Ep 81 - Hold On to the Light

In this homily, Fr. Isaac reflects on the Gospel story of the man born blind from the Gospel of John, a powerful reminder of how faith grows through both light and darkness.

After being healed by Jesus, the man faces confusion, arguments, and pressure from religious authorities to deny what he has experienced. Yet he refuses to let go of one simple truth: he has encountered the goodness of God.

Drawing on a story shared by Fr. George Smiga, this reflection explores how personal experiences of God’s goodness can anchor faith even when others question it.

Life moves through seasons — moments when God’s presence feels clear and bright, and other times when we walk through uncertainty and doubt. Inspired by the wisdom of St. Ignatius of Loyola, this homily reminds listeners that when they are in darkness, they should hold fast to the light they have already received.

Because faith is not about seeing the whole path — it is about trusting God enough to take the next step.

Transcript

SPEAKER_02 0:09

Hello, and welcome to episode 81 of Brother from Another Father as we celebrate the fourth Sunday in Lent.

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There is a priest by the name of Father George Smiga. He belongs to the Diocese of Cleveland in Ohio in America. And he tells about an interesting conversation that he once had with his mother. Now, his mother was a simple woman, not well educated, who had grown up in Poland and had been forced to flee from Poland during the Second World War. During this time, which was a time of great upheaval, her faith had been her guiding light, her rock and her sure foundation. But during the 1970s, his mother had a kind of a crisis of faith during the implementation of the many changes that came about as a result of the Second Vatican Council. And so knowing that her son, George, was in the seminary at the time preparing to be a priest, she called him up and said, George, we need to have a conversation. So his mother began. So George, you mean to tell me that we can now eat meat on Fridays? And George said, Yes, Mummy, that's right. We can now eat meat on Fridays. And his mom said, But George, when I was growing up, the priest told us from the pulpit that if we eat meat on a Friday, even so much as a little sausage, we're going straight to how. And George said, Well, Mom, that's changed now. It was a rule of the church, but now it's changed. For context, in many dioceses in the US, they've done away with this rule that you cannot eat meat on a Friday. In this diocese, in this archdiocese and many other dioceses in this country, the rule still remains that we shouldn't eat meat on a Friday. Anyway, George's mother continues, so George, we can also receive the bread of the Eucharist on our hands now. And George said, yes, that's a permitted now, you can receive on your hands. But when I was growing up, the priest told us that if we received the Eucharist, if we touched it, even so much as with our teeth, we would go instantly to how. And George had to explain, no mom, that's changed as well. We can now touch the Eucharist with our hands. Oh well, George's mother just shook her head. So George, sensing that there was an opportunity now to tell his mother about some of the more consequential theological advances that the Second Vatican Council had introduced into the life of the church. He continued and said, And there are other changes, Mom. You know now that we as Catholics don't believe that the Jews are cut off from God. We now believe that they're not going to hell, that they also, if they live good lives like us, will go to heaven. And then George's mother said, Yes, I always believe that. And then George was a bit confused now and said, But Mom, didn't the priest used to tell you that the Jews were going to hell? Yes, of course he did. Nearly every month he told us that the Jews were going to hell. But I never believed him. So Father George was a bit confused and said, But Mom, when the priest told you that if you eat meat on Fridays, you would go to hell, you believed him. When the priest told you that if you touched the Eucharist with your hands, you would go to hell, you believed him also. But when the priest told you the Jews were going to hell, you didn't believe him. Why was that? So Father George's mum gave it some thought and after a second said, Well, do you know? Because we lived with the Jews, they were our neighbors. And one day when my mother, your grandmother, got sick, she was very sick, and our neighbor who was a Jew came to me and said, Hi, Mrs. Meeger, give this chicken soup to your mom. And if she eats it every day, she will recover. And sure enough, your grandmother and my mom, after eating that chicken soup, got well again. And every time my mom would see that woman in the market, she would point to her and say, This is the lady who saved my life. So, no, I don't believe that God can send such people to hell. I think this story illustrates something important for us. That sometimes when we have an experience of the goodness of God, a personal experience of the goodness of God, no matter what anyone else tells us, we hold on to that truth. It's a central truth and it guides our lives. In today's gospel, we see a man who is healed by Jesus. The Pharisees then try to convince him that Jesus is a sinner, that he should give praise to God for his healing, but that he should not follow Jesus. But this man has had an experience, an encounter with the goodness of God in Jesus. And he is so sure that even though these people that he respects, these religious authorities, are telling him that this man is a sinner, he refuses to believe them. He holds on fast to this central truth, that Jesus is a good man, and through Jesus I have experienced the mercy and healing of God. This gospel that we've heard today can be divided into three parts. In the first part, we have Jesus announcing that he is the light of the world, and he brings light to this man who was born blind. That's the first part. Then Jesus disappears from the scene. He goes off stage, and as Jesus disappears, it's like the light disappears, and the scene is plunged into darkness. And for the next few scenes in the gospel, there will be confusion. There will be arguments. Who healed this man? Is this the man who was born blind? Yes, it's him. No, it's not him, he just looks like him. Who healed this man? Was it Jesus? Or was it somebody else? Is this man a sinner? Yes, he's a sinner because he healed on the Sabbath. But how can someone who healed on the Sabbath actually be a sinner? There's just a whole lot of confusion. Then Jesus comes back on the scene and meets the man again and leads this man to the fullness of faith. The light suddenly comes back on, and this man is now led to confess Jesus, not as a prophet, which he began with, but he now sees Jesus as his Lord and his Messiah and is led to the fullness of the truth. I think this gospel is a microcosm, a symbol of our lives. Each of us can point to a time in our lives when we were so sure that God was acting in our lives. We had an intense experience of the goodness of God, of God saving us, God rescuing us, God ministering to us. It was like the light was shining and everything was clear for us. And then there are times in our lives when we walk in darkness, when we're confused, when we wonder, what is the right way to go? When we wonder, where is God? When we wonder, why is this happening to me? Why am I suffering? And we're walking in the darkness. And it's critical there to see how we respond when we're in the darkness. Saint Ignatius tells us that when we're in the darkness, when we're in a time of desolation, we should not give up hope. We should remember that consolation will return. The light will return. And while we are in the darkness, we shouldn't make any changes. We most of all shouldn't make any decisions in a time of desolation. We should remain faithful and wait on God. Wait for the light to return, as it surely will. The parents of this man born blind give us a very good example of what we should not do during a time of darkness. The parents of this man born blind are asked by the Pharisees, tell us how your son was healed. And in fear, they take the coward's way out. And they say, Well, we don't know how he got healed. He's of age. Ask him. They respond in fear, they refuse to stand up for Jesus. Crucially, they don't even want to meet Jesus. They want to stay far away from something they perceive will bring them into problems. I wonder if these parents of this man born blind live to regret that decision that they took out of fear. If they ever encountered the vibrancy of the Christian movement and wished that they had stood up for Jesus on that day and actually taken the chance to meet Jesus. Often, when we make decisions ruled by fear in our lives, we live to regret those decisions. The man born blind gives us a good example of how we are to respond in a time of darkness. Namely, to hold on to that experience of God, that first experience where God touched our lives. He holds on to it. He says, This man healed me. He must be from God. He must be good. I refuse to let you convince me that he is evil and that he is a sinner. And because this man is able to hold on to this experience, to this central truth, Jesus revisits him, Jesus comes back with the light and then invites him to a fullness of faith. Do you know who the Son of Man is? No, tell me that I may believe in him. It is me, it is I. Lord, I believe. In our own lives and in our world today, we're living in a time of great uncertainty. There was a time, I think, when we thought that as a world we were moving towards greater peace, a greater integration. There was a time, I think, when Russia invaded Ukraine that we were all shocked that our world has been plunged into war again. Now, as Trump invades Iran and causes chaos in the Middle East, it's almost as if war has become commonplace. There are so many values that we took as being solid, concrete values, inviable, that have now been questioned and thrown out the window. And we're wondering, where is our world going? It's at these times of uncertainty that we need to hold on fast to the goodness of God. We need to profess our faith as Christians and know that the light may have been dimmed for a little while, but it shall surely come back. I'd like to end with a beautiful hymn by a saint. He's an English saint, John Henry Newman. And the hymn is called Lead Kindly Light. Lead Kindly Light amid the encircling gloom. Lead thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home. Lead thou me on. Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see the distance scene. One step, enough for me. I was not ever thus nor prayed that thou shouldst lead me on. I love to choose my own path, but now lead thou me on. I loved the garish day and spite of fears, pride ruled my will. Remember not past years. So long thy power hath blessed me. Sure it still will lead me on, or Moor and Fen or Crag and Torrent, till the night is gone, and with the morning those angel faces smile, which I have loved long since.

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And lost a while. God bless, and have a good Sunday!