The Gospel is full of images that hold deep meaning, and in this passage two particularly revealing ones appear: the eye and the tree. In the Hebrew tradition, the word עין (Ê¿ayin) means not only “eye,” but also “source” or “spring.” This suggests a connection between the gaze and the heart, as if the eye were a window into the deepest part of the human being. Similarly, the tree externalizes what remains hidden beneath the earth: its root. Thus, both the gaze and the fruit of a tree are visible manifestations of an inner reality.
The evangelist Luke structures this passage in three moments that invite us to a process of discernment. First, he raises the question of blindness: what does it mean not to see? Then, he looks for the causes of this blindness: what prevents us from seeing with 
clarity? At this point, Jesus employs the image of the log and the splinter-analogous to the beam and the straw-to illustrate the obstacles that distort our vision. Finally, the teaching culminates with the image of the tree and its fruit, leading us to understand that true vision consists in learning to recognize the goodness or falsity of what surrounds us.
This pedagogical path that Luke proposes is closely linked to faith, because in Scripture “seeing” is not only a physical act, but a metaphor for the act of believing. Throughout the New Testament, faith implies a transformation of the gaze, a learning to see in a new way. It is not by chance that the fundamental proclamation of Easter Sunday revolves around the vision of the Risen One. The key word of that message in Greek is ὀφθή(ophthÄ“), meaning “he has been seen.” More than a simple appearance, this is a deliberate manifestation: Christ allows himself to be seen.
This event is the core of the Christian faith. To believe is ultimately to see the Lord, and this vision is also the ultimate promise that awaits us in the fullness of time. Ultimately, the manifestation of the Risen Lord is the foretaste of the final destiny of humanity, when we will all behold him face to face. With the resurrection, the end of history has already begun.
In this passage, Jesus speaks of the blind leading the blind. Beyond the literal image, the message underlines two essential aspects. First, that faith is not static, but a way. In the original Greek, the expression used indicates that the blind not only follow others, but lead them. Faith is therefore a process, an act of trust that is built day by day. But here a fundamental question arises: in whom do we trust? If we place our faith in a blind guide, we will inevitably share his fate.
This brings us to another key point: no one is more than his or her master. Who is truly our master? We all follow someone, even if we are not always aware of it. If we do not reflect on who guides us, we run the risk of allowing ourselves to be led by false teachers. Jesus warns us of the existence of many deceivers who lead into darkness. These are not only people, but also ideologies, thoughts and emotions that blind us.
Faced with this, we must ask ourselves: what is it that obscures our gaze? Anger, resentment, envy, all these emotions prevent us from seeing clearly. But often these blindnesses come from deeper wounds. At this point, Jesus introduces the image of the eye wounded by the splinter. It is a small wound, but it is enough to prevent vision.
Here the need to recognize our own wounds and those of others becomes evident. For the early Christians, who heard this gospel against the background of Christ’s passion, the reference to the splinter had an implicit meaning: the cross. The cross and resurrection of Jesus are the key to understanding this message.
When Jesus mentions “the splinter of wood,” it is not just any fragment: it is an allusion to the wood on which he himself was crucified. This leads us to an important revelation: not only do we carry a wound in our eyes, but the Crucified One is in front of our eyes. The true value of our existence is the death of Christ for us. But do we realize what is before our eyes? Are we aware that our blindness comes precisely from ignoring this reality? We are quick to criticize the gaze of others, without recognizing that the only vision that allows us to see with truth is that of the infinite love of Christ given on the cross.
Often, what bothers us in others is what we do not accept in ourselves. The splinter and the beam, the straw and the log, are made of the same material. It irritates us because it reflects us, because it confronts us with an uncomfortable reality: Christ has died for us and we find it difficult to accept it. It bothers us because we do not see it.
From here, we come to the third moment of the text: by its fruits we recognize the tree. Jesus calls us to discern between good and bad fruits, to recognize which is the true tree. The cross, far from being a sign of death, is the tree of life. However, in the world there are many trees and many fruits.
It is not enough to look, it is necessary to try, to examine the fruits that different paths offer us and to ask ourselves: what does trusting this tree produce in me?
We can apply this teaching to our personal experience. When a thought arises in our mind, we should ask ourselves: what fruit does it leave in my heart? If it produces sadness, remoteness from God, restlessness, if it divides me inwardly, then it is bad fruit. Spiritual masters would call it desolation. On the other hand, true discernment consists in choosing the good tree, the one that bears the fruit of life and brings us closer to the true Master.