We end the Church’s year with a vision of victory.
Daniel sees the chaos of history — beasts, thrones, fire, judgment —
and then, like a dawn breaking through storm clouds, he hears the promise:
“The kingship and power and greatness of all the kingdoms under heaven
shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High.”
That’s the final word of Scripture before we enter Advent:
the saints win.
Not the tyrants, not the beasts, not the cynics —
the saints.
Daniel is terrified by what he’s seen.
Beasts devouring, nations rising, evil boasting — it all looks unstoppable.
But the angel explains the meaning:
“The saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess it for ever.”
That’s the story of salvation history in one line.
Evil looks loud but it doesn’t last.
The devil may roar, but his time is short.
The final word belongs to God and to those who stand with Him.
Daniel’s beasts are symbols for the powers of this world —
every empire, ideology, or system that defies God’s law and exalts itself.
They rise from the sea — that is, from chaos.
But God’s Kingdom rises from heaven — that is, from peace.
And in the end, the thrones of arrogance are replaced by the thrones of judgment.
And who sits on them? The saints.
That’s not poetic exaggeration — it’s the truth.
We were made to reign with Christ, to share His victory.
That’s why we finish the year with this reading:
so we never forget who wins.
Jesus ends His teaching in the Gospel with a warning and a promise.
He says:
“Be on your guard,
or your hearts will be weighed down with dissipation, drunkenness,
and the cares of this life,
and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap.”
The warning is simple: don’t get spiritually sleepy.
The end doesn’t come with trumpets for most of us; it comes quietly —
when we stop praying, when faith becomes habit, when conscience goes dull.
That’s why Jesus says,
“Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to stand before the Son of Man.”
The same word used for Daniel’s “saints who stand firm”
is used by Jesus for those who stay awake in prayer.
The saints aren’t superhuman — they’re simply those who stayed alert,
who kept their faith alive when others gave in to distraction.
It’s a perfect bridge into Advent, which begins tomorrow.
Advent isn’t just waiting for Christmas — it’s learning how to wait for Christ.
To live alertly, gratefully, ready for His coming at any moment.
Daniel saw kingdoms fighting; Jesus shows us the battlefield inside.
The danger is not only outside us — it’s in the heart.
“Drunkenness and the cares of life” are not only physical;
they’re spiritual — when the soul becomes heavy with noise, comfort, or busyness.
You don’t have to hate God to drift from Him;
you just have to forget Him.
That’s why the Church ends the year with the word: remember.
Remember who you are. Remember Who you serve.
Remember the Kingdom you belong to.
Daniel’s last line is the key:
“The kingship and power shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High.”
That means heaven isn’t a passive reward — it’s a royal inheritance.
The saints are not spectators; they are heirs.
When you keep faith in hard times,
when you pray when others mock,
when you forgive instead of retaliate —
you are training for kingship.
The world sees weakness; heaven sees readiness.
That’s the difference between fear and faith:
fear says, “The beasts are strong.”
Faith says, “The Kingdom is near.”
And Christ’s Kingdom doesn’t come with fanfare —
it comes in every quiet act of love that endures to the end.
So here we stand — the last day of the Church’s year.
The readings have been about judgment, yes — but also about joy.
Because for those who love Christ, the end is not collapse but completion.
The saints inherit the Kingdom.
So Jesus says again: stay awake.
Stay faithful in little things.
Pray daily.
Confess often.
Live ready.
Because when the world trembles,
the saints stand.
And when the Son of Man comes,
they will rise to greet Him — not in terror, but in triumph.
So tonight, as we prepare for Advent,
let’s begin as Daniel ended —
not afraid of the beasts, but trusting the King.