St Paul and Jesus speak today about two kingdoms:
one built by sin,
the other built by grace.
One ruled by Adam,
the other ruled by Christ.

Paul says, “Where sin increased, grace overflowed all the more.”
That’s one of the greatest lines in the whole Bible —
the headline of salvation history.
Where sin grew strong, grace grew stronger.
Where the fall began, redemption began to rise.

Paul reminds us that one man’s sin — Adam’s — let death enter the world.
But one Man’s obedience — Christ’s — opened the door to eternal life.

Adam took and grasped;
Christ gave and offered.
Adam’s act poisoned the well;
Christ’s blood purified it.

Through Adam, we lost our home.
Through Christ, we found our way back.

Sin may have been the first word in human history,
but grace will be the last.

St Paul doesn’t say grace balanced sin — he says grace overflowed.
That’s the Catholic vision of salvation.
God doesn’t just fix the damage — He floods the ruins with glory.

Where you’ve failed, He offers forgiveness.
Where you’ve been wounded, He offers healing.
Where you’ve been lost, He offers direction.

Grace isn’t God giving us another chance;
it’s God giving us a new life.

That’s why the Church calls baptism a rebirth.
And that’s why confession isn’t a trip to the guilt bin —
it’s a resurrection in miniature.

Every sacrament is grace overflowing,
Christ stepping into our poverty with His plenty.

Then in the Gospel, Jesus turns the picture around and says: “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit.”

He’s not talking about anxiety — He’s talking about readiness.
Readiness for the Lord’s coming,
readiness for love’s demands,
readiness for the grace that knocks at unexpected hours.

And then He gives one of the most beautiful images in Scripture: “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes.
Truly I tell you, he will put on an apron,
have them sit down at table,
and he will wait on them.”

That’s the heart of heaven:
the Lord who came to serve once, serves forever.
The Master who girded Himself with a towel at the Last Supper
will gird Himself again at the eternal banquet.

The One we watch for
is already watching over us.

So what does it mean to be ready?
Not to be nervous — but to be faithful.
To live each day as if it matters eternally — because it does.
To keep your lamp burning with prayer,
your heart clean through mercy,
and your hands ready for service.

Faithful readiness isn’t about fear of inspection —
it’s about love in expectation.
We don’t wait for Christ like employees waiting for a boss.
We wait like the Bride waiting for the Bridegroom.

And while we wait, we work — not out of dread, but devotion.

Sometimes people think readiness means guilt.
They imagine God as a strict examiner checking if they’ve done enough.
But Paul reminds us: it’s not about our merit; it’s about His mercy.

If you’re living in His grace — if you’re praying, forgiving, trying —
you are ready.
Not perfect, but faithful.
And when the Master knocks,
you’ll recognise His voice —
because you’ve been listening to it all along.

Every Mass is both grace and readiness.
Here grace overflows again —
sin is forgiven, faith is fed, and hope is rekindled.

And here we practise for heaven.
Because at this altar,
the Master once more puts on His apron,
and waits on His servants with His own Body and Blood.

This is the sign of how heaven will be:
God serving His people with love that never ends.

So today, take heart from St Paul:
sin never gets the last word — grace does.

And take courage from Christ:
the Master who comes is not out to catch you sleeping,
but to welcome you home.

Be ready, yes — but ready with joy,
ready with gratitude,
ready with lamps burning bright in a dark world.