3rd Sunday of Advent, Year C

Okay, so I need to address the pink elephant in the room — you all are thinking Fr. Chris and I are wearing pink vestments today!  They are not pink, but technically, liturgically speaking, they are Rose.  There is a church joke out there that will forever help you honor this subtle, but important distinction: these vestments are rose-colored because Jesus “rose” from the dead, he did not “pink” from the dead!


But seriously, in the Church, the liturgical colors are important; they have meaning.  Today, the third Sunday of Advent, is known as Gaudete Sunday.  Gaudete means “Rejoice” in Latin.  We rejoice because of the imminent coming of our Lord, who literally births into our world like a flower blooming, bursting forth amidst a desert of thorns…like a rose!  The rose color reminds us of this truth and that we should rejoice at the Lord’s bursting forth into our lives amidst the desert of thorns we perceive and experience in our own lives — thorns that sometimes scratch us, wound us, hurt us. Yet that beautiful, fragrant bloom comes amidst those thorns, amidst our hurt — just as our God does.


The liturgical color scheme of Advent (and Lent as well) reminds us of this truth.  The purple color — technically violet — is a penitential color.  I always tell the servers, “Purple ribbon for Penitential Act!”  Advent, like Lent, is a penitential season.  We reflect on our fallen nature, our wounded state during this season, not in an unhealthy, perseverative “I am unworthy” way, but rather in a contemplative way that leads us to awareness of how we have hurt others and ourselves and caused separation and division — a way of spiritual growth that leads us in humility to reconciliation with God and one another, drawing us into a communion of love with God and one another.


So the Church chooses the somber violet color to remind and invite us into a somber reflection of our fallen humanity, of our wounded and wounding nature, not to lead us there and leave us there, but in point of fact to lead us out of there through our salvation and redemption in Christ.  Something to be hopeful for, something to look forward to, something to anticipate — to anticipate, as we do in this season of Advent, the coming of Christ our Lord!  You see, violet is also a color of royalty; so the violet of Advent anticipates the coming of Christ our King!


This Rose color we choose today is a reminder of Christ's imminent arrival, his about-to-burst-forth, blooming into our lives.  Fr. Hyacinth Cordell, a Dominican priest, has described the rose color as “violet approaching white.” The pure white is the light of Christ coming into the world.  As Fr. Cordell writes, the Rose color anticipates the pure white of the Birth and Resurrection of Christ.  A birth and resurrection we are invited to participate in over and over again, with every Baptism, with every Reconciliation, with every Eucharist, with every act of love.  Indeed, what’s not to be joyful about?  And the Rose color of the Advent candle, the Rose color of these vestments, proclaim that Joy!


But I know; I get it.  Most of us are not capital J-O-Y-Joyful!  In fact, we often struggle to be lower-case j-o-y-joyful amidst the thorny thickets of daily life that reach out and grab us, hook us, wounding us and distracting us — obfuscating our path and experience of joy.  This is real.  How do we find joy in the midst of this reality?  First, maintain our faith and hope in Christ the Light, despite all that is going on around us, recalling that he illuminates the darkness and conquers all of the trials of this life.  Secondly, enter into and become the Light of Christ.  Bear the Light of Christ to each other.  Reach out to one another, serve one another; give to one another and do not expect anything in return.  In bearing the light of Christ to one another, we will find the Joy of Christ blossoming in our lives.  Sometimes the best therapy is to go help someone else.  The Gospel passage heard today reminds us of this:


Share your cloak and food with the person who has none…

Stop collecting more than what is prescribed…

Do not practice extortion or falsely accuse anyone…

Be satisfied with your wages…



Sisters and brothers, remember the simple act of reaching out to someone you know or a stranger with a simple work or deed of kindness can have the profound effect of imparting the Light of Christ, and joy, abiding joy to both them and us, in whatever darkness we may be experiencing. Never underestimate that.


A story that Saint Mother Teresa of Kolkata told reminds of this truth.  She writes:


I will never forget the first time I came to Bourke [Australia] and visited with the sisters.  We went to the outskirts of Bourke.  There was a big reserv[ation] where all of the Aborigines were living in those little small shacks made of tin and old cardboard ... I entered one of those [little shacks] but it was only one room, and inside the room everything .... I told the man living there, “Please let me make your bed, to wash your clothes, to clean your room.”  And he kept saying “I’m alright, I’m alright.”  And I said to him, “But you will be more alright if you allow me to do it.”  [Finally] he allowed me…


After I cleaned the room I found in the corner of the room a big lamp full of dirt and I said, “Don’t you light this lamp, such a beautiful lamp[?].  Don’t you light it?”  He replied, “For whom?  Months and months nobody has ever come to me.  For whom will I light it?”  So I said, “Won’t you light it if the Sisters come to you?”  And he said “Yes.”  So the sisters started going to him for only about 5 to 10 minutes a day, but they started lighting that lamp.  After some time he got in the habit of lighting [the lamp].  Slowly, slowly, slowly the Sisters stopped going to him.  I forgot completely about that, and after two years he sent word — “Tell Mother, my friend, the light she lit in my life is still burning.”

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Deacon Paul Cerosaletti • July 19, 2026
There is a 16-acre field that stretches up behind my house on what used to be my father’s farm. This spring, the farmer that rents that field planted a “new seeding” of alfalfa haycrop, rotating it out of corn production from the previous year. He tilled the soil, carefully incorporating the remains of the previous corn crop, making the ground level. He then rolled it with a large smooth roller to smooth the ground, push down the stones and make a firm seedbed. He seeded the alfalfa, and then rolled the ground again, making sure there was good seed-soil contact, to ensure the alfalfa, which too is the smallest of seeds, would germinate. Then he left the field. And waited. And hoped. And trusted. For the planting of seed is an act of faith.  That field of newly seeded alfalfa behind my house sprang up with great vigor in May and early June. It looked wonderful — a solid stand. The rain in the third week of June benefited the crop as it was getting dry, but brought with it as well a flush of an unwanted crop — weeds! This farming reality mirrors Jesus’s reminder in the parable that with the good seed of God sown and growing, there will always be weeds of the world — be they people, places, or things — that will compete with the growth of God’s Kingdom. In perhaps a surprising twist in the parable, the farmer instructs the laborers not to pull the weeds, lest they uproot the good crop as well. This is an exhortation to trust and patience in the action of God. While weeds can be devastating to a crop, in the Kingdom of God, it's important to remember that these weeds were once sown as good seed. St. Isadore of Pelusium, a fifth-century Desert Father of the Church, taught that God, the Master of the Harvest, is patient , and the weeds are not to be immediately pulled and burned, in order to give time for us to repent and mend our ways, that we might become good grain again. What? Weeds turned into good grain? Impossible, we think? But St. Isadore reminds us, lest we forget, of the striking examples of St. Peter and St. Paul, who strayed in sin, and yet with God’s grace and repentance went on to yield good and abundant fruit. Indeed, this is the story of so many of the saints! Thanks be to God for a merciful Father who “[gives] his children good ground for hope that [he] would permit repentance for [our] sins” (Wis 12:19b) — giving us a chance to become good grain again! One more thing about that field of newly-seeded alfalfa that became full of weeds. It was what we would term a “clear seeding”, which is a seeding solely of the intended principal crop (alfalfa in this case). There is another strategy that farmers employ to manage weeds in a new seeding, which is to plant them with another intended crop, usually a small grain like oats or barley. We call this other crop a companion crop . The companion springs up early and outcompetes the weeds, holding them at bay. Yet, due to its narrow but tall stature, it allows light down into the canopy to nurture the alfalfa. The result is two intended crops that thrive, helping each other yield a valuable and bountiful harvest. This agricultural practice reminds us that we are never Christians in isolation, but are indeed Christians in communion — companions that help each other on the journey towards the eternal harvest. That journey is the journey of holiness. The Church teaches that we are all called to holiness. That is our ultimate state of being for which we each are created. God sows us as companion crops for each other that we might help each other to grow in holiness, helping each other along the way by example and by deeds of love, kindness, and mercy, which sometimes include fraternal correction. Deeds which sometimes are the smallest of seeds, but grow to have the greatest of effect on each other. When we help each other grow in holiness, we fill the world with companion crops, keeping the weeds of the world at bay.

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Rev. Christopher Welch • July 12, 2026
We are well into summer. I keep getting shown photos of the gardens people are tending in their backyards. It takes work and patience for produce to grow. Come in a few weeks and we will have a bountiful harvest of all kinds of produce. Those who are farmers can readily understand the parable of the sower in today’s Gospel. God sends out God’s word, and we are to be good soil for the word to take root. The challenge is to become fertile soil for the word of God. How do we become fertile soil? To be fertile ground, we need to keep an open mind. Too often I find myself not listening to what the other is saying, as I compose in my mind a response to what I think I am hearing. To really listen means to keep my mind open to receive what the other is saying. To listen means putting aside my agenda for a time. Sometimes the word of God struggles to get through all the noise in my brain. This is why quiet time in my day is so important; those who wish to listen to the voice of God go to a quiet place to listen for God. In these summer months we will spend time in quiet places where the word of God may speak to us. God’s voice is found at the seaside, in the woods, and on mountain tops. We need to quiet ourselves and listen for God’s voice. Making ourselves fertile ground for God’s word is not easy. We need to each day work to calm ourselves to hear God’s word. St. Ignatius of Loyola suggests a daily examen. Each day as we pray the Examen we become fertile ground. Here is how it is done: How to Pray the Examen Place yourself in God’s presence. Give thanks for God’s great love for you. Pray for the grace to understand how God is acting in your life. Review your day — recall specific moments and your feelings at the time. Reflect on what you did, said, or thought in those instances. Were you drawing closer to God, or further away? Look toward tomorrow — think of how you might collaborate more effectively with God’s plan. Be specific and conclude with the “Our Father.” Each day we work to make ourselves fertile ground.

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Rev. Christopher Welch • July 5, 2026
On this July 4th weekend, we recall our land’s independence from a foreign king and a foreign government. We have thrown off the yoke of King George III; we are a free and independent nation. For 250 years we have been learning what it means to live as an independent and free society. Today Jesus invites us to consider taking upon a yoke as we go forward as disciples of him. The yoke of King George was too heavy for this nation, but the yoke of our God, we are told by Jesus, “is easy and light.” What is the yoke of Jesus? The yoke of Jesus is about the kingdom of God, learning to love others as we love ourselves. As disciples of Jesus we take on the yoke of the Gospel. When life feels heavy, we turn to our God, and our God helps to make our burdens light. There are many things in life that may seem like a yoke, a burden, but if we look at them in a new way, we see our God helping us to carry our burden. As Jesus invites us to consider the childlike, let me share with you a story: The Fable of The Birds At the beginning of time, all the animals were walking around discovering what it was like to be alive. All except the birds! They were doing nothing but complaining because God had given them a heavy burden that he’d given to no other animals: those awkward appendages on their shoulders. God must be punishing them somehow. Why did they have to carry these things around, making it hard to walk? “Why?" they asked. “Why us?” Finally, two or three of the more adventurous birds began to move their appendages. They began to flutter them, and soon they discovered that the very things they regarded as a burden actually made it possible for them to fly. And no other animals could fly. The “heavy burden” turned out to be a wonderful gift. Is there something in your life that at first glance seemed a burden, but later was seen as a gift? One reason why we value the innocent and simple among us is that they can help us to see life and who we are with new eyes. The simple or innocent can sometimes help us see what we thought was a burden as a gift. In the lives of the saints, we read about many who took what seemed to be a burden and made it an asset: The first disciples were simple fishermen. They were not scholarly, they couldn’t read, but they took their experience of Jesus and let it form them as disciples. What was a burden became an asset. Peter denied the Lord on the eve of his death. This made him more compassionate to sinners and those who struggled to have courage. Paul was blinded for 3 days; a former killer of Christians saw with new eyes and preached the good news to the Gentiles. Thomas doubted the Resurrection but came to faith in his doubt. Theresa the Little Flower loved Jesus and others with the simple love of a child of God. St. Kateri looked for and saw God present in the trees and the nature of the forests where she made her home. Mother Teresa of Calcutta saw our Lord present in the sick and dying in India. Blessed Stan Rother, a farmer’s son from Oklahoma who couldn’t read Latin, learned to speak in the native tongue of the men and women who he ministered with in Guatemala. With the eyes of a child, with childlike faith, we learn to see the burdens we carry as paths to faith in the help and care of our God. Let us give thanks today for the gift of freedom and let us give thanks for the gift of our God who makes our burdens light.