TEXT: Fourth Sunday of Lent, March 15, 2026
March 15, 2026 Father De Celles Homily
4th Sunday of Lent
March 15, 2026
Homily by Fr. John De Celles
St. Raymond of Peñafort Catholic Church
Springfield, VA
Ever since the first Good Friday 2000 years ago,
the Cross and the suffering of Jesus
have been the focus of constant meditation and veneration by the Church.
We continue this tradition today, as we observe the season of Lent,
40 days and nights of meditation on the Cross of Jesus,
in preparation for the remembrance of the days
of His death and of His resurrection.
Lent is full of constant reminders of the Cross and the suffering of Jesus.
For example,
we begin the season on Ash Wednesday
with the cross of ashes on our foreheads;
all during Lent we do the Stations of the Cross;
and we end Lent on Good Friday
with the solemn veneration of the Cross.
But perhaps the most vivid reminders of the Cross in Lent
are the small sacrifices we make,
the things we “give up” for Lent.
Each one of these is a reminder of the pain and suffering of Christ, of the Cross.
We are, truly, following our Lord’s admonition:
“Take up your cross and follow me.”
But some might rightly ask, “Why do we need these small crosses
—our Lenten sacrifices—
when we all have large crosses in everyday life?”
All of us have crosses we carry—some small and some huge.
Maybe we, or someone we love, has a serious illness.
Maybe we’re estranged from family.
Maybe we’re struggling in school with grades or with friends.
Or maybe we struggle with mental illness or disordered attractions.
It could be a million different things.
In today’s Gospel we find a man who’s carried a heavy cross all his life:
the man born blind.
And because of his blindness, he also had the heavy cross of poverty and
had to beg for a living.
Why do we have these crosses?
If God is a good God and He really loves us, why do we have to suffer?
If Jesus could heal that man born blind,
why won’t He heal you or me from our suffering?
Why won’t He take my cross from me?
What is the meaning of suffering?
I think this is one of the worst parts of suffering:
We can’t figure out “Why me?”
When we look at Christ’s suffering, the meaning seems very clear:
He suffered and died to save us.
But for us, we don’t always see any reason at all for our suffering.
But the thing is, every suffering we endure has a reason.
Just as Jesus transformed His suffering and death on the Cross
into the Resurrection,
God always brings something good out of all suffering.
I may have told you before, but in my first parish assignment,
the other priests and I had the responsibility of being
the Catholic chaplains at Alexandria Hospital.
Day after day I would see lots of terrible suffering there.
But the greatest blessing of that assignment
was to see, over and over again,
how God brought some wonderful good
from every single situation of suffering.
Maybe it was the death bed conversion of the patient
or the grace of reconciliation and forgiveness of family members.
Maybe it was the grace of teaching a sleepy priest
that to be a true shepherd of souls,
he had to get his lazy rear out of bed in the middle of the night
to take care of his dying sheep.
Or maybe it was the nurse, who was a fallen away Catholic,
taking care of a very devout Catholic
who was dying a terribly painful death from cancer.
In the middle of her suffering,
that patient was still full of hope and faith in Jesus Christ,
praying the rosary over and over every day.
And pretty soon that nurse was praying the rosary with her…
and at the funeral Mass she resolved to come back to the Church.
All suffering has meaning.
There are two basic sources of suffering:
One is from sin, and the other is simply from the direct will of God.
In the case of sin, suffering can come from either our sins or the sins of others.
In other words, not God’s direct will:
He doesn’t make it or want it to happen.
He merely allows it as the result of someone else’s free will choices.
When we sin, there’s usually some sort of painful consequence.
A little child cries when he doesn’t get invited to a birthday party
because he was mean to the birthday boy last week.
Or an adult has a hangover from their sinful choices the night before.
The same is true with other people’s sins.
Their sins cause you pain.
A teenager gossips about another teen, ruining her reputation, or
a father abandons his family, and his wife and children are devastated.
Sin causes great suffering—even to the innocent.
But sometimes suffering has nothing to do with sin.
Sometimes God chooses to allow us to endure suffering
as part of His plan for the world.
In today’s Gospel we read,
“His disciples asked [Jesus],
‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’”
Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned
…[he was born blind] so that
the works of God might be made visible through him.”
God allows the suffering of this blind man
as part of His plan for some greater good.
Its as if God gives you something important to do,
but like all important things, it will be difficult to accomplish.
We see the troops in battle enduring great hardship,
and we hope they’re suffering not for the sake of suffering
but because it is necessary for the success of the mission.
The same is true for parenting. To be a parent means suffering.
Or for students, to be a student is hard
as learning often requires some suffering.
God always brings good from suffering. But sometimes we fight that good.
And it’s not always easy to see the good.
But if you can have just enough faith and confidence in the love of God,
that in His plan, all the suffering in life will work out for the good,
then you can know there is a reason…and a great reason.
Think about it: Your suffering is part of God’s plan for something great
—what difference does it make if you know what it is?
Even the suffering we bring on ourselves, the suffering caused by sin,
even that has a purpose for the good.
Most people nowadays don’t want to think about this kind of suffering
as a kind of punishment—but that’s what it is.
We have a hard time accepting this
because most of us still view punishment
–when we’re the ones being punished—
like we did when we were 4-year-olds: “Daddy’s mad at me.”
Instead, we should look at it like an adult,
realizing that fathers who love their children
allow them to learn from their mistakes,
to suffer the consequences of their disobedience.
Scripture tells us,
“For the Lord disciplines him whom he loves,
and chastises every son whom he receives.”
So even when we suffer from our own sins,
God either allows it for our own good,
so that we can repent and change,
or for some other good in the greater plan He has for the world.
Now, sometimes people talk about “accepting” suffering.
What they usually mean by this is
that they’ve simply accepted the inevitable.
But what they should be doing is not merely accepting suffering,
But “embracing” their suffering.
This is where suffering, amazing as it sounds,
can bring us joy, peace and happiness.
Embrace the Cross as Christ did,
not as an act of masochism, of eagerness to suffer
(think of Christ in his agony in the garden of Gethsemane),
but as an act of love.
Jesus had an eagerness to save us,
to love us and the Father, and to fulfill the Father’s plan of salvation.
Today’s Gospel reminds us that
the man born blind had been blind all his life.
Imagine how many people discovered the love of God
and the Lordship of Christ because of the blind man’s illness,
or rather Jesus’ curing of his illness:
Maybe his parents, neighbors, or even some of the Pharisees?
Imagine the joy of that blind man to know,
not only that God had healed him and spoken to him,
but that God, Jesus, had allowed him to help in healing and speaking
to billions of readers of the Gospel for 2000 years.
And so, in the shadow, or the light,
of Christ’s Cross we understand when we read,
“Come to me, all [you] who find life burdensome…
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me
…For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Today we read that Jesus cured the man born blind,
but we also know He didn’t heal everyone.
Even with the man born blind, Jesus waited until he was old to cure him.
Sometimes suffering is necessary.
The question is: How do we deal with suffering?
Do we try to reject it altogether?
This is useless, because the suffering remains,
and we only wind up in frustration and despair.
Or do we merely accept it?
This is better, more realistic,
but it can still leave us wallowing in pain and confusion,
and even bitterness–even bitterness toward God.
Or do we embrace our suffering?
Do we pick up the cross as Christ picks up His Cross,
embracing it with love, rejoicing as St. Paul did
when he wrote to the Philippians:
“Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake,
and in my flesh I complete
what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ
for the sake of his body, that is, the church”?
Today your priests wear the bright rose vestments of “Laetare (Rejoice)” Sunday
instead of the dark penitential violet of the other days of Lent
to remind us that the glory of God
always shines through the suffering of the Cross.
As we approach this Eucharist today,
let us see that just as the love of Christ Crucified
transforms the suffering of the Cross
into the glory of the Resurrection,
in this Eucharist that same love transforms
the bread and wine into His own Body and Blood,
and our sacrifices into part of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross,
and our suffering into a share of the joy of the Resurrection.
There is a reason for all suffering.
The man born blind was given the gift
of being able to see the reason for his suffering.
Let us pray today that God will give us the grace in this Eucharist
to see the particular reason for our suffering.
But more importantly, let us pray for the grace
to see our suffering as truly one of God’s gift to us
and to embrace our crosses in love.
So then, united to the love of His Cross and Resurrection,
we may rejoice that He has chosen us to assist Him with our suffering,
“so that the works of God might be made visible through us.”