Have you ever heard of something called “rejection therapy”? If that sounds just a bit made up—like one of those TikTok challenges that nobody actually does—well, I promise, it’s real. There’s even an article about it on CNN.

Here’s how it works: You purposely go out looking for ways to get rejected. You stroll into a coffee shop and ask, “Can I get a free latte—just because I look so tired?” Or you walk up to someone in the parking lot: “Hey, can I borrow your car just for a spin around the block?” (Please, don’t do that right after Mass!) Predictably, the answer you get is no. Probably with a weird look. Maybe a call to mall security.

Thank you for taking the time to read this homily for the FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT (December 21, 2025). Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.

And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me.   Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim

The whole point of rejection therapy is to train yourself to get comfortable with being told “no”—so you stop letting that fear of embarrassment or failure hold you back from just living.

On the surface, it sounds kind of ridiculous. I mean, most of us spend our whole lives doing the exact opposite. We try to avoid embarrassment like it’s the plague? Some people dodge invitations just so they never risk being the odd one out at a party. We tiptoe through life, hoping no one will ever say “sorry, not interested.” So, why would someone pay money for a workbook that teaches them to chase after rejection?

But here’s the thing: Rejection therapy is popular because it tackles a real fear. The fear of putting yourself out there. Of risking failure. Of actually showing up, heart and soul, for whatever life—or even God—might throw your way.

And it struck me: as strange as that trend is, there’s some hidden wisdom in it. Because God can work with a “yes,” and He can even work with a “no,” or even move us through our fears.  What He can’t transform is a closed heart. A heart that’s too locked-up or politely distant to even engage in the first place.

That’s what comes to mind with this first reading from the Old Testament, prophet Isaiah.  In this short excerpt, we meet King Ahaz.  It sounds like a beautiful exchange at first, doesn’t it? “The Lord spoke to Ahaz, ‘Ask for a sign from the Lord, as deep as the netherworld or as high as the sky.'”

God isn’t playing hard to get—He’s inviting, offering, yearning for a relationship so intimate, so real, Ahaz is told to ask for a sign, any sign!

And King Ahaz’s answer on the surface sounds polite, even virtuous: “I will not ask! I will not tempt the Lord!” Look at me—so humble. So religious. But Isaiah calls him out. Because beneath the surface, there’s an arrogant refusal hiding behind the mask of religious language. God told him to “Ask,” and his response is more along the lines of, “Thanks… but no thanks.” He doesn’t want to truly engage with God’s offer. He doesn’t want things to change. He prefers a safe distance.

As outrageous as it might seem, that’s not bizarre or rare. That’s actually pretty common.  Because if God invites you into something and you say yes, if you open yourself, it might actually change everything.

Which is why the story of Joseph is so powerful—and so surprising. On the surface, Matthew says “Joseph, being a just man, and unwilling to put Mary to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly.” Again we might think that’s confusion… or suspicion on Joseph’s part.  But dig deeper. The Church, in her wisdom, treasures the idea that Joseph was neither angry nor clueless. He was reverent. He recognized that something holy—something divine—was unfolding in Mary, his betrothed. Joseph loved her already before all this. She was the woman of his dreams, and he probably couldn’t believe he’d been so blessed.

But when he learned about the child in her womb, and what this really meant—that she had been chosen by God to bear the Messiah he and all Israel had waited for—Joseph must have felt utterly unworthy. He didn’t step back because he doubted her, or suspected the worst. He stepped back because he recognized the holiness, the seismic importance, of what was happening. “She’s too good for me. This mission is so much bigger than me.” Isn’t that an experience we sometimes share? Feeling like, “Surely God isn’t calling me into something so immense?”

And yet—when the angel comes to Joseph, he listens.

He surrenders his story, his pride, his plans—and he does so immediately. Matthew puts it so simply: “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.” Joseph doesn’t hesitate. He isn’t paralyzed by the fear of rejection. He doesn’t step aside out of false humility. He steps in, takes Mary as his wife, opens himself to the mission, to the messiness, to the mystery.

I can’t help but wonder—how often do I respond like Ahaz? How often do we dodge God’s invitation, with excuses that sound religious, but really come from fear or pride? “I won’t ask for a sign. I won’t bother God. I won’t tempt the Lord…” when maybe, honestly, I just don’t want my life interrupted?

But God’s dream is not to keep us safe in our routines. God’s dream is to call us, like He called Joseph, into something bigger, stranger, and more beautiful than we could imagine.

And like “rejection therapy,” it requires a willingness to be vulnerable—to risk, to step out, to even face the possibility of pain, embarrassment, or hardship. It takes replacing fear with trust.

This Fourth Sunday of Advent, with Christmas so near, let’s look honestly at what God is asking of us.  For anyone who feels overwhelmed or unworthy or overlooked: Joseph’s story is your story, too. Will you open your life to the Lord’s strange, surprising, sometimes inconvenient plans? Or will you politely keep Him at a distance?

The grace of Advent is this:

God isn’t just asking anyone to step forward.
He’s asking you.

He’s not looking for someone who feels perfectly worthy, completely prepared, or totally fearless. He’s looking for hearts—like Joseph’s—that are open, humble, and willing to say: “Yes, Lord. Take my life. Lead me into your story.”

Let’s not hide behind politeness or spiritual-sounding excuses. Let’s not fear rejection—our own, or God’s. Let’s open wide the doors of our hearts, and let Emmanuel—God with us—come in.

And when we do, we’ll find that the real therapy—the real healing and joy—comes not from avoiding life, but from entering fully into God’s promises, into loving as Joseph loved, and saying yes to the adventure of faith.

May Christ be born in your heart this Christmas, and may you have the courage to say yes to Him all year round.