The Gaze of Faith
Julián Carrón - “The priest Ezra brought the law before the assembly of men,” that is, the form through which God made Himself close to the people. “What great nation,” Deuteronomy says, “has the gods so close to it as the Lord our God is close to us whenever we call upon Him? And what great nation has righteous laws and regulations like all this legislation that I am giving you today?” (Deut. 4:7-8).
“This day,” said Nehemiah when he read the law, “is consecrated to the Lord your God; do not mourn or weep!” Indeed, all the people wept as they heard the words of the law. So moved were they that they knelt in worship before the Lord. Because of this closeness, manifested in guidance for a way of life, it was necessary to celebrate, “for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
The true strength of a person comes from the joy found in God, not from outward circumstances or human strength. The Gospel highlights the newness introduced by Jesus: “He came to Nazareth, where He had grown up, and, according to His custom, on the Sabbath day, He entered the synagogue and stood up to read.”
At first glance, everything appears the same as in the first reading: a reading and the people listening. So where is the difference? “In the synagogue, everyone's eyes were fixed on Him [Jesus].” This is the turning point. The people were not merely impressed by the words of Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; […] He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and sight to the blind.” These words were familiar to them. However, this moment was set apart because everyone was waiting for Him.
What would He say that was different? They had heard these words countless times before, yet they were used to being surprised. His fame had preceded Him: “Throughout the whole region, His fame spread.” And what was His fame? His unique way of teaching in the synagogues, so remarkable that they “gave Him praise.” His presence aroused an expectation unparalleled by any other reader.
And Jesus did not disappoint. He said something no one could have imagined: “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
“The real novelty of the New Testament lies not in new ideas but in the very figure of Christ, who gives flesh and blood to concepts—an unheard-of realism. Even in the Old Testament, biblical novelty does not consist simply in abstract notions but in the unpredictable and, in a certain sense, unheard-of action of God. This action of God now acquires its dramatic form in the fact that, in Jesus Christ, God Himself pursues the ‘lost sheep’—suffering and lost humanity” (Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est, 12).
God’s presence is not just a word, a discourse, or a doctrine, but a tangible reality. Jesus was the Good News—He freed the captives and gave sight to the blind. Those who encountered Him began to grasp the existential meaning of the expression we have heard so many times before Christmas: “The Word became flesh.”
The Word of God became flesh—a tangible presence that could be felt and touched, a presence that drew people to Him and held them in awe. And because of this, “the eyes of all were fixed on Him.” In Jesus, they saw the fulfillment of what the Word had proclaimed.
But are we so poor that we must be content with the Word alone, like those in the Old Testament, while only those in Nazareth could hear it in the flesh? How does this presence continue in the flesh?
This is what St. Paul explains in the second reading: “Brethren, just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so also is Christ. We were all baptized through one Spirit into one body because we have all received the same Spirit.”
This reality becomes evident when we recognize in our lives those people who have been transformed by this Spirit and are left in awe, just like the disciples or those in Nazareth before Jesus.
Last night, a young man shared with me that he had visited a friend to console him after the loss of his father. Seeing in his friend and his family the certainty they held—the faith that radiated through their peace and their conviction that their father had reached his true goal—the young man was captivated. He, too, longed for that peace, that serenity, and that joy that overflowed in his friends. He, too, found his eyes fixed on them.
This is how the Christian event continues today—through people who, by grace, are invested with the power of the same Spirit that filled Jesus. When this happens, we face the same challenge as those who heard Jesus in Nazareth two thousand years ago. Since then, this event has remained an event— one that captivates and holds the gaze of those who encounter it.
“Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Him.”
Christianity is not merely a set of laws or precepts nor a series of rituals to be performed. It is a presence—an unpredictable presence that awakens the lives of those who encounter it. It attracts with a force that stirs joy and peace in those who perceive it—just as that young man saw in the faces of his friends.
Our lives, like those of the people who listened to Jesus in Nazareth, are shaped by this attraction. It does not leave us indifferent. Instead, it stirs in us the desire not to miss what our eyes have seen.
III Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year C
Notes from the homily by Julián Carrón Jan. 26, 2025 (First reading: Ne 8:2-4a..5-6,8-10; Psalm 18 (19); Second reading: 1Cor 12:12-14,27; Gospel: Lk 1:1-4;4:14-21)
The author has not revised the text and its translations.
