Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

There are two important, related, and relevant themes in the readings we hear today:  the Light of Christ and the Call of Christ in our lives.   


The first reading from the prophet Isaiah, which we heard not long ago at our Christmas Masses, speaks and prophesies about the Light of the Messiah, Christ, who is to come into the world.  The time at which Isaiah writes is the time of the Assyrian exile, when the northern areas of ancient Israel, including the lands of Naphtali and Zebulon, were invaded by the Assyrians who carried off many of the inhabitants into exile.  This was the land and people of gloom and darkness that the prophet Isaiah writes about, and prophesies that from the land, in the midst of their gloom and darkness, a great Light would shine.  We believe that Isaiah’s Messianic prophecy is fulfilled in Christ, who comes into the world as a Light to all nations, and comes as Light not only for the particular people of a particular time, but for all people (all nations) for all of time.  We believe and we hope in Christ’s coming into the gloom and darkness of our lands and lives today.  Christ the Light, Christ our Hope, breaks into our lives over and over and over again, in little and sometimes big ways, as with Him, we die to an old way of life of sin and rise, over and over, to a new life in Christ.  It is Christ who, on Mt. Calvary, smashes the yoke and pole of sin and death, and the rod of the taskmaster who chains us to that yoke and pole.  It is, as Bishop Robert Barron notes, Christ on Calvary who, “swallowed up all of our dysfunction in the ever great mercy of God.”


It is His Light that Christ calls us into, to become one with.  We hear of the first disciples’ call from Jesus in the Gospel passage, and Matthew reminds us of Isaiah’s prophecy of Christ as the Great Light.  In this we may be reminded of another of Isaiah’s prophecies: 


So shall my word be

that goes forth from my mouth;

It shall not return to me empty,

but shall do what pleases me,

achieving the end for which I sent it. (Is 55:11)


We see how, literally, Christ, the Word of God, calls the disciples.  Christ’s call, the Divine Fisherman’s casted line, does not come back empty, does it?  Repeatedly He casts, and repeatedly His Word lands fish.  Christ too casts His line for us.  He casts his line into the darkness and gloom of our world and lives today.  He casts it, repeatedly, breaking into the day-to-day busyness, caught-up-in-our-own worldliness, until we notice his Light Line and Life Line, and respond to His call.  His Word will not return to Him empty, but lead us to his Boat, to His Shore, and into His Light.  Thanks be to God!


St. John Henry Newman, a former Anglican priest, convert to Catholicism, and Cardinal of the Church in the 1800s, reflected eloquently on God’s Divine Call of us throughout our lives: 


For in truth we are not called once only, but many times; all though our life Christ is calling us.  He called us first in Baptism; but afterwards also; whether we obey his voice or not, he graciously calls us still.  If we fall from our Baptism, He calls us to repent; If we are striving to fulfill our calling, He calls us from grace to grace, and from holiness to holiness, while life is given us…we all are in course of calling, on and on, from one thing to another, having no resting place but mounting towards our eternal rest…



Lead, Kindly Light

St. John Henry Cardinal Newman


Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,

Lead Thou me on;

The night is dark, and I am far from home,

Lead Thou me on.

Keep Thou my feet;

I do not ask to see the distant scene;

one step enough for me.


I was not ever thus, nor prayed that

Thou shouldst lead me on;

I loved to choose and see my path; but now

Lead Thou me on.

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, pride ruled my will; 

Remember not past years.


So long Thy power hath blessed me, sure it still

Will lead me on.

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till

The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile,

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Rev. Christopher Welch • September 24, 2026
In today's parable we meet two brothers; one says he will go and doesn’t, the other says he will not go and does. The listeners decide the second did his father’s will. In life we judge people not by their words but by their actions. Those who act upon their words we honor. We are given second chances to reconsider our words and decide to do what we are asked to do. Too often it is hard to say 'yes' and act upon our 'yes'. This may have been the case with the second brother, but in time he said 'yes' by his actions. I am reminded of a meditation by Michael Quoist: I am afraid of saying "Yes," Lord. Where will you take me? I am afraid of drawing the longer straw, I am afraid of signing my name to an unread agreement, I am afraid of the "yes" that entails other "yeses." And yet I am not at peace. You pursue me, Lord, you besiege me. I seek out the din for fear of hearing you, but in a moment of silence you slip through. I turn from the road, for I have caught sight of you, but at the end of the path you are there awaiting me. Where shall I hide? I meet you everywhere. Is it then impossible to escape you? But I am afraid to say "Yes," Lord. I am afraid of putting my hand in yours, for you hold on to it. I am afraid of meeting your eyes, for you can win me. I am afraid of your demands, for you are a jealous God. I am hemmed in, yet I hide. I am captured, yet I struggle, and I fight knowing that I am defeated. For you are the stronger, Lord, you own the world and you take it from me. When I stretch out my hand to catch hold of people and things, they vanish before my eyes. It's no fun, Lord, I can't keep anything for myself. The flower I pick fades in my hands. My laugh freezes on my lips. The waltz I dance leaves me restless and uneasy. Everything seems empty, Everything seems hollow, You have made a desert around me. I am hungry and thirsty, And the whole world cannot satisfy me. And yet I loved you, Lord; what have I done to you? I worked for you; I gave myself for you. O great and terrible God, What more do you want? * * * Son, I want more for you and for the world. Until now you have planned your actions, but I have no need of them. You have asked for my approval, you have asked for my support, You have wanted to interest me in your work. But don't you see, son, that you were reversing the roles? I have watched you, I have seen your good will, And I want more than you, now. You will no longer do your own works, but the will of your Father in heaven. Say "Yes," son. I need your "yes" as I needed Mary's "yes" to come to earth, For it is I who must do your work, It is I who must live in your family, It is I who must be in your neighborhood, and not you. For it is my look that penetrates, and not yours, My words that carry weight, and not yours, My life that transforms, and not yours. Give all to me, abandon all to me. I need your "yes" to be united with you and to come down to earth, I need your "yes" to continue saving the world! * * * O Lord, I am afraid of your demands, but who can resist you? That your Kingdom may come and not mine, That your will may be done and not mine, Help me to say "Yes." — Michael Quoist in Prayers

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Deacon Paul Cerosaletti • September 20, 2026
One of my most favorite responses I get from people when I greet them and ask “Hey, how are you?” is the response, “Better than I deserve.” There is something in that response that not only strikes a chord of humility but also of God’s generosity and mercy. Most of us have a strong sense of fairness. The response “better than I deserve” is rooted in our sense of fairness and justice, a sense that might lead us to understand, and perhaps even sympathize, with the reaction of the vineyard workers who labored all day, in the heat of the day, and yet are paid the same amount as those that worked only one hour. How is that right? But the parable we hear in the Gospel is not about what is ‘right and just’. The themes of this parable are about the lavish generosity and mercy of God and , as the Gospel always is, a challenge to examine what is going on in our own hearts — what is happening with our own conversion of heart . These two themes might come alive more for us, as God speaking directly to us, if we change one word in one verse in the parable to express what God intends for us. What if the verse, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?” was instead read, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own mercy ?” See how that changes things? We are often, so often, fixated on fairness, equity, and justice. There is nothing wrong with those concepts and virtues, except when we fail to live beyond them to generosity and mercy . We have a God who lives beyond justice, in generosity and mercy, and who calls us to do the same. You see, if we stop at fairness and justice, we find ourselves in the same place with the early laborers in the vineyard, exercising judgment on what is equitable, and in so doing end up metering generosity and mercy — not even our own generosity and mercy, but God’s! Now our response becomes, “Better than they deserve…” Our true motivations get called out by the owner of the vineyard when he says, “Are you envious because I am generous?” We end up subject to the same temptation the vineyard laborers experience, the capital sin of envy , the resentment at another’s good fortune. What instead should be the disposition of our hearts? Jesus himself tells us in a related parable about conversion of heart when he says, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance” (Lk 15:7). Joy! We are called to fill our hearts with Joy at God’s generosity and mercy lavished upon our sisters and brothers who hear and heed a call to conversion of heart in Christ, no matter the stage in their lives; joy over one lost sheep who is found and brought home at the end of the day. Joy is the antidote of envy. Joy is our participation in the generosity and mercy of God, the fitting response to God’s generosity and mercy. And it is nothing short of an exercise of Love, which is to will the good of the other. None of us is deserving of God's generous grace and mercy. We do not merit it, nor should we meter it with our judgement, for we are all in need of it.  How are we? I hope and pray, by the grace of God, with Joy in our hearts, “Better than we deserve.”

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Rev. Christopher Welch • September 13, 2026
In the Masterpiece production of The Count of Monte Cristo , the main character is sent to prison; there he meets another prisoner who advises him, “If you seek for revenge, you should first dig two graves.” After the count achieves revenge he tells his friend, “The prisoner was right.” She responds, “Love can heal.” The readings today speak about forgiveness. Forgiveness is about choosing to love. When we forgive the other, we may not receive what we hoped for from the other. Forgiveness or love are not about the other person, but about me. There are many I will choose to love whom I do not like. Love is not simply about feelings, but love is a choice to forgive the other, means not hearing the words “I was wrong” or “I forgive you.” The choice to love may not change the other, but it will change me. One reason Jesus tells Peter to forgive 7 times 70 is that it may take time for the forgiveness to have an effect upon him. Jesus is familiar with the words of Sirach: hate not your neighbor; remember the Most High’s covenant, and overlook faults (Sir 28:7). Sometimes people will ask me why such and such is allowed to act as they do. I find myself reminding them that it is God who judges. King David knew he had done wrong, yet he was able to write the words of Psalm 103 — The Lord is kind and merciful, slow to anger, and rich in compassion — the psalm for today’s Mass. For the many things he did as pope, Pope Francis may be best remembered for a short phrase: "who am I to judge?" When asked who he was, Pope Francis responded, “I am a sinner.” We all have people in our lives who we would like to punish to seek revenge, but the better way is to forgive from our heart. When we forgive, we leave the judging to our God. Remember, it is “love that can heal.”