Third Sunday of Advent – 14 December 2025

As we continue our Advent journey, the sense of expectation increases! This can fill us with a sense of dismay because of all that we consider needs to be achieved beforehand year’s end. But it can also fill us with a sense of wonder and anticipation. The outcome of wonder is joy. And so, we light the third candle of our Advent wreath – the rose-coloured candle – designated for the gift of joy that is given to us as people of both hope and faith.

As those who watch for the birth of the Lord’s life in the world, we are people of joy!

Like hope and faith, joy is not simply a feeling. It is not equated with happiness. Happiness is a feeling that occurs in response to what happens around us. But joy is something far deeper. In fact, we can feel sad, but we can still be joyful. There is much that happens that affects our feelings. We can feel deeply uncertain and anxious because of the threat of the cost of living which surrounds us; we can feel sad at the tragedies that occur; we can feel angry at the actions or inaction of government to address structures of injustice. And yet we can still be people of hope, joy and peace. This is because hope, joy and peace are not feelings. Rather they are profound recognitions of what is given to us in our faith, our belief that something new has come into our world through the birth of Jesus Christ, and that, therefore, the world is no longer the same. We are no longer the same. No longer are we simply at the mercy of randomness and arbitrariness. Rather, we are enveloped by a mystery of love that holds us, sustains us, and opens for us a future always.

Happiness is the outcome of the achievement of our aspirations. But Joy is the outcome of the experience of being loved, of rejoicing in a promise which has been given to us being fulfilled. And this promise proclaimed at Christmas is “I am with you.” Our joy, then, comes from knowing we are part of a much larger story than simply the one before us. It indicates to us that whatever might present before us, no matter how upsetting it might be, is not the final word. There is always something more. And because there is something more, our hearts remain open, not enclosed, living and awake not entombed in despair.

Living joyfully means we live, then, with gratitude, with hearts grateful for what we see and hear around us. The opposite of gratitude is criticism. A life marked by criticism is a sad life because it always places a demand on life that can never be realised. So, a critical life is one that is saturated with disappointment and resentment. It becomes bitter and cynical, never at peace, never at rest. It separates people, keeping them constantly at a distance. 

A life, however, that is marked with gratitude is one that is gracious. It recognises goodness; it breathes the humility to acknowledge the blessings that are occurring – yes, even in the midst of difficulties and challenges. It is a life that remains open to possibility. The sense of gratitude develops a gracious heart – a graced way of being. I think one of the greatest compliments that we can give another is that they are gracious. A gracious person radiates an unmistakable openness of being, a lightness of encounter, a warmth and a dignity that emerges from a confident humility. 

When we give thanks—even in small ways—our hearts open, our perspective shifts, and we begin to see the grace that has been quietly sustaining us all along. 

On this Gaudete Sunday, the Sunday of Joy, I want to name with heartfelt appreciation the countless ways that God’s love becomes visible in our own community—through you. We rejoice today because so many of us serve, give, accompany, pray, and lead in ways that often go unnoticed but are never unimportant:

• Those who welcome at the doors and make our church as inclusive.
• Those who prepare the liturgy, serve at the altar, proclaim the Word, arrange flowers, care for vestments and sacred vessels.
• Our musicians and singers who lift our hearts to God.
• Those who visit the sick, the elderly, the isolate, carrying the tenderness of Christ to those who need it most.
• Those who teach and form our children, our youth, and our catechumens.
• Those who volunteer for social outreach, justice initiatives, parish administration, and every practical task that keeps us going.
• Those who pray quietly for the needs of others—often unseen, but profoundly fruitful.
• And all who bring compassion, patience, and generosity to their family homes, workplaces, and relationships, extending the mission of Christ far beyond our doors.

Your contributions—great and small—are living signs of Emmanuel, God-with-us. They weave together the fabric of our parish life. They create the spaces where faith can grow, where people can belong, where the Gospel can be seen and touched.

Today, as we light the rose candle, we allow ourselves to rejoice not because everything in life is simple or easy, but because God is unfailingly present. And one of the clearest signs of that presence is the goodness and generosity alive in this community.

May this week be a time of renewed gratitude: for God’s gifts, for one another, for the privilege of serving together. And may that gratitude open us to the quiet but unmistakable joy that Advent promises—the joy Mary carried, the joy John the Baptist proclaimed, the joy the angels will soon announce at Bethlehem.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. For God is near, and God is already at work—here, among us, through us.