Homily 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A I Homily 25 January 2026 Year A

 https://youtu.be/dKFx2dg_EZ4

My dear friends today we celebrate the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A. Today’s

readings remind us that God enters our darkness with light, calls us from division to unity,

and invites us out of comfort into a deeper mission.

In the first reading taken from the prophet Isaiah, Isaiah addresses the people of Israel when

they were facing fear, political instability, and foreign threat. The northern regions of Zebulun

and Naphtali were among the first to suffer invasion by the Assyrian empire. These lands

experienced humiliation, loss, and despair. It is into this painful reality that Isaiah announces

God’s promise. Isaiah does not deny the suffering of the people. Instead, he names it honestly.

Yet the message quickly turns toward hope. The prophet declares that the same land once

covered in darkness will see a great light. This light is not just physical brightness but a sign

of God’s saving presence returning to His people. Isaiah speaks of joy like that at harvest

time or after a military victory. These are moments of relief, celebration, and restored dignity.

God promises to break the yoke that burdens the people — symbols of oppression, fear, and

injustice. This liberation is described as God’s action alone, reminding Israel that salvation

comes not through human power but through divine mercy. This passage speaks deeply to our

own experiences of darkness — moments of uncertainty, fear, or spiritual dryness. Like the

people of Isaiah’s time, we often look for quick solutions or human security. Yet Isaiah

reminds us that true light comes from God. Christians see this promise fulfilled in Jesus

Christ, who pierces personal darkness—addictions, grief, sin—with liberating light. The text

invites us to trust that God is at work even when life feels heavy and unclear. Where there is

darkness today, God still promises light, joy, and freedom.

In the second reading taken from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, St Paul addresses a

serious problem in the early Christian community at Corinth: division. The Corinthians were

arguing among themselves and forming groups based on which preacher they preferred —

Paul, Apollos, Cephas (Peter), or even claiming to belong only to Christ. These divisions

were damaging the unity of the Church and distracting believers from the heart of the Gospel.

Paul begins with a strong appeal for unity. He urges the community to be “of the same mind

and the same purpose.” This does not mean that everyone must think exactly alike, but that

they must be united in faith, love, and mission. For Paul, division among believers is a

contradiction of what it means to belong to Christ. He asks pointed questions: “Is Christ

divided? Was Paul crucified for you?” These questions remind the Corinthians that their faith

is cantered on Jesus alone, not on human leaders. Paul then clarifies his own role. He says

that Christ did not send him primarily to baptize, but to preach the Gospel. This is not a

rejection of baptism, but a reminder that the power of faith does not come from rituals or

personalities. Salvation comes through the message of the cross. Paul insists that the Gospel

must not depend on human wisdom, eloquence, or status, because that would empty the cross

of its true power. This passage challenges us to examine our own attitudes within the Church.

We too can become divided by preferences, opinions, or loyalty to certain leaders or groups.

Paul reminds us that unity is not built on personalities but on Christ crucified. When we focus

more on who is right than on loving one another, we weaken our witness. This reading calls 

us back to humility, unity, and a deeper trust in the saving power of the cross, which alone

brings true life and peace.

Many of us have experienced this: someone suggests a new way of doing a familiar task. Our

first reaction is resistance. We are comfortable with the old way. There is a fear of uncertainty

or attachment to control and we end up saying “This is how we’ve always done it” Why

change?” We are not against improvement; we are simply comfortable where we are.

Familiar routines feel safe, even when they limit us. In the gospel taken from Matthew, Jesus

begins his public ministry after hearing that John the Baptist has been arrested. Instead of

withdrawing in fear, Jesus moves forward. He goes to Galilee, a place considered ordinary,

mixed, and even looked down upon. Matthew reminds us that this fulfils Isaiah’s prophecy:

the people who lived in darkness have seen a great light. Jesus brings God’s light not to the

powerful centres, but to those living on the margins.

Jesus’ first message is simple and challenging: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come

near.” Repentance here means a change of direction — turning away from old ways and

opening one’s life to God. Then Jesus calls his first disciples. Simon Peter, Andrew, James,

and John are ordinary fishermen. Jesus does not force them. He invites them: “Follow me,

and I will make you fish for people.” God seeks human cooperation; He does not impose His

power. The call is gentle, but it is radical. Following him requires letting go — of security,

comfort, and sometimes even relationships or dreams that define us. The call is demanding,

but it opens the door to a greater mission than anything they had imagined. They were fishing

for survival; Jesus calls them to fish for people — to participate in God’s work of bringing

life, hope, and salvation. Jesus then travels throughout Galilee teaching, preaching, and

healing. His ministry reveals a God who does not stay distant but walks among people,

touching wounds and restoring dignity. The fishermen were comfortable with their routine —

casting nets, mending boats, and knowing what each day would bring. When Jesus invited

them to follow him, he was offering something new and unfamiliar. Their decision to follow

required courage: leaving what was familiar for something uncertain, trusting that God’s

vision was greater than their own. This Gospel challenges us to ask: what are the “nets” we

cling to? Fear, comfort, routine, or control? God does not force us, but He invites us into

something bigger than ourselves. When we dare to trust him, we may lose what feels safe —

but we discover a deeper purpose. This week, Christ passes by our shore again. He does not

force us, but he invites us. May we have the courage to leave our nets and follow the light.

May God bless us all.