Homily – St Lucy “A Light That Is Not Put Out”

Today the Church pauses in Advent to remember St Lucy,
a young woman whose name means light.
And it is no accident that her feast falls in the darkest days of the year,
as the nights lengthen and the light seems to fade.

The Word of God today is about light that does not go out,
about witnesses who burn brightly,
even when the world resists the truth they carry.

Sirach speaks first of the prophet Elijah:

“Then Elijah arose, a prophet like fire,
and his word burned like a torch.”

A prophet is not someone who predicts the future.
A prophet is someone who speaks the truth of God into the present —
even when it is unwelcome.

Elijah’s life was difficult, lonely, misunderstood, and dangerous.
But Sirach tells us something important:
his strength did not come from personality or force of will,
but from fire — the fire of God’s word within him.

That fire purified, confronted, and illuminated.

This is the fire John the Baptist carries,
and it is the fire that St Lucy will carry in her own way.

In the Gospel, Jesus explains something His disciples struggle to understand:
Elijah was expected to return before the Messiah.
But Jesus says plainly:

“Elijah has already come, and they did not recognise him.”

John the Baptist came in the spirit of Elijah —
burning with truth, calling for repentance,
preparing the way for the Lord.

And what happened to him?

He was rejected.
Ignored.
Imprisoned.
Killed.

Jesus is honest with His disciples:
this is how light is treated in a world that prefers darkness.
And then He adds quietly:
“The Son of Man will suffer at their hands.”

Advent does not pretend that light is welcomed easily.
It tells us the truth:
light reveals, and revelation is often resisted.

Lucy lived in the early centuries of the Church,
during a time of persecution.
She was young, vulnerable, and outwardly powerless.

But she belonged completely to Christ.
And that made her dangerous to a world built on fear and control.

Lucy refused to deny her faith.
She refused to compromise.
She refused to worship false gods.

And so she was killed.

Yet the Church does not remember her as a victim.
She remembers her as a witness — a martyr.
One whose light was not extinguished by death,
but intensified by it.

The world tried to silence her.
Instead, her name is spoken every year at the altar of God.

That is the paradox of Christian witness:
what the world tries to destroy,
God turns into glory.

Advent light is not decorative.
It is not sentimental.
It is demanding.

The candles we light do not simply make things warm and cosy;
they reveal what is true.

John the Baptist’s light exposed sin.
Elijah’s fire exposed false worship.
Lucy’s witness exposed the emptiness of violence and power.

Advent asks us:
what kind of light do we carry?

Is it the light of convenience,
which dims when it becomes costly?
Or the light of truth,
which remains even when it costs something?

Most of us will never be called to die for the faith.
But all of us are called to live visibly as Christians.

That means:

choosing truth when silence would be easier

choosing fidelity when compromise would be simpler

choosing prayer when distraction feels more natural

choosing Christ when the world prefers darkness

Light does not shout.
It simply shines.

And even a small flame matters.

Jesus tells us that John the Baptist was not recognised.
St Lucy was not celebrated in her lifetime.
But heaven recognised them.

That is enough.

On this feast of St Lucy,
in the darkening days of Advent,
the Church reminds us of a quiet but powerful truth:

Light does not need permission to shine.
It only needs faithfulness.

May the fire of God’s word burn in us —
not to consume, but to illuminate.
May the courage of St Lucy strengthen us.
And may Christ, the true Light,
find us ready when He comes.

St Lucy, virgin and martyr,
pray for us.