Sunday of the Man Born Blind

Acts 16:16-34; John 9:1-38

In today’s Gospel, we encounter a man who has been blind from the moment of his birth. And the disciples, echoing a common assumption of the time, ask: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” But Jesus explains that “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him” (Jn 9:2–3).

Jesus teaches us that suffering is not always the result of sin. Sometimes, as St. John Chrysostom explains, suffering is permitted for the sake of God’s glory. This man’s affliction becomes the occasion not for condemnation, but for the revelation of Christ as Light of the World. God’s plan for this man was that his blindness not remain permanent. The man’s blindness was the means by which he would be healed, convert, confess Christ, and ultimately worship God.

Jesus heals in a very sacramental manner. He spits on the ground, makes clay, and anoints the man’s eyes—then sends him to wash in the Pool of Siloam. As St. Irenaeus notes, Christ uses the very earth from which man was formed, signaling a new creation. And St. Augustine adds that “Siloam,” which means “Sent,” points to Christ Himself, the One sent by the Father, and to the waters of baptism, which wash away the blindness of sin and restore spiritual vision.

But notice something else: the man is not healed instantaneously. There is a process that he must obey. His journey begins in darkness and unfolds gradually. He begins by saying, “The man called Jesus opened my eyes.” Then he professes, “He is a prophet.” Finally, when Christ reveals Himself as the Son of Man, the man responds with full faith: “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped Him (Jn 9:38). St. Cyril of Alexandria says this is the pattern of true conversion: first obedience, then recognition, then full confession and worship.

We see a parallel movement in Acts 16. Paul and Silas, though beaten and imprisoned, are seen sing hymns of joy. Their heroic bravery and faith became the occasion of their witness. Then God sends an earthquake—not to punish the jailor but the create an avenue of mercy for him. The earthquake not only opens the prison but opens the heart of the jailer who cries out, “What must I do to be saved?” And the answer is the same: “Believe in the Lord Jesus” and follow the Way. And that night, he and his household are baptized. He passes from fear to faith, from mortal danger to life.

This is the logic of grace: suffering often disposes the soul to conversion and worship. What seems like a loss becomes a path to salvation.

It is the same for us. Each of us begins in darkness, each of us is summoned by Christ, and each of us is called to worship. The final goal is not simply to see, but to fall down and say, “Lord, I believe,” and worship Him.

And in the Divine Liturgy, we do exactly that. Let us joyfully embrace our sufferings and adore Christ in the Eucharist. The same Christ who opened the eyes of the blind man wants to open our hearts to the light of truth. Let us come to Him in humility. Let us allow our wounds to become an opportunity to receive His grace. Let us allow our afflictions to lead us to adoration. Amen.