Finding joy on Gaudete and Laetare Sundays

“PIIIINNNKKK!”

Last Sunday, I sat in the pew with my family. The entrance procession passed by, and I saw the priest and deacon in a color we do not see every week at Mass.

“PIIIINNNKKK!”

Well, not pink. The proper word is Rose. Still, my mind sprinted straight to that word, and there is a reason. When my son was small, we spent some time watching a little show called “Sarah and Duck.”

An episode called “The Art of Pink” stayed with me. The art gallery hosts a celebration of the color pink. A girl named Plate Girl walks up to the microphone, takes a breath, and screams one word. “PINK!” She keeps going until her face turns pink to match everything around her. (See image)

Back then, I watched that episode with my son on the couch. Now, that memory shows up in a pew twice a year. On the third Sunday of Advent and the fourth Sunday of Lent, the priest and deacon walk in wearing Rose. Whenever I see those vestments, some part of me still wants to act like Plate Girl and shout “PINK!” across the church. I do not, of course, but the thought brings a grin every time.

This year, I decided to lean into that humor a bit. Priests often do the same thing at the start of their homilies on these days. They make a quiet joke about wearing pink, then gently correct everyone to Rose. A single line of humor brings smiles in the pews and those smiles loosens hearts. I trust God uses small moments like that as a doorway for grace.

Still, questions rose in my heart over time. Why Rose at all? Why only on these two Sundays? What is Gaudete Sunday in Advent and Laetare Sunday in Lent?

Both seasons carry a serious tone. With purple hanging on the altar and the readings calling for repentance, prayer, fasting, and a deep change of heart, Rose does not push that aside. It lightens the purple.

The third Sunday of Advent carries the name Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete means “Rejoice.” The name comes from the entrance antiphon for the Mass, drawn from Saint Paul. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again, rejoice” (Philippians 4:4). In the middle of Advent prayer and preparation, the Church lifts that word high.

Advent remembers two comings at the same time. First, the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem. Second, the promise of His return in glory. Purple reminds us this waiting matters. You and I prepare our hearts, clean out old sins, and wake up hope. On the third Sunday, Rose steps in as a quiet reminder. Joy already lives inside this waiting as Christ draws near.

The readings echo that theme. We hear good news for the poor and healing for the brokenhearted. We hear calls to hope for those who wait for God to move. Short phrases such as “The Lord is near” press close, almost like a friend leaning in.

Rose vestments turn that message into something we see. The color feels like a dimmer switch turning slowly toward brighter light in the middle of a dark room. The room has not changed, yet brightness grows, and eyes start to notice more.

Later in the year, Lent reaches the halfway point. The fourth Sunday carries the name Laetare Sunday. Laetare also means “Rejoice.” Once again, the name comes from the entrance antiphon, this time from Isaiah. “Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad because of her, all you who love her” (Isaiah 66:10).

By that point in Lent, spiritual fuel often runs low. Fasting wears on the body. Old habits push back. The cross feels closer and heavier than ever. Rose returns right in the middle of that struggle. The color speaks in a quiet way. Do not give up. Easter waits ahead. Grace continues to work even when effort feels weak.

Lent never turns into a party. The call to conversion stays in front of us. Laetare Sunday offers something different. A breath. A pause. A taste of joy before the full joy of Easter. Flowers often return to the sanctuary. Music grows a little lighter. Rose surrounds the altar as a sign of hope in the middle of sacrifice.

On both Gaudete and Laetare Sundays, Rose appears as a softer shade of purple, one that leans toward light. The color still connects to penance, yet joy runs through every stitch of those vestments. In Advent, Rose points toward Christmas and in Lent, Rose points toward Easter. One color draws both seasons toward Christ.

All of this only holds together because Christ stands at the center. Joy on Gaudete Sunday flows from His approach. Joy on Laetare Sunday springs from His victory. Without Jesus, Rose vestments would offer nothing more than a seasonal change in wardrobe. With Jesus, Rose becomes a sign of grace.

Paul writes, “The Lord is near” (Philippians 4:5). That promise holds Advent together. Near in the manger. Near in the sacraments. Near in every moment when hearts turn toward Him. During Lent, many of us turn to one of the most familiar verses of all. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life” (John 3:16). Joy on Laetare Sunday flows from that promise.

Rose does not pretend pain and sacrifice disappear. Rose reminds us joy grows right through those places because Christ already passed through death into life.

So where does Plate Girl belong in all this? For me, that memory keeps my heart awake. When the priest walks out in Rose, that scene from “Sarah and Duck” pops into my mind. I picture myself and my son as a little boy, curled up together on the couch. I hear that shout of “PINK” from the gallery microphone. Then my thoughts move toward the deeper reason because the Church chose this color with great care.

Rose tells me Advent holds more than stress about gifts and decorations. Rose tells me Lent holds more than weak efforts and failed fasts. Both seasons move toward Christ and carry joy under the surface. Rose lifts that joy into view for a short Sunday and whispers, “Look again. Hope lives here.”

So, next time you see Rose vestments, your own memory might rise to the surface. A story from years ago. A person you miss. A moment that once brought laughter or peace. Let that memory lead you toward prayer. Ask Jesus to show you where joy waits inside your current season, even where life feels cold or heavy.

As for me, those Sundays will always bring me back to a cartoon girl yelling about pink. I might still lean over to my family and whisper “PINK” for a quick giggle. Under that smile, I know what Rose means now. I know Advent joy and Lenten hope shine through that color. I know Christ stands close, even before Christmas or Easter arrives.

When Rose returns to the altar, pause for a moment. Look toward the vestments. Offer a simple “Thank you” to the Lord for joy that endures, even when your heart feels worn. Pray for grace to keep moving. Ask for eyes that notice Christ coming toward you in every season.

“Sarah & Duck” and all related characters, including Plate Girl, are owned by Karrot Animation and the BBC. Used here in a limited way for commentary in a non-commercial personal blog.