Third Sunday of Advent – Year A
December 14, 2025 – 10:30 AM
Saint Cecilia Catholic Community, Palm Springs, California
Rev. David Justin Lynch
Isaiah 35:1-6a;10 | Psalm 146:6-10
James 5:7-10 | Matthew 11:2-12
+ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, AMEN.
ICE, and its brutal encounters with immigrants, continue to be in the news every day. Recent reports within the past few weeks have detailed several alleged incidents involving excessive force during immigration enforcement operations, as well as ongoing concerns regarding inhumane conditions and abuse in detention facilities.
During immigration enforcement operations in Charlotte, North Carolina, U.S. Customs and Border Protection agents were captured on video smashing the car windows of individuals, including a U.S. citizen named Willy Aceituno. They were dragged from their vehicles and thrown to the ground.
News reports highlight torture, abuse, and severe medical neglect in various facilities. The A-C-L-U sued the Trump administration over conditions at the California City Detention Facility, citing inadequate food, water, and critical medical care. The Los Angeles Times reported detailed accounts of pregnant immigrants being shackled during miscarriages and denied prenatal care in Louisiana detention centers.
This list of horrible incidents goes on and on, ad infinitum. This despicable behavior is about the farthest thing from what our country should be doing at this time of year, that is, joyfully preparing for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Our conservative sisters and brothers, people who claim to be Bible-believing Christians, ignore the numerous passages in both the Old and New Testaments that are directly relevant to how America should treat immigrants. For example, Leviticus 19:33-34 tells us, “When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself.”
Another example is Ephesians 2:11-22, which describes how Christ broke down the separation between Jewish and Gentile believers, creating a new, unified humanity called the Church. It explains that those who were once “far off,” that is. non-Jews, and “near,” meaning the Jews, have been brought together in one body by Jesus’ sacrifice, which abolished the hostility and created peace. The passage concludes by stating that believers are now fellow citizens, members of God’s household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets with Christ as the cornerstone.
Isaiah’s prophetic words in today’s Gospel Acclamation, “the Lord has anointed me to bring good tidings to the poor, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives,” are fulfilled in Jesus’ ministry and echoed each Advent.
On this Third Sunday of Advent, we wear Rose vestments to celebrate Gaudete Sunday. “Guadete” is Latin for “rejoice.” To “rejoice in the Lord” is not a hollow cheer, but a cry that arises when God’s justice conquers suffering. In that word today, we remind ourselves that God’s justice is for bodies and souls. It is a call to transform the world so all people can flourish, not just to promise relief in the next life.
For many immigrants, rejoicing in hope means something tangible: a chance to build a life, heal from trauma, or be reunited with family. It means knowing their struggle is not forgotten by the Church, or by God. Isaiah’s message summons the entire People of God to join in liberating work—advocating for the rights of migrants, dismantling unjust systems, and offering hospitality that mirrors God’s love.
The story of Mary and Joseph on their journey to Bethlehem is, at its heart, a migration story. Ordered by imperial decree, they traveled far from home—vulnerable, poor, and in need of shelter. Scripture subtly makes it clear: God’s own Son enters history as one who is subject to the world’s power structures, an outsider in unfamiliar territory, dependent on the mercy of others.
Liberation theology, born in the struggles of the poor in Latin America, insists that we find Jesus now, as then, “in the faces of the poor and the migrant”. We see that Jesus is not simply for the oppressed but is with them. Our faith can never be separated from concrete solidarity with oppressed people.
To rejoice is not a retreat into private comfort, but a push into the world’s struggles. Advent joy has flesh and blood, found in acts of mercy and justice.
Catholic social teaching affirms the right to migrate to support one’s life and family and insists that the goods of the earth are meant for all. Welcoming the stranger is not optional charity but a command rooted in the Gospel, in which Jesus says that receiving the migrant is receiving Him. This teaching is clear: to rejoice in the Lord is to welcome, defend, and advocate for immigrants today, confronting laws or attitudes that dehumanize, exclude, or exploit.
I invite you today to consider the ways social systems perpetuate injustice. The plight of today’s migrants results not only from individual choices but from global economic inequalities, violence, and policies that separate families or deny asylum.
As followers of Jesus, we are called to examine our participation in such structures. Do we speak against harmful narratives about migrants? Do we support reforms that offer paths to safety and citizenship? Do we see the immigrant not as a threat, but as a fellow image-bearer of God?
John the Baptist challenges complacency in this Sunday’s Gospel as he calls people beyond religious ritual to active fruit-bearing. The witness of migrants and refugees today echoes this challenge; their hope in adversity proclaims God’s coming kingdom more powerfully than any speech.
In the witness of migrant families, we find Advent hope in the shadows of fear but shining all the brighter. To respond with indifference would be to miss the liberating presence of Christ in our midst.
Catholic theology points to the Magnificat as the song of God’s liberating action. Mary praises a God who “lifts up the lowly, fills the hungry with good things,” and topples oppressive powers. Our laws and politics must serve this vision: a society where migrants and the marginalized find room at the inn of our church and our hearts.
The Holy Family’s flight to Egypt makes them the archetype of every refugee family. In their journey, we see the risks, fears, and faith of countless people today seeking safety. A church is a spiritual “field hospital” open to all. We are called to accompany migrants not only with material support, but with advocacy and friendship that reflect the hospitality of God Himself.
The Catholic tradition recognizes itself as a “pilgrim” church on the move, never fully at home until all are gathered at God’s table. Migration is not an anomaly to be managed, but a core experience of salvation history.
We see this in Abraham’s journey from Ur to Canaan.
We see this in Moses leading the Israelites on their Exodus through the Red Sea from Egypt to Sinai, the journey of many peoples from everywhere to the Temple Mount to celebrate Pentecost.
Our own ancestors, many of whom were immigrants or refugees, remind us that the Gospel breaks down walls. In receiving newcomers, we encounter God’s Spirit stretching, challenging, and renewing us.
Advent faith looks honestly at the world’s darkness—violence, xenophobia, broken systems—and proclaims a different hope. Such hope is not naive: it is “prayer without ceasing,” sustained action, and relentless welcome.
This Advent season, to rejoice is to resist the powers of exclusion. It is to join with migrants in singing new songs of liberation. It is to be ready, like the people of old, to “see what God is doing,” and get involved ourselves.
How do we do that?
Let us celebrate the gifts immigrants bring, from faith traditions to economic contributions and cultural renewal.
Let us educate ourselves about Catholic social teaching on migration and the stories of those forced to leave home.
Let us examine our hearts for attitudes of exclusion or indifference.
Let us commit to works of justice and mercy by advocating for immigration reform, supporting local shelters, and befriending newcomers.
The joy of Advent is always a revolutionary joy. It looks oppression in the face, and proclaims that the Lord is near to the suffering. As Gaudete Sunday invites us to rejoice, let our joy be the kind that acts, welcomes, advocates, and makes straight the highway for the coming of our God—a God ever found in the migrant, the stranger, and the hope of all peoples.
May we join with Mary, Joseph, and all who journey in faith this Advent, laboring for a world “where all flesh shall see the salvation of our God.” Amen.