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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.”


Third Sunday of Lent C - March 23, 2025

By Fr. Christopher Welch • March 24, 2025
After Moses has his conversation with God in the Burning Bush, Moses asks God for what name he should use in referring to God. God gives the vague answer, “I am who I am.” Asking for someone’s name is a common occurrence. When we refer to someone with their name, we honor them. We all like to be referred to by name. This is one way we honor a person. Not all of us are good at remembering names, but when we do remember and use the name of the other person, we honor them. One of the names for God is taken from our psalm, “The Lord is kind and merciful”. God is also patient. The parable from the gospel about the fig tree is a parable about God’s patience. God, being the gardener, is willing to wait a year for fruit. God works the same for all of us. God is patient with us. Not everyone comes to faith in the same way or the same time frame. Some take less time, others more. When we see a new face in church we don’t ask “What took you so long?” or “Where have you been?” We simply say, “Welcome! It is good to have you here.” We ask and learn the name of the new person and we speak to him or her each week using their name and making them feel welcome. Maybe you have been a fig tree or known someone who is or was a fig tree. This is a good reason to give thanks to the patient nature of God. Remember the kingdom is in the future and now.

2nd Sunday of Lent - March 16, 2025

By Fr. Chris Welch • March 16, 2025
2 nd Sunday of Lent C March 16, 2025 One of my memories of being a student at SUCO in the 1980s were my trips to sit and pray at Table Rock, just above the Hartwick Campus. At that time, I could look down on the world’s largest train roundhouse. Going up high gives one a new perspective. The disciples saw Jesus in a new way. Going down the mountain meant continuing their journey to Jerusalem. As we know when Luke uses the word Jerusalem he is speaking about passion, pain, and death. Resurrection comes later. Standing on a mountain top the world feels very different. The problems of the world are far below us. One comes down off the mountain with a new vision. Even if they were allowed, how could the disciples describe what happened on that mountain. Mountain top moments is one way we speak of the spiritual moments in our lives. A mountain top experience may take place anywhere and at any time. I am reminded of the moment Thomas Merton describes in Louisville. “In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.” When have you had mountain top experience? Where did it take place? What were you doing at the time? ( Pause here ) Lent is a season for adjusting how we look at ourselves and the world. In Two weeks, we have gone from the desert to the mountain top. Next week we will stand before a burning bush and ask God what do we do now? Last Sunday I joined 200 Catechumens who placed their names in the book of the Elect as they prepared to celebrate the rites of initiation at the Easter vigil. For the past year of so they have been looking for a relationship with Jesus and the Community. These 40 days of Lent are their final retreat as they adjust their vision to be disciples of Jesus. We journey with them as we fast, pray and give alms. Let our disciplines of Lent help us to invite “mountaintop” experiences into our lives.

First Sunday of Lent, Year C

By Deacon Paul Cerosaletti • March 9, 2025
One of the enduring memories that I have growing up on the farm as a boy and young man was the annual spring ritual of picking stones from the fields that we had tilled for the planting of corn or a new seeding of hay crop. After the fields had been plowed and then harrowed, we would enter into the field, often the whole family, accompanying our tractor with its bucket loader. Each of us would begin this methodical search for stones that were large enough to cause damage to the crop planting and harvesting machinery. When we found those stones, we would then pick them up and throw them, or carry and drop them, into the tractor bucket. With the largest stones, the best we could do was to pry them up out of the brown earth with our hands and roll and flop them into the tractor bucket. The image in my mind’s eye of the barren stony field with its brown tilled earth, and our methodical wandering back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of the tractor searching for stones to pick, conjures a parallel image of the Israelites wandering in the barren desert, a story we are reminded of by Moses in the first reading we heard today — a story not just of the Israelites wandering in the desert alone but, as Moses reminds them, wandering accompanied by God who heard their cry, saw their affliction, their toil, and their oppression , and led and accompanied them out of that. They were not alone; God was with them in the midst of their deserts and provided for them. We are encouraged to remember this today, as we wander in our own desert fields, picking stones from our lives: God is with us, by our sides, in our midst. And God the Son, Jesus Christ, invites us to seek his help in doing so. He tells us: “Come to me, all you who are burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Mt 11:28) It is desert and stones again that we hear of also in the Gospel passage. Jesus Christ has been in a self-sacrificing fast in the desert, is hungry, and is tempted by the devil to use his power to turn stones into bread and to feed on them. He resists the temptation — pointing to and drawing strength from reliance on God. Are we often tempted to feed on the stones that we carry in the desert fields of our lives? How often are those stones temptations, not to feed on something seemingly desirable, like bread, but rather to feed on that which is unpalatable — such as stones of bitterness, animosity, anger, discord, fear, discouragement, or useless anxiety. I think those are just as often the weighty stones we carry in our desert fields and that we may be tempted to feed on. It takes conscious effort to reach out to God for grace, in even the simplest of prayers, to resist these temptations, recognizing that often God’s grace comes through others around us who help us, support us, and love us. Let us not forget that we have in Jesus Christ one who, like us, has been similarly tested through what he endured; he is able to help us who are being tested ( cf Heb 2:18). One who invites us: “Come to me, all you who are burdened, and I will give you rest.” Jesus invites us to give him our burdens, our stones — whatever they may be: bitterness, animosity, anger, judgmentalism, fear, discouragement, anxiety — all of the things that ultimately rob us of the joy God and Christ desire for us.  We have an invitation and a choice to give these over to Christ —to let go of these stones. It is an invitation and choice that is mirrored symbolically in our parish invitation in the bulletin over the last few weeks to leave a stone at the foot of Christ’s Cross here in the well throughout Lent. A ritual act of handing over, letting go, and letting God; letting God take our stones which do not and cannot feed us, and instead feed us with his True Food and life-giving Word and Spirit. If you have not thought to bring a stone from home, fear not; there are a bucket of them here in the well. And, don’t worry about dropping your stone on the burlap desert sands; there is plenty of padding underneath! And as we leave our stones behind, maybe we can pick up and take away with us the kindness Fr. Chris invited us to share in his homily on Ash Wednesday; kindness that we feed each other with, looking out for each other, loving each other. It’ll be the same kindness that will end up feeding us .
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