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Sunday the 14th of December 2025 - Third Sunday of Advent – Gaudete Sunday

  • brendanflaxman
  • Dec 13, 2025
  • 4 min read
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Isaiah 35:1-6a, 10/ Ps 146(145)/ James 5:7-10/ Matthew 11:2-11

Today we light the rose or pink candle on the Advent Wreath, the Shepherds' Candle, calling us to rejoice. ‘Gaudete!’ Rejoice! Maybe today as we look at the news or recall the conversations from this past week, the command to rejoice feels almost impossible. We see conflicts escalating in many places in the world, we hear of families struggling to afford basic necessities, people isolated and lonely, and many of us know people suffering serious illness. The darkness seems impenetrable and yet we are called to rejoice.


This is the situation John the Baptist grappled with in the Gospel today. John, the last and greatest prophet, the fearless preacher who boldly proclaimed the coming of the Messiah, now locked in  prison. The walls are cold, the future is uncertain, so from that darkness, he sends his disciples to Jesus with a question: ‘Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?’ What is John asking? This is the man who leapt in his mother's womb at Mary's greeting, this is the prophet who pointed to Jesus and declared, ‘Behold, the Lamb of God!’ But now, in the darkness of his cell, doubt creeps in. The Messiah he proclaimed has not overthrown the Romans, where is the dramatic intervention, where is the victory? Should we be looking for someone else?


These can be the questions we ask ourselves in the dark moments in our lives. Where is God, when children are suffering? Where is God when good people lose everything? Where is God when violence and hatred seem to win? Is God our answer, or should we look elsewhere, to the world, to our own strength, to cynicism and resignation? The answer Jesus sends back to John is profound. He does not offer explanations or justifications. Instead, he points to what is actually happening: ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.’ Jesus quoted from the first reading from Isaiah, the prophecy that promised God's salvation. The desert blooming, the weak being strengthened, the blind seeing, the deaf hearing. Jesus is telling us to look carefully, the kingdom is breaking through, God is acting, but not in the way we might expect.


This is the joy of Gaudete Sunday, not a superficial glancing happiness, but a deep joy rooted in recognising God is with us even in the darkness. Saint Paul would later write to the Philippians when he himself was in prison "Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!" This is not the denial of suffering, but defiant hope in the midst of it. Our Christian joy is not something we can make by positive thinking or ignoring reality. It is a gift that comes from encountering Christ and recognising His presence and work in the world, even when that work is not what we expect. Saint James tells us in the second reading to be patient until the coming of the Lord. He uses the image of a farmer waiting for the crops to grow. The farmer does not dig up the seeds every day to check on them, he trusts the process. He knows that beneath the soil, in the darkness, life is growing.


Our whole life is an Advent, a time of preparation and waiting. We live between the first coming of Christ and His second coming, in a time theologians call the ‘already but not yet’ of God's kingdom. Christ has already won the victory through His death and resurrection. The kingdom has already broken into our world, but it is not yet fully realised. We still see suffering, experience darkness, we still have to wait. This is where our faith is tested and refined. We can see if we look that the Kingdom is already established. People everywhere respond to the needs of others. This is where the desert is blooming, where the blind are seeing and the lame walking, not always literally, but spiritually and socially. These are signs that God is acting in our world through people who say ‘yes’ to His love. This is what we are called to see and to be part of. Jesus did not tell John's disciples to tell him everything was perfect now. He asked what they could see, and what they saw was God's compassion taking flesh in concrete acts of healing and liberation.


The pink candle we light today reminds us to pause midway through Advent and remember why we are making this journey. We are not just enduring life until we die. We are preparing to meet the one who is already with us, already working, already transforming darkness into light. We are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our cry, even in Advent, even in waiting, even in darkness. So how do we respond to the reply Jesus gave to John and gives to us? Saint James gives us practical wisdom to be patient and not grumble. Do not let the darkness make us bitter, do not let the wait make us resentful toward others who are also struggling. Instead, be like the farmer, trust the process, do our part, and watch for the signs of growth.


In Holy Communion, Jesus comes to us, not in the dramatic, overwhelming way the world expects, but in the humble form of bread and wine. He comes quietly, gently, transforming us from within. This is how the kingdom comes, not with armies and fanfares, but with love that enters our darkness and lights it from within.


As we continue through Advent toward Christmas, let us practice seeing with the eyes of faith. Let us look for where God is acting already, in small kindnesses, in unexpected healings, in moments of grace. Let us be part of God’s action, becoming the hands and feet of Christ for others. Let us rejoice in anticipation, not because everything is easy, but because we know the end of the story. We know that light overcomes darkness, that love is stronger than death, that Christ has come, is coming, and will come again.


Can we see through the darkness that the desert is already blooming?


God Bless Brendan

 
 

In Your Midst

© 2022  Rev. Brendan Flaxman. All rights reserved. All opinions expressed are my own and are not necessarily representative of the views of the Bishop of Portsmouth or the Trustees of the Catholic Diocese of Portsmouth Charitable Trust. 

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