The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord brings the Christmas season to its fulfillment by revealing who Jesus truly is and how he chooses to begin his public mission. In Matthew’s Gospel (Mt 3:13–17, NAB), Jesus comes to the Jordan not because he needs repentance, but to fully enter into the human condition. Although sinless, He chooses to stand where sinners stand.

​Today we celebrate one of the oldest and most profound Marian feasts in the Church's calendar. Eight days after Christmas, as we begin a new year, the Church invites us to contemplate Mary under her most exalted title: Mother of God, Theotokos.

​Today's Feast of the Holy Family confronts us with a startling image: the Son of God as a refugee child, fleeing violence with his parents under cover of darkness. This is not a sentimental portrait of domestic bliss, but a revelation of how God enters into our most vulnerable moments and transforms them through faithful love.

​On this Christmas Day, the Church lifts our eyes beyond the manger to contemplate an astonishing and deeply consoling mystery behind it: God has entered our history. The celebration of the Incarnation is not simply about a birth long ago, but about God choosing forever to be with us, in the midst of our fragile and wounded world.

​As we light the fourth candle of Advent—the candle of love—we stand at the threshold of Christmas, gazing at the extraordinary convergence of promise, fulfillment, and mission that defines this final Sunday of waiting.

This Fourth Sunday of Advent gathers us into anticipation of Christmas, when expectation turns into readiness and hope takes on a human face. The Scripture readings form a continuous link from promise to fulfillment that testifies to God's covenant love The waiting of Advent reaches its most intimate moment. Love draws near.​

The Promise of a Redeemer
In the first reading (Isaiah 7:10–14), the prophet Isaiah speaks into a moment of national crisis, we hear a sign offered to a hesitant King Ahaz that transcends his immediate troubles: 

“The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel”—God with us. 

It is a moment of divine reassurance: God remains steadfast and this prophetic promise becomes more than a message for an ancient king but it becomes a declaration for all ages; that God is faithful even when our world feels unstable, when humanity finds itself in darkness, unable to save itself, God doesn't remain distant. Love propels God toward us. The promise of a Redeemer springs out of divine love, His unshakable commitment to dwell with His people. It is a revelation of God's character. Isaiah's promise emerges from the heart of covenant faithfulness. Despite Israel's repeated failures, despite their kings' lack of faith, God pledges to remain present. The name Immanuel captures the essence of divine love: not a love that commands from afar, but one that enters into our condition, that pitches its tent among us.

Fulfillment in the Gospel
Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew 1:18–24) reveals how that ancient promise finds fulfillment in Jesus in a quiet, vulnerable way. Joseph, a righteous man, faces confusion and disappointment. His plans are unraveling and perhaps he now faces his own quiet crisis of faith. His betrothed is pregnant, and he knows he isn't the father. Matthew tells us Joseph planned to dismiss Mary quietly, showing him to be a man trying to be merciful within the constraints of law and honor.  In the midst of confusion, the angel tells him, 

"Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit."

God’s love intervenes, not by removing the difficulty, but by inviting trust. Joseph’s obedience is an act of love. He chooses compassion over rejection, faith over fear. When he takes Mary into his home and names the child Jesus, he participates in God’s saving plan. Emmanuel, “God with us,” becomes real through Joseph’s courage and Mary’s yes.

The virgin birth isn't merely a biological miracle; it's a theological statement. This child will be different because his origin is different. He comes entirely from God's initiative, entirely from love. But this fulfillment is also not only theological but relational—it shows love entering the world not through spectacle but through humble acceptance and faith. 

The Witness of Paul
In Paul’s letter to the Romans (Romans 1:1–7), the apostle bears witness to the long-awaited promise now realized in Christ. Paul identifies himself as a

“servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God.”

The good news he proclaims is not new in origin but

“promised beforehand through the prophets.”

In this brief greeting, Paul testifies that the story of salvation is one continuous act of love from promise, to incarnation, to the mission of the Church. The love revealed in Jesus calls believers to live differently, to belong to Christ and to reflect His grace in the world. Paul’s words remind us that love transforms obligation into joyful witness. We, too, are called to carry that love into the world.

​The Candle of Love — What It Means Today
As we light the Candle of Love, our reflection now turns from prophecy to presence. The love we celebrate is not sentimental; it is steadfast, self-giving, and redemptive. It is the love that moves God to become Emmanuel, to share in our struggles and heal our divisions.

In our time, marked by fear, anger, polarization, and loneliness, the candle of love calls us to reflect God’s own character. To love as God loves means to cross barriers, to listen more deeply, to forgive more freely, and to embody mercy in practical ways. It means, like Joseph today and Mary at the Annunciation, trusting in God’s unfolding plan even when it defies easy understanding.

As Advent ends and Christmas dawns, the candle of love reminds us that love is both the origin and goal of our faith. The Redeemer promised by the prophets, revealed in the Gospel, and proclaimed by Paul continues to be born in every heart that dares to love with courage and hope.

This Christmas, may we, like Joseph, make room for Emmanuel and allow God’s faithful love to take flesh in our lives.

Peace
Deacon Michel

Advent’s third Sunday, Gaudete Sunday, dares the church to rejoice even when the world feels anything but joyful. But how do we rejoice when the world seems so troubled; when suffering persists, when justice seems delayed, when the promises of God feel distant? Our world is marked by anxiety, violence, economic uncertainty, illness, and personal struggles. Can joy, therefore, be anything more than a fleeting emotion or feeble optimism?

​The readings for this Third Sunday of Advent in Year A speak powerfully to this tension between promise and fulfillment, between hope and reality, between what we long for and what we can see.