Fourth Sunday of Lent - Laetare Sunday

Samuel arrives at Jesse's house to anoint a king. He sees the firstborn - tall, commanding - and thinks: surely this is the one. God says: stop looking at appearances. I see differently. Seven sons pass. None is chosen. The eighth - the youngest, out with the sheep, not even called to the gathering - is the one. David.

God's vision is not human vision. This has always been true and it remains disorienting every time.

The man born blind in John's Gospel didn't choose to be healed. Jesus chose him. The disciples' question - who sinned, this man or his parents? - reflects the human instinct to explain suffering by assigning blame. Jesus refuses the framework. Neither sinned. This happened so the works of God might be made visible.

Then Jesus does something extraordinary: he makes clay and anoints the man's eyes. The echo of Genesis is deliberate. God formed man from clay in the beginning. Here Christ forms sight from clay - a new creation. Go wash in the Pool of Siloam. The man obeys. He sees.

What follows is a masterpiece of progressive blindness. The Pharisees - the religious experts who should recognize God at work - grow more blind with every scene. They question the man. They question his parents. They deny the miracle. They throw the man out. The person who was physically blind sees more clearly with every passing verse. The people who were always sighted see less and less.

In the evening of life, this Gospel holds a particular grace. You may feel that your best years are behind you - that your vision is failing, your energy fading, your influence diminishing. But David was chosen when nobody was looking. The blind man was healed when he wasn't asking. God's greatest work often happens in the margins, in the overlooked, in the people the world has stopped consulting.

Paul writes: you were once darkness, but now you are light. Live as children of light. And then the ancient baptismal hymn: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light." This was sung over catechumens as they came up from the water. It is sung over you every time you remember your own baptism.

Laetare Sunday is a pause for joy. The rose vestments say: the darkness is real, but it is not the last word. The Good Shepherd leads through the dark valley. His rod and staff give courage. Goodness and kindness follow all the days of your life. All of them. Including these.