Homily 4th Sunday of Lent Year A I Homily 15 March 2026 Year A

1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41

My dear friends today we celebrate the Fourth Sunday of Lent in Year A also known as

Laetare Sunday. The readings challenge us to ask not just what we see, but how we

see—others, ourselves, and God at work among us.

The first reading taken from the book of 1 Samuel comes at a turning point in Israel’s

history. Saul, the first king of Israel, had failed to remain faithful to God. So, the Lord

sent the prophet Samuel to Bethlehem to anoint a new king from the sons of Jesse. At

this time, kingship was still new in Israel, and people expected a king to look strong, tall,

and impressive—like Saul. When Samuel sees Jesse’s older sons, he assumes that the

tallest and strongest must be God’s chosen one. But God corrects him with words that

lie at the heart of this reading: “The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the

outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” David, the youngest, one not

even considered important enough to be present there is chosen by God. Samuel

anoints him, and the Spirit of the Lord comes upon him. God sees in David a heart that

is open, trusting, and willing to grow—even though David is young, hidden, and

imperfect.

This reading brings a message of hope and encouragement. Lent invites us to look

honestly at ourselves, not just at how we appear on the outside. Like Samuel, we judge

by looks—success, status, image—but God probes deeper, seeing our hidden motives

and faithfulness in small things. The overlooked become chosen, mirroring Christ's

humble kingship. This passage reminds us that God’s light shines where we least

expect it. In a world obsessed with exteriors let us embrace inner transformation for true

service. As Lent leads us toward Easter, we are called to trust that God is at work within

us, shaping our hearts, even when our lives seem quiet or hidden—just as God was

quietly preparing David for something greater.

In the second reading taken from the letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians, St. Paul

reminds the Christians in Ephesus who they truly are in Christ. Paul does not say they

were in darkness, but that they were darkness—showing how deeply sin and ignorance

once shaped their lives. But through Christ, their identity has changed completely. They

are now people of light. Because they are light, Paul urges them to “live as children of

light.” Light produces goodness, righteousness, and truth. This means a Christian life

should reflect honesty, compassion, and justice. Paul also warns against taking part in

the “fruitless works of darkness”—actions that harm others or ourselves and lead us

away from God. Instead of hiding such deeds, light exposes them and brings healing.

Light in this passage is not meant to shame, but to transform. When light shines, things

become visible so they can be changed. This is why Paul says that even darkness can

become light when it is exposed. The short hymn at the end invites believers to wake up 

from complacency, sin, or indifference and allow Christ to shine into their lives. For us

today, this reading is a gentle but strong reminder. Faith is not only about avoiding

darkness but about actively living in the light. When we choose forgiveness over anger,

truth over lies, and love over selfishness, Christ’s light shines through us—and others

are drawn to Him.

Remember back in school when we solved math problems? It wasn’t enough to get the

final answer right. We had to follow each step exactly as the teacher had taught us.

Every step carried marks, and only if we followed the method perfectly did we get full

marks. Sometimes, even if our answer was correct, we were penalized simply because

we did not follow the expected steps. In a way, we were punished for being

different—penalized for not fitting neatly into the system or the accepted norms. The

Gospel taken from John sheds light on a society where rules and systems matter more

to some people than truth, healing, and the human person. Jesus meets a man who

was blind from birth. The disciples immediately ask a theological question: “Who

sinned?” They want to explain suffering. Jesus shifts the focus away from blame and

towards God’s work of healing. He restores the man’s sight, showing that God’s light is

stronger than darkness. But the real drama begins after the healing. The Pharisees are

more disturbed by how the healing happened than by the fact that a man can now see.

Jesus healed on the Sabbath, and they are obsessed with the law being broken. Their

hearts are hardened. They are so focused on proving Jesus wrong that they fail to

rejoice in a human life restored. The Gospel contrasts light and darkness, sight and

blindness. Ironically, the man who was physically blind begins to see clearly—not just

with his eyes, but with faith. Step by step, he grows in courage and truth, finally

confessing belief in Jesus. On the other hand, those who claim to see—the

Pharisees—become more blind. Their stubbornness, fear of losing control, and anger

close their minds.

The Gospel is not only about the blindness of the Pharisees long ago; it is also a mirror

held up to us today. It is easy to criticize the Pharisees for their rigidity, but their attitude

can quietly enter our own hearts. We, too, can become more concerned about rules,

procedures, and appearances than about the person standing before us. Sometimes in

our families, workplaces, or even in parish life, we label people by their past mistakes

and refuse to see how God may be working in them now. We may say, “People don’t

change,” or “This is not how things are done,” and in doing so, we close ourselves to

grace. Like the Pharisees, we may be sincere and religious, yet blind to the living

presence of God in front of us. Jesus challenges this mindset. For Him, the Sabbath

exists for healing, not for condemnation. The law exists to serve life, not to suffocate it.

When rules become more important than compassion, we risk losing the heart of the

Gospel. This passage invites us to ask ourselves: Where have we become rigid? Whom

have we already judged? Are there people we have written off without giving them a 

second chance? Lent is the time to allow Jesus to touch these blind spots in us. True

faith is not about proving that we are right, but about learning to love as God loves. The

good news is this: blindness is not the final word. Jesus still opens eyes—especially

hearts willing to change. May we leave today not just seeing better—but loving better.

May God bless us all.