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A few years ago I was finishing up Masses for the weekend. I was tired, it was cold and windy outside, so it was a good day to just take a long afternoon nap. As I was leaving, I noticed something push against the door outside. There was a dog hunched in the corner against the building. It was a little lapdog—cold and shivering, obviously hungry and quite a bit afraid. It had a collar on, so I figured I would check it to see whose dog it was and help it find its way home. But as I approached it, it growled and snapped at me. It wanted to bite me, even though all I wanted was to help it. As much as I tried, this dog wouldn’t let me near it. So I wasn’t able to help. I thought I would at least get a bowl of food and put it out for him, but by the time I got back outside, the dog was gone. This dog did what our natural instinct is when we’re afraid—to go into defense mode, to protect ourselves from harm. We lash out, we lie, or maybe we just run away from the threat. But Jesus offers us a better way—through His grace, we receive power and courage and strength. In the Gospel today we have a man who was born blind. What seemed incurable was cured miraculously by Jesus. Never having been able to see, now he sees. And when questioned by the authorities—some may say, even intimidated by them—the man’s unable to give any explanation for how Jesus did it. The man didn’t even know what Jesus looked like, since he wasn’t around when he came back from the pool of Siloam. He just responds with what he knows to be true: “I was blind, and now I see. And Jesus did this for me.” No matter how intimidating the Pharisees were, he didn’t back down. In fact, the more they pressed him, the deeper his belief in Jesus became. They say, “What do you have to say about this man Jesus?” “He’s a prophet.” And later, when the authorities punish the man for believing and when he finally encounters Jesus face-to-face, that faith deepens even more, and he can profess, “Jesus, you are Lord!” It takes courage to speak the truth, especially when we can’t explain the why’s and the how’s to people who want an explanation, and especially when we don’t understand it completely ourselves. St. Thomas Aquinas is quoted as saying: “To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible.” If you believe what you say you believe about Christ, you’re not going to back down and you’re not going to abandon the truth, no matter what. But you’re going to pursue the answers to your questions, delving ever deeper into the mysteries of our faith. Fear, however, can creep into our hearts. It’s a human reaction to any threat. The man’s parents in the Gospel, when they were brought in for questioning, believed that Jesus healed their son. But they wouldn’t say that because they were afraid of being thrown out of the synagogue. Fear can keep us from speaking the truth. Fear, I would say, has been the cause of more fruitless evangelization than anything else, when we simply don’t say anything at all because we’re scared how others will react. But it’s so often the case that when our faith is tested, when we’re put into that frightening position of having to defend our faith, that our faith is actually strengthened. We become stronger Catholics as a result. When I was a kid, I received a lot of anti-Catholic prejudice since I lived in a very non-Catholic area in Kentucky. But the more I was pressed about my faith, the more I went back to study it. And I ended up a stronger Catholic as the result of something that others thought would weaken my faith. I think we’re seeing something similar happening as the result of the media coverage of the scandals in our Church—some of the coverage is valid information that needs to get out there, but that constant attack on the Church that we see has actually strengthened the faith of many, because it makes us look at our faith again and really ask the questions, “Where have I placed my faith, in man or in Christ?” and “Do I really believe in the grace offered by Jesus in His Church?” Many have answered those questions with a resounding, “I do believe, Lord. I believe in You, and I will follow You in Your Holy Church.” When our faith is threatened, God strengthens us and gives us courage to go out there and defend it. But we have to start somewhere. We begin out of our weakness and our fear. St. Paul said that “God did not give us a spirit of fear…He didn’t give us a spirit of cowardice…He gave us a spirit of strength and courage and power” (cf. 2 Timothy 1:7). The man today experienced this sudden rush of courage surge through him, so that he was able to defy the authorities by professing faith in Jesus. He was open to the Spirit of God, who “comes to the aid of our weakness” (Romans 8:26). And it’s through Him that we receive grace upon grace, strength upon strength, and faith upon faith. More and more will be given to the one who has, so long as we’re willing to step out of our comfort zone just a bit. He more than makes up for what is lacking, and He encourages us to grow in our understanding and our discipleship. So when others challenge you or question you, don’t be afraid to speak out about your faith in Jesus Christ for fear of what they might say or do or think, even if you don’t have all the answers. Only a Pharisee demands an explanation before they’re willing to believe. But use that moment to call upon the strength and courage of the Lord, as the man born blind did—to profess, “This is what I believe. I may not know right now the how’s or the why’s, but I will not back down from my belief in the dignity of every human life from conception to natural death, the sacredness of Christian marriage, the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, the forgiveness of sins through the Sacrament of Confession, or the Death and Resurrection of Christ. I will profess that to my dying day, and God willing, one day I may even come to understand it better.”