Once I was blind and now I see.

A Reflection for the Memorial of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, Religious

Find today’s readings here.

To see the world around us is a great gift, one that we all take for granted in one way or another. But to have vision, to really see, is something else, and it can take a lifetime to develop. 

If Jesus asked me, “What do you want me to do for you?” I think I, too, would say, “Lord, please let me see.” I am not physically blind, but there are many ways I could see the world around me—especially people—with greater clarity. 

But this kind of vision—when it comes—is usually preceded by experiences of pain or catharsis. The blind man in today’s reading was blind for all of his life before he met Jesus. We, too, may have to suffer before we gain vision.

Such was the case, it seems, for Martin Scorsese, who includes the story of a blind man from the Gospels in the final frame of his film “Raging Bull.” It’s jarring to read these words after seeing a film filled with blood and brutality: All I know is this: once I was blind and now I see (Jn 9:25).  But the quote starts to make more sense when you consider that Mr. Scorsese was talking about himself. 

The screenwriter Paul Schrader makes this point in the new Apple TV+ documentary, “Mr. Scorsese,” and Mr. Scorsese himself affirms it: “Yeah, people die in life, but they come back.”

Mr. Scorsese had almost died of drug abuse in the late 1970s when his friend Robert DeNiro visited him in the hospital and urged him to make “Raging Bull.” It was a moment of rebirth. A medicine man once told the director: “You died in that hospital.” 

At the end of “Mr. Scorsese,” the director allows the cameras into his home with his family. We see him taking care of his wife, Helen Morris, who suffers from severe Parkinson’s disease. He is ever gentle, ever patient. 

All I know is this: once I was blind and now I see. 

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