new creation.

Then he tells the blind man to go wash in the pool of Siloam, a name that means “the Sent One.” The evangelist himself explains it: that name points to Jesus, the true Sent One of the Father. The man washes and begins to see. But the true miracle has not yet ended.

From that moment a discussion begins with the Pharisees. The problem is not that the man has been healed. The problem is that Jesus performed this sign on the Sabbath. The Sabbath was the day that commemorated the fullness of creation. For the Pharisees, healing on the Sabbath was a transgression.

But here a profound truth appears: the true fullness of creation is being able to see Christ. The human being was created to recognize God, to find in Him the meaning of his life. However, the Pharisees, who physically see, cannot recognize what they have before their eyes. The gospel thus shows a paradox: the one who was blind begins to see, and those who believe they see remain in blindness.

The narrative reaches its culminating moment when the healed man is expelled by the religious leaders. They say to him with contempt: “You were born completely in sin, and are you going to teach us?” And the text says they threw him out.

This detail is very significant, because it anticipates what will happen to Jesus himself. He too will be rejected and expelled. The man who has been healed already begins to share the destiny of Christ.

Faith as a New Way of Seeing

But then something beautiful happens: Jesus comes back to find him. And in that final encounter the man not only sees with the eyes of the body. He recognizes who Jesus is. His healing becomes faith.

Here is the heart of today’s Gospel. Faith is a new way of seeing. It is not only accepting certain truths. It is receiving a new perspective on reality.

Saint Cyril of Jerusalem said that faith is like a vision of the heart, a way of perceiving the invisible. When we believe, something changes in our way of looking at the world. As if our “spiritual retina” were transformed.

That is why this Gospel is profoundly Lenten. Lent is a journey of illumination. It is a time in which Christ wants to open our eyes.

Perhaps we too have many forms of blindness: blindness to the suffering of others, to the love of God, to the profound meaning of our life. But the Gospel reminds us today of something very consoling: Jesus passes by, looks at us, and wants to recreate us.

And the true miracle is not only seeing with the eyes. The true miracle is coming to recognize Christ as the light of our life. Because when that happens, then everything begins to be seen in a different way. Then the light of Easter begins, even now.

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