Third Sunday of Advent, Year A
Readings: Isaiah 35:1–6, 10; Psalm 145(146):6–10; James 5:7–10; Matthew 11:2–11
14 December 2025
“A greater than John the Baptist has never been seen.” – Matthew 11:11
From his prison cell, St John the Baptist seeks assurance: “Are you the one who is to come?” (Mt 11:3). Jesus responds, not with abstract concepts, but with concrete signs: the blind see, the lame walk, the deaf hear. We see a parallel in the perennial Christmas classic, the 1946 movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Doubts engulf George Bailey and cause him to despair. God’s answer is concrete: look at the people you’ve served and the lives you’ve changed for the better. This is the fruit that lasts.
You and I are prisoners of our own making. When we fixate on “mine, mine, mine”—my health, my reputation, my career—we create the very prisons that Christ came to liberate. Personal problems dissolve when they cease to be exclusively mine. When things go wrong, most of us pray: “Why me Lord?” But the saints respond differently: “What will we do now Lord?”
St John may be captive, soon to be murdered, but John is freer than us. He is detached from wealth and comfort, from prestige and reputation. To be happy, we must be detached, too. We give to God our health, our reputation, our career; we keep nothing for ourselves. We can make John’s formula our own: “Christ must increase; I must decrease” (Jn 3:30).
Lord Jesus, help us forget ourselves by serving others, and find the peace that surpasses understanding. Amen.
Fr John Corrigan
Artwork Spotlight
The Annunciation by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825–1905)
The Annunciation (1888). Oil on canvas, 92cm×50cm. Private collection (not publicly displayed). © Sotheby’s / akg-images.
Beginning on 17 December, the Church enters a kind of “Holy Week” preceding Christmas. The last few weeks have been like a mini-Lent—preparing our minds and hearts to accept Christ. They are perhaps best summed up in the account of the two blind men who approach Jesus with the request: “Take pity on us”, and Jesus’ reply, “do you believe I can do this?” (Mt 9:27–28, Friday of Week One). Do I?
Saturday will bring us to the account of the Annunciation. Isaiah’s promise will be fulfilled: “The virgin will soon give birth to a son whom she will call Emmanuel, ‘God is with us’” (Is 7:14). The Annunciation is one of the greatest moments in the history of the world. God erupts into human history as he had at the Burning Bush, promising salvation to his people.
But a gracious God graciously asks our permission in the person of Mary. St Bernard in his homily, In Praise of the Virgin Mother, poetically depicts the world awaiting Mary’s reply: “The price of our salvation is offered to you. We shall be freed at once if you consent. Adam’s entire family begs this of you, O loving Virgin. Abraham begs it, David begs it. All the other holy patriarchs, your ancestors, ask it of you, as they dwell in the country of the shadow of death.
This is what the whole earth waits for, prostrate at your feet, for on your word depends comfort for the wretched, ransom for the captive, freedom for the condemned, indeed, salvation for the whole human race.”
Mary offers herself to God’s kind purposes. Obediently she has been saying “yes” to God every moment until this. Our big “yeses” are usually conditioned by our smaller yeses. And the Gospel spells out the many times in her life that Mary has to confirm that “yes”. She never says “yes” only once— the individual moments of our lives will always spell out the consequences of our initial “yes”. I think back on the time I was in Hobart for a conference. An 80-year-old nun was being interviewed on radio on her birthday. “When did you decide to become a nun?” asked the DJ. “This morning,” she said.
Somehow, God is always waiting for our response. Mary’s response in today’s liturgy is presented in complete contrast to the King of Israel, Ahaz. He refused God’s offer of a sign. He had no confidence in God’s help because he had already made up his mind to place his trust in politics. The consequences were disastrous for Israel. So, God tries again, this time with Mary. He never gives up—he desires our salvation, and he will keep offering himself until we accept. And so, our continued prayer: “Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”
God never threatens us. Rather, as Pope Benedict XVI explained: “God shows himself to us as a humble ‘infant’ to defeat our arrogance. Perhaps we would have submitted more easily to power and wisdom—but he does not want us to submit; rather, he appeals to our hearts and to our free decision to accept his love.”
Sadly, this painting, The Annunciation, by William Adolphe Bouguereau in 1888 is housed in a private collection, so it is rarely, if ever, seen by the public. Bouguereau is regarded as one of the most technically gifted painters of the 19th century. At a time when impressionism and modernism were beginning to challenge traditional forms of painting, Bouguereau stuck to realism, drawing on the influence of Raphael and da Vinci. He trained at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris.
His Annunciation depicts the archangel Gabriel in a flowing purple robe, a colour associated with royalty, for he is announcing the birth of a King. In his left hand he holds a lily, the traditional symbol of Mary’s purity. His right hand points upwards towards the Holy Spirit, seen as a dove enveloped in light, thus showing the source of his message and the means of Christ’s conception.
But most interestingly, the artist presents the angel in an almost liturgical setting. He wears the breastplate which was proper to the high priests of the Old Testament—Christ is the fulfilment of the expectations of God’s people of old. The Divine Child will be High Priest of the new dispensation, the realisation of Israel’s hope. The twelve stones of the breastplate represent the twelve tribes of Israel.
Mary’s slightly bowed head and her hands folded in prayer show her acceptance of the divine message. The faintest halo encircles her head. Bouguereau grounds the scene in daily life—a spinning wheel and basket of yarn symbolise Mary’s domestic life, a model of faithfulness in ordinary work. The potted rose bush reminds us of her title, Mystical Rose, in the Litany of Loreto. This is one of Bouguereau’s finest sacred works.
Mons Graham Schmitzer
Fr John Corrigan
Fr John Corrigan is an assistant priest in the Diocese of Ballarat, ministering in the parish of Sunraysia, centred on Mildura, Victoria. He is known for his Blog of a Country Priest and regular appearances on Network Ten and Foxtel’s Mass for You at Home.
Monsignor Graham Schmitzer
Monsignor Graham Schmitzer is a retired parish priest. He was ordained in 1969 and served in many parishes in the Diocese of Wollongong. He was chancellor and secretary to Bishop William Murray for 13 years. Prior to ordination, he worked for the Department of Attorney General and Justice before entering St Columba’s College in 1962. He enjoys travelling and visiting major European art galleries.
With thanks to the Diocese of Wollongong, who have supplied this reflection from their publication, The Promise: Advent and Christmas Daily Reflections 2025. Reproduced with permission.
