Lately, I’ve made a conscious effort to avoid the news. When I scroll through social media, I quickly bypass stories and reels, moving past anything that might pull me into the weight of current events. At times, this feels necessary for self-preservation. But it also raises a deeper question: When does the search for peace turn into blindness? In shielding myself from the world’s troubles, am I also shielding myself from reality? Am I blind?
More than ever, we live in a world clouded by uncertainty. Headlines blur the lines between fact and fiction. Social media amplifies voices, but not all of them speak truth. We witness modern-day Pharisees tearing people down, valuing ideology over compassion, clinging to power rather than seeking understanding. They see, but they do not truly see.
If we are honest with ourselves, it’s not just them, it’s us. Fear, pride, and assumptions dictate our vision, making it easier to react than to listen, to dismiss than to understand. We avert our eyes from what unsettles us, hoping that by ignoring it, we might make it disappear. But blindness doesn’t erase reality, it only makes us unprepared for it.
The same question lingers in our spiritual lives. We go to church, we say the prayers, we sing the hymns. We walk out feeling renewed, ready to face the week ahead. But then Monday arrives. Do we still see Christ as we sift through emails, as we rush between tasks? Do we recognize His presence at the end of a long day, when exhaustion settles in?
Sight vs. Vision
I write this on the Sunday of the Blind Man. The story of the blind man, as told in John 9:1-38, describes how Jesus heals a man who was blind from birth. After making clay with His saliva, He places it on the man's eyes and tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam. When the man obeys, his sight is restored. The Pharisees question him, doubting the miracle and rejecting Jesus’ authority. The healed man boldly testifies to Jesus' power, recognizing Him as the Son of God.
Fr. Tom shared a quote during his sermon that struck me deeply. He made a connection to the physical blindness from the parable to spiritual vision that I had never thought of before. The quote was from Helen Keller: “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.”
The absence of this spiritual vision affects not only our own lives and choices, but the world around us. Without spiritual vision, we become blind to Christ’s presence in our daily lives. We go through the motions, but do we truly recognize Him? In our frustrations, our relationships, our responsibilities? Do we see Him in the faces of those we disagree with, or do we let division and ideology blind us?
Blindness isn’t just personal, it’s shared. When a world loses sight of the Eternal, confusion takes hold. Fear shapes what we see. Pride isolates us. Assumptions replace discernment. Instead of looking with the clarity Christ gives, we grasp at control, protecting ourselves rather than accepting truth.
Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord!
Since leaving Liturgy today I have had this song in my head “Open the Eyes of my Heart, Lord” by Paul Baloche. The lyrics go like this:
Open the eyes of my heart, Lord Open the eyes of my heart I want to see You I want to see You To see You high and lifted up Shinin' in the light of Your glory Pour out Your power and love As we sing holy, holy, holy
How do we cultivate that vision? How do we open the eyes of our hearts to see with clarity and conviction, especially in a world so determined to remain blind?
Lord, open the eyes of my heart. Open the eyes of my heart, Lord. Let me see You. Not just in the safe and familiar, but in the broken, the uncertain, and the unseen. So that when the world blinds me, I may still walk in Your light. Amen.
With Love in Christ,
Maria
Originally published in the Holy Apostles E-bulletin. Subscribe here.
