Jan. 25, 2026 @ St. Patrick’s Parish Church (9am, 11am & 4PM Masses)
Brothers and sisters, today, we gather
on this 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time and many of you recognize and know that the
liturgical color for this season is green. This is one way the Church reminds
us that ordinary time is the Church’s invitation that we grow in our faith.
In the liturgical language, green
speaks of hope, growth, and patient trust. It teaches us that God’s work
in our lives often happens slowly, faithfully, and beneath the surface.
Growth in faith is seldom dramatic. There is a saying that if you spend your life sleeping, you will still grow old but not necessarily grow up. Growing up in faith is not the same as acquiring knowledge about faith (learning faith is easy and handy now because of AI).
It is not about what you know or how
much you know, but Who do you know. To grow in faith is like a seed quietly
taking root, nourished over time by his Word, his Grace, and his Presence.
And in the next 32 weeks including
today (minus of course the seasons of Lent, Holy Week and Easter in between), we
are given this sacred opportunity to walk alongside Jesus in his daily
ministry.
To listen to his parables, to witness
his compassion, and to see how the Kingdom of God takes shape in ordinary
moments. We will see Jesus move from village to village, watch him heal, hear
him teach, and in the Gospel today, how he calls ordinary people to follow him.
We want to experience being with Jesus
in his ministry not as spectators or admirers but for who God intended us to be
when he took on flesh and became one of us – to be his disciples. And hopefully
33 weeks is long enough for his way of living and loving to begin shaping our
own.
Today, this invitation is deepened
because the Church also celebrates the Sunday of the Word of God. Which
means that the Scripture is not simply something we hear proclaimed at Mass.
The Word of God is meant to dwell within us, to take root in our hearts,
and to shape how we see the world, how we make decisions, and how we live our
lives.
This Sunday, Jesus the Word of God
made flesh asks us not only:
‘What do I hear at Mass? but How
does the Word I hear change the way I live?’
And in today’s liturgical readings, we
would like to do just that. We want and desire this growth by being with Jesus at
the beginning of his journey and ministry. Today, Jesus gives us two powerful
realities that demand answer and action:
· His coming as light in the darkness,
and
· His call that demands a personal
response from each and every one of us
The readings we hear today are not anymore for the people at the time of
Isaiah and the time of Jesus. They are for us.
In the first reading, the prophet
Isaiah proclaims a message of profound joy and hope:
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”
He spoke these words amidst the
destruction of the northern kingdom of Israel (Samaria) by Assyria which left
Judah isolated and vulnerable. Isaiah speaks to people who know darkness well.
The kind of darkness many of us can relate. They were weary, uncertain, and
struggling to imagine a future.
This light that he boldly proclaimed is
not simply a change in circumstances. It is not the promise that everything
will suddenly become easy.
Rather, it is the promise of God’s
presence. When he comes, while the darkness remains, but this light in the darkness,
his presence amidst us is a promise that transformation is possible even before
situations change. This light that God offers is the assurance that darkness
will not have the final word. That sickness, unemployment, broken relationships
and even the death of someone we love don’t have the final word.
The responsorial psalm echoes this
same confidence with words many of us know by heart:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?”
This is the heart of our faith. Not
that we will never experience fear, struggle, or loss, but that God’s
presence dispels our deepest fears when we place our trust in him. The
psalm reminds us that light is not the absence of darkness; it is the presence
of God within it.
When we turn to the Gospel, we hear Matthew
tells us that when Jesus begins his public ministry in Galilee, he does so by a
proclamation:
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
In other words:
God is near. A new way of living is possible.
In this Gospel proclamation, we see that
before Jesus teaches in synagogues or performs miracles, he calls (latin:
vocare). He walks along the shore and calls ordinary fishermen: Simon
and Andrew; James and John. These are not scholars or religious elites.
They don’t have advanced standings. They are working men, busy with nets, with
their routines, responsibilities, and familial and communal expectations.
And here are the lessons of this call
that we want to open our hearts with:
First, Jesus comes to us where we are.
·
Jesus does not wait for the disciples to come looking for him.
· He does not summon them to a holy
place.
· He meets them at work, in the middle
of their daily lives.
In the same way, Christ meets us not
only in church, but in our homes, workplaces, relationships, joys, and
struggles. The Word of God is not confined to sacred spaces; it seeks us out in
the ordinary.
Second, the call is personal and
transformative.
·
Jesus simply says, “Follow me.”
· There are no long explanations, no
detailed plans, no guarantees.
· Yet this simple invitation changes
everything. The fishermen leave their nets—symbols of security, identity, and
livelihood—and follow him.
Their response reminds us that true
discipleship always involves letting go. We may not leave literal nets behind,
but we are invited to release whatever prevents us from trusting Christ fully.
Third, the mission extends beyond us.
· After calling his first disciples,
Jesus begins to proclaim the Gospel throughout Galilee.
· Following Jesus is never just about
personal fulfillment or private faith.
· It is always missionary.
· To encounter the Word is to be sent.
Brothers and sisters, the disciples
did not follow a doctrine or a manual; they followed a Voice. Today, that same
vox—the Word of God made flesh—echoes in this sanctuary and in our hearts. And
as we continue with the liturgy and celebration, let us look at our hands. What
'nets' are we clutching? Is it past hurt, a need for control, or the comfort of
the 'ordinary'?
The Sunday of the Word of God
reminds us that Scripture is not a dead letter. It is not a fairy tale story we
tell to make believe but a living invitation.
And I pray for all of you who are
here. May we leave this Mass not just as people who have heard a story, but as
disciples who have answered a Call. May his Voice be our light, His grace be
our strength, and His life be our way.
The Kingdom is at hand. God is
near. God is here. Let us drop our nets and step into the Light.
Amen.
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