Fourth Sunday of Lent

1. Lectio

(John 9:1-41 — The Man Born Blind)

Jesus encounters a man blind from birth, and the disciples ask the sort of question that always sounds intelligent until Christ answers it:

“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Jesus replies with the sort of answer that turns the whole world upside down:

“Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him.”

Jesus makes clay, places it on the man’s eyes, sends him to wash in the Pool of Siloam, and the man returns able to see.

Yet the miracle creates more blindness than sight. The Pharisees argue, neighbors doubt, and even the man’s parents hesitate to speak plainly out of fear.

The once-blind man alone stands firm:

“One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.”

And in the end, it is he—the supposed sinner—who sees Christ most clearly.

The creators and developers of AI models are invited to practice transparency and socially responsibility in regard to the design principles and moderation systems underlying their algorithms and the models they develop, in order to promote informed consent on the part of users.

A possible alliance

If the Centennial pillar of Communion calls me to relationships rooted in truth and trust, what responsibility do I have as a digital citizen and as one formed by my parents—am I seeking transparency and informed consent in the technologies I use, or am I allowing hidden algorithms to shape the way I encounter and relate to others?

2. Meditatio

This Gospel makes me think about parents in a way that Hollywood accidentally stumbled upon this year.

I began the Oscar season thinking I wanted a film about speed, heroism, and masculine redemption. I thought the Formula One movie would satisfy that appetite for roaring engines and roaring egos. But Providence—or poor streaming availability—sent me wandering through films about flawed men and women who stumble into something far more dangerous than racing: becoming parents.

Hollywood rarely admits it, but the arrival of a child has the peculiar habit of turning sinners into saints—or at least into sinners who suddenly try harder.

A man may gamble away his fortune, destroy friendships, and wreck his career without blinking. But hand him a newborn and suddenly he becomes a philosopher of diapers and a theologian of midnight feedings.

The Oscars this year seem to have stumbled upon that uncomfortable truth: parenthood redeems people in spite of themselves.

And this Gospel quietly whispers the same thing.

The disciples begin by suspecting the parents.
Someone must be to blame.

That is the human instinct: if something is broken, someone must have sinned.

But Christ refuses the accusation entirely.

He does not say the parents are guilty.
He does not even say the blindness is tragic.

He says something infinitely stranger:

“This happened so that the works of God might be made visible.”

Which means that sometimes the story of a child—blind, difficult, inconvenient, or unexpected—is not a punishment for parents but a revelation for them.

Parents often think they are forming their children.

But in reality, children are quietly forming their parents.

And if Hollywood accidentally noticed this truth while chasing Oscar gold, perhaps the Church has known it all along.

3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)

Chesterton once remarked that the most extraordinary thing about children is not that they depend on their parents—but that parents depend on their children to learn how to love properly.

Children are the great schoolmasters of humility.

They expose the illusion that adults understand life. They interrupt our schedules, dismantle our plans, and ruin our furniture—only to rebuild our hearts in the process.

The blind man’s parents feared the synagogue authorities and refused to speak boldly. Their fear is painfully human.

But their son—once blind—sees Christ.

And the paradox appears:

The child ends up teaching the adults.

That, perhaps, is the secret miracle of parenthood.

Parents think they are raising children.

But God is quietly raising parents.

4. Oratio

5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality

In the absence of objective truths or sound principles other than the satisfaction of our own desires and immediate needs, what limits can be placed on human trafficking, organized crime, the drug trade, commerce in blood diamonds and the fur of endangered species? Is it not the same relativistic logic which justifies buying the organs of the poor for resale or use in experimentation, or eliminating children because they are not what their parents wanted?

Laudato si’ §123

This week I will practice synodality at home—listening before speaking, learning before judging, and remembering that parents and children grow together.

Communion begins not in grand assemblies, but around ordinary family tables.

6. Song Pairing 🎵

🎶 “Cat’s in the Cradle” – Harry Chapin🎵

7. Movie Pairing 🎬

🎬Movie: “Sinners” (2025)

My Story

• Bishop Matthiesen, who rode the white horse of public activism even as he brought abusive priests into our diocese such as John Salazar—wounds that still mark us today. I spoke with him often, pleading with him to reconsider his “no regrets” about bringing those priests here…
• Bishop Yanta, who sought to enforce the Dallas Charter even when Bishop Matthiesen resisted him, and who bore the personal and pastoral cost of doing so. I met with Bishop Yanta about Bishop Matthiessen’s “no regrets” stance. He listened. He believed me. He acted where he could. And when he retired, he urged me—quietly but firmly—to keep speaking out.
• Bishop Zurek, who told the Diocese of Amarillo he had “no facts” about the Philadelphia report even as Amarillo’s connection to that tragedy was headline news. When I continued to speak out, as Bishop Yanta had once urged me to do, he later wrote that I was not among the faithful and loyal disciples whom the Lord Jesus desires.
• Bishop Daniel Cardinal DiNardo…

While we recognize your thoughtful suggestion for a renewed dialogue on Bishop Matthiesen, the present circumstances do not present an opportunity for it. I think it would foster division not dialogue. We remain confident in God’s providence and hopeful for what the future may bring.

from a letter dated March 5, 2026