“I Once Was Blind”: Humility and Spiritual Sight
St. John 9:1-38
In this homily on the healing of the man born blind, Father Anthony reflects on how Christ not only gives sight, but gradually heals the whole person. Though baptism opens our eyes to the truth of God and His Kingdom, we still struggle to see clearly through the distortions of pride, fear, anger, and self-justification. The path to true spiritual sight is therefore not certainty or condemnation, but humility, repentance, patience, and trust in the One who already reigns over the world. Enjoy the show!
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Today’s Gospel shows us two very important things about the Christ to whom we have given our lives: that He has compassion for human suffering, and that He has the power to heal it.
The man in today’s Gospel was not born partially blind. He was born completely blind. And Christ gives him sight so that we may trust not only His love for us, but His power to remake us and remake the world.
Saint John tells us why these signs were given:
“Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing, you may have life in His name.”
The miracles are not spectacles. They are revelations. They show us who Christ is, and they show us what He desires to do with us.
There is also a symbolic meaning to this miracle, and here we should remember the words of the Lord from the Gospel according to Saint Matthew:
“The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is sound, your whole body will be full of light.”
Now, growing up in Georgia, every time I hear this Gospel, I hear that hymn:
“I once was blind, but now I see.”
And that is true for us. That is why that hymn resonates so deeply within our souls.
Through baptism and chrismation, through union with Christ, through life in His Church, we have been given new eyes. For the first time, glory to God, we begin to see reality as it truly is. We begin to see God not as an abstraction, but as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We begin to see that life has meaning, that even suffering can become holy, that love is stronger even than death, and that the Cross is not defeat but victory.
But we also know something else.
Even after receiving sight, glory to God for opening our eyes, we do not yet see clearly.
As Saint Paul says, we still see “through a mirror dimly.” And like the man healed in stages, sometimes we only “see men like trees walking.”
Why?
Because salvation is not magic.
The Lord does not simply wave away every wound, every distortion, every habit of pride and fear the moment we come to Him.
Yes, baptism gives us eyes, but the healing of the whole person takes time.
Our minds were created to resonate, to be in harmony with God, but sin twists the strings out of tune. And alas, we do not only suffer from our own sins; we inherit confusion from a world that itself has forgotten how to see clearly.
And so we live in a very difficult place. We have received sight. We have seen the light. But we are still learning how to see.
Worse than this, we are learning alongside other people whose vision is also wounded.
The world tells us that confidence is clarity, that loudness is wisdom, that certainty is discernment.
But often it is the opposite that is true.
As Proverbs warns us:
“There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.”
The proud man thinks he sees everything so clearly, but the humble man knows that he still needs healing.
And this is where today’s Gospel becomes painfully relevant to us.
When we recognize that our sight is imperfect, humility teaches us to move carefully.
How quickly we assume we understand another person’s motives. How quickly we justify our own anger. How quickly we become certain that we are right and others are blind.
But the fathers warn us: the blind cannot heal blindness, and if the blind lead the blind, both fall into the ditch.
This is why humility is so important.
Humility, unlike the world tries to tell us, is not weakness. Humility does not involve pretending that evil is good. Humility is not refusing to act when action is needed.
Humility is the recognition that our own vision is still being healed.
Humility acts as the pause that short-circuits the line between fallen instinct and sinful action: the pause between offense and judgment, the pause that protects us from self-justification and allows us time for repentance.
Humility says:
“I may not understand this completely.”
“My passions may be distorting what I see.”
“My fears may be speaking louder than wisdom.”
“My ego may be disguising itself as righteousness.”
Along with humility comes another necessary thing: trust.
Because one of the hardest things for us is accepting that redemption does not depend upon our control.
We are not the saviors of the world.
Christ already reigns over the world.
We feel pressure to judge every situation perfectly, to interpret every motive, to solve every conflict, to prove ourselves good and righteous.
But God knows us. He does not require omniscience from us.
What does He require?
We hear it again and again in the Gospel of Saint John:
He requires faithfulness.
The Lord who opened the eyes of the blind man is still at work healing His people.
How is this healing accomplished?
He has given us the means of healing:
prayer,
scripture,
confession,
communion,
acts of mercy,
holy friendships,
holy marriage,
parish life shaped by patience,
forbearance,
and love.
And over time, this healing gains traction.
Little by little, the light grows clearer.
Little by little, our vision is healed.
Little by little, the knots of pride, fear, anger, and confusion are loosened.
And as this healing takes place within us, the parish itself becomes a place of light: a place unlike the world, where people are not devoured by judgment; a place where people are not moved by manipulation; a place where weakness is met with patience; a place where vulnerability is met with gentleness; a place where repentance and true change are possible; a place where Christ is visible.
The Lord has given us eyes.
Once we were blind, but now we begin to see.
What do we see?
We see the Lord’s mercy.
We see the Lord’s Cross.
We see the Lord’s love for mankind.
We see, glory to God, the path of salvation.
And now along that way, the work of healing continues:
not through pride,
not through condemnation,
not through the illusion of our own righteousness,
but through humility,
patience,
repentance,
and trust in God.
May the Lord who opened the eyes of the man born blind also heal the vision of our hearts, so that we may learn to see ourselves, one another, and the whole world in the light of His love.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
