One Thing I Know
A Reflection on the Sunday of the Blind Man
Sunday of the Blind man- (Acts §38 (16:16-34) / Saint John §34 (9:1-38)).
Beloved in Christ,
As Paschaltide draws toward its close, the Holy Church sets before us once again a most profound and human encounter: the healing of the man born blind. In the midst of this lengthy reading, few words pierce the soul more deeply than the healed man’s simple, unadorned confession:
“One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.”
In this simple declaration, we find not the language of a theologian, a philosopher, a scribe, or an academic. It is the plain speech of a man whose life has just been utterly transformed by Christ. Herein lies the enduring power of this Sunday’s lesson.
The tragedy of the Pharisees in today’s Gospel was not their lack of religion, learning, or zeal. They knew the Law. They knew the traditions. They knew the proper structures, the authorized ways, and who was respectable. Yet when God Himself stood before them and opened the eyes of a man born blind, they could not recognize Him. Their concept of religion had become for them a substitute for true sight.
Think on it. The blind man possessed none of the advantages of the Pharisees. He had no status to speak of, no education, no authority. He was a beggar, passed by daily without notice. Yet in the end, he saw clearly while the learned and pious remained in darkness.
The Pharisees demanded explanations: “How did He do this? Who gave Him authority? This man is a sinner.” The healed man offered no elaborate defense, no system, no credentials. He simply answered: “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.”
And that is precisely how living a true and living faith begins: not with mastery of arguments or systems, but with genuine encounter. A man may not yet grasp every doctrine. A woman may stumble over hard questions. Yet they know this: “I was one thing before Christ; now I am another.” Such testimony carries immense power. The world can argue against theories and it can mock institutions, but it struggles mightily against a transformed life.
Observe the beauty of the healed man’s journey. Under pressure, his confession deepens step by step: “The man called Jesus…” to, “He is a prophet,” to, “If this man were not from God, He could do nothing,” and finally, “I believe, Lord.” He receives not only physical sight but spiritual sight. His eyes, his understanding, and his courage open gradually.
Meanwhile, the Pharisees sink deeper into blindness. This remains one of the most sobering warnings in the Gospel: it is possible to believe oneself very religious and yet to be spiritually blind. One may know the words of Scripture and fail to recognize Christ. One may defend one’s perceptions while resisting God Himself. Attachment to appearances, structures, factions, and earthly prestige can blind a soul to Truth standing plainly before it.
The blind man saw because he was humble. The Pharisees remained blind because of pride.
When the healed man refused to deny the truth, they cast him out. This is the way of the world. Weakness and silence may be tolerated, but clarity and bold confession threaten the established order. Yet the Gospel reveals something radiant: “Jesus heard that they had cast him out: and when He had found him…” Christ seeks the outcast. The world rejects; Christ draws near.
In our own day, many souls are exhausted and blinded by confusion, endless noise, ideology, novelty, and bitterness. Many fear to speak plainly what they see, lest they face rejection, ridicule, or loss of standing. The parents of the blind man knew a miracle had occurred, yet “they feared the jews.” How often this repeats today: fear of being called backward, strange, uneducated, or “outside.”
But the healed man did not stay silent. He spoke simply, honestly, without sophistication: “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.”
This is the confession our confused age still desperately needs: not arrogance, not quarrels, not worldly triumphalism, but the clear witness of a soul illumined by Christ. Our Lord did not come to produce experts in pseudoreligious sophistry. He came to open the eyes of mankind.
As Paschaltide moves toward its fulfillment, the Church places this question before each of us: What still blinds us? Pride? Fear? Anger? Factionalism? Worldliness? Love of comfort and approval? Distraction? What have we refused to see because true sight would demand repentance?
And where has Christ already opened our eyes… yet we hesitate to confess it openly?
May the Lord grant us the humility of the blind man. May He open our eyes to see clearly in these darkening times. And may we, with simplicity and gratitude, be able to say from the heart: “One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.”
17 May 2026