My friends, look at the wreath. Today, we break the pattern. After two weeks of violet—the color of penance and preparation—we light the Ros...
My friends, look at the wreath. Today, we break the pattern. After two weeks of violet—the color of penance and preparation—we light the Rose candle. We wear Rose vestments. This is Gaudete Sunday. The Sunday of Rejoicing.
But if we are honest, rejoicing can feel like a heavy command, can’t it?
When you look at the headlines, or perhaps when you look at the empty chair at your dinner table, or the pile of bills on the counter, "Rejoicing" feels like a mask we are asked to wear. How do we rejoice when the world is broken?
Our readings today give us the answer, not through a cliché, but through a journey. It is a journey defined by three words: Prison, Proof, and Patience.
The first word is PRISON. We often romanticize the figures of the Bible, imagining them as unwavering statues of marble. But look at the Gospel today. We find John the Baptist, the greatest of the prophets, the man who baptized Jesus himself... sitting in a dungeon.John had spent his life preaching that the Messiah would come with an axe to cut down the dead trees. He expected fire. He expected judgment. He expected a revolution. Instead, he ended up in Herod’s prison, and Jesus is out there preaching about mercy and eating with sinners.
John is confused. He sends his disciples to ask the most haunting question in the New Testament: "Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?"
Think about the heartbreak in that question. That is the sound of a man whose expectations have crashed into reality.
Many of you are in a "prison" today. A prison of chronic illness. A prison of a marriage that has grown cold. A prison of addiction, or grief, or doubt. You have prayed, you have been faithful, and yet, the breakthrough hasn't come. You are asking God, "Are you really here? Or did I make this all up?"
The Church does not ask you to hide that doubt today. Bring your prison to the altar. Even John the Baptist had to ask the question.
This leads us to the second word: PROOF. How does Jesus answer John? He doesn’t send back a theological essay. He doesn’t say, "How dare you doubt me!"
He says: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed... and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them."
Jesus offers Proof. But notice what kind of proof it is. He quotes our first reading from Isaiah 35. He points to acts of healing, restoration, and mercy.
Here is the challenge for us: John wanted the axe; Jesus brought the scalpel. John wanted the fire; Jesus brought the water.
Often, we miss the joy of Advent because we are looking for the wrong kind of proof. We want God to win the lottery for us, or to instantly fix our rebellious child, or to crush our enemies. But God is saying, "Look closer."
Look at the grace that gave you the strength to get out of bed this morning. Look at the friend who called you out of the blue. Look at the peace you felt for just a moment in prayer. These are the Isaiah miracles. These are the flowers blooming in the desert.
If you demand that God works only in thunder, you will miss him. But if you look for him in the whisper of healing, you will find he has been there all along.
And finally, the third word: PATIENCE. If we are in the Prison of doubt, and we see the Proof of God's work, what do we do in the meantime? St. James tells us in the second reading: "Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord."
He uses the image of a farmer. A farmer works hard, but he cannot force the seed to grow. He cannot scream at the soil to make the wheat rise faster. He must wait for the "early and the late rains."
This is the hardest spiritual work of all. In 2025, we are addicted to the instant. Instant messages, same-day delivery, instant gratification. We treat God like a vending machine—we put in a prayer, and we expect a blessing to drop out immediately.
But St. James says: "Make your hearts firm." Patience is not passivity. It is not sitting around doing nothing. Patience is "firming your heart." It is the muscular, stubborn refusal to give up hope when the winter is long. It is continuing to pray when the answer hasn't come yet. It is continuing to love when you are not loved back.
My friends, the Rose candle is lit. The light is growing. We rejoice today not because everything is perfect. We rejoice because the King is coming. He may not come with the axe you expected, but He comes with the healing you need. He sees you in your Prison. He offers you the Proof of his love in the Eucharist we are about to share. And He asks for your Patience as He prepares a harvest of glory in your life.
So, strengthen your hands that are feeble. Make firm the knees that are weak. Say to those whose hearts are frightened: Be strong, fear not! Here is your God.
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