Fourth Sunday of Lent – 15 March 2026
The readings of this Fourth Sunday of Lent centre on the theme of seeing. In the Gospel of Gospel of John we encounter the story of the man born blind. It is a story not only about physical sight being restored, but about a deeper vision that opens slowly within the human heart.
In times like our own, that theme takes on particular urgency. In these days our world is again confronted with the tragedy of war in the Middle East, especially in the growing conflict involving Iran and its neighbours. Images of destruction, fear, and suffering reach us daily. It is easy for our vision of the world to become clouded by despair, anger, or helplessness. Yet the Gospel reminds us that Christian faith is always about learning to see more deeply — to see not only what is broken, but also what God is still bringing to birth even in the midst of darkness.
It reminds me of a story. There was once an ancient tribe whose leader was approaching the end of his life. Knowing that the future of his people depended on wise leadership, he summoned three young members of the community.
“When I die,” he told them, “one of you must succeed me. Go out into the world and bring back something beautiful. The one whose gift is most outstanding will become the leader of our people.”
The three set out across the countryside and through the city where their people lived. Some days later they returned.
The first brought a rare and delicate flower from the parklands—beautiful and fragile, something that required great care. The second brought a stone from the river that flowed through the city—smooth and colourful, polished by rain and sand and time.
The third returned with empty hands. “Wise leader,” he said, “I have brought nothing back. I stood on the hill overlooking our countryside and I marvelled at the beauty around us. I breathed the fresh air. I listened to the birds. I watched the sun set and the pale moon rise. When I walked through our city, I saw our people—rich and poor, young and old. Some were laughing with friends; others sat alone. And as I looked at all this, I began to imagine what could be for our people. I was so overwhelmed by the vision of what might be that I returned with nothing.” The old leader smiled and said, “You shall lead our people, because you have brought back the greatest gift of all: a vision for the future.”
That story speaks about something profoundly important in the life of faith: the ability to see possibility. The Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote a remarkable prayer: “If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the possible… Pleasure disappoints, possibility never. And what wine is so sparkling, so fragrant, so intoxicating as possibility!”
To recover a sense of possibility in our lives is one of the great signs of the presence of the Holy Spirit.
The Spirit of God opens our eyes. The Spirit enables us to see differently. The Spirit awakens in us the awareness that things do not have to remain as they are. We do not have to stay trapped on the treadmill of habit or confined within the narrow ruts created by fear, failure, or diminished imagination.
In a world that often seems locked into cycles of violence and retaliation, the Spirit reminds us that history is not closed. The future is not predetermined by conflict. Even when nations stand opposed and weapons speak louder than reason, God continues to sow seeds of reconciliation in the human heart. The Spirit breaks open the familiar and the complacent. The Spirit rekindles our dreams and reignites hope. The Spirit leads us out of the narrow spaces into which we may have confined ourselves and opens before us wide horizons of life—life in greater abundance.
This is precisely what happens in today’s Gospel. At the beginning of the story, the man is blind. By the end, he sees. Yet strangely, those who thought they could see—the religious authorities—remain blind. Because the deepest blindness is not of the eyes but of the heart. Jesus does not simply restore sight; he reveals a new way of seeing. He shows that God is already at work, bringing light where people assumed there could only be darkness.
That is also the grace offered to us during this season of Lent as we journey toward the celebration of Easter. Lent invites us to look again—to see ourselves, our relationships, and our world in a new way. It invites us to discover that God is already preparing possibilities we may not yet have imagined.
Lord, touch our eyes, as you touched the eyes of the blind man in today’s Gospel. Open them that we might see the promise of a new future always possible through your presence among us. May we see with the eyes of faith. May we live with the courage of hope. And may we always recognise the new possibilities that your Spirit is opening before us — even in a world wounded by war, yet still held within your promise of peace.
