Dear brothers and sisters,

Today’s Gospel presents a scene of quiet, profound significance. Jesus has just begun teaching the crowds in parables—stories full of mystery, simplicity, and power. But now His disciples approach Him privately: “Why do you speak to them in parables?”

It’s an honest question. Why not teach directly? Why not give people clear, systematic answers? Why veil the truth in story?

Jesus’ answer reveals not only the nature of parables, but also the nature of the human heart and the mystery of God’s grace.

Jesus says: “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.”

This is not an arbitrary exclusion. It is a statement about receptivity. Those who draw close to Jesus—who listen, question, seek, follow—are given more. Their hearts open. Their eyes begin to see. Their ears begin to hear. But those who remain at a distance—unwilling to respond, comfortable in superficiality—remain blind.

The parables, in this way, are both invitation and judgment. They reveal the truth to the humble and conceal it from the proud. They are like seeds: they take root only in the soil that is ready.

Jesus quotes Isaiah: “You will indeed hear but never understand… for this people’s heart has grown dull.” He is not speaking of physical deafness, but of spiritual resistance. It is possible to hear the Gospel every week—and still not listen. It is possible to see miracles—and still not believe.

What dulls the heart? Pride, sin, distraction, worldliness, fear. When we harden ourselves to God, we may still go through the motions, but the Word no longer penetrates. We become, as Isaiah said, a people with ears but no hearing, eyes but no vision.

This is why Jesus speaks in parables: not to hide the truth, but to awaken it in those who truly hunger for it.

A parable can sneak past our defences. It invites us in gently. It stirs something deeper than logic—it engages the imagination, the conscience, the heart. It requires us to lean in, to ponder, to wrestle. In that space, grace can work.

Then Jesus turns to His disciples and says: “Blessed are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.”

He is not congratulating them for being clever. He is blessing them for being open. They may not understand everything—but they are following Him. They are asking questions. They are drawing near. And in that openness, they are receiving the Kingdom.

We too must hear these words as a challenge: Are my eyes open? Are my ears listening? Or have I grown dull?

Do I come to Scripture with expectation? Do I pray attentively, or mechanically?

The Lord is always speaking. The Word is always being sown. But only the humble and listening heart can receive it.

This Gospel invites us to examine the soil of our hearts. Do I need to till it afresh? Do I need to confess something that is blocking the Word? Do I need to make space for silence, Scripture, and real prayer?

Let us not settle for dullness of heart. Let us ask Jesus to soften our ears, our eyes, our will. To make us fertile ground for His Word. To make us like those first disciples—poor in spirit, hungry for truth, willing to follow.

Blessed are your eyes if they see…
Let us not take that grace for granted.