Homily – First Sunday of Advent (Year A) “Wake Up: The Lord Is Near”

A new Church year begins today.
Advent doesn’t start with carols, candles, and comfort — it starts with a wake-up call.
It begins not in the crib of Bethlehem, but in the shadow of eternity.
Because before we prepare for Christ’s birth, we must prepare for His return.

Advent means arrival — not only of the child in the manger,
but of the King who will come again in glory.
The first coming in humility; the second in majesty.
And between those two, we live our lives — the time between His coming and His coming again.

Our first reading is one of the most beautiful prophecies in the Old Testament.
Isaiah looks forward to a day when

“the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and all nations shall flow to it.” (Isaiah 2:2, ESV)

He sees people streaming towards Jerusalem — not to conquer, but to learn.

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord… that He may teach us His ways.”

It’s an image of peace and conversion —
swords turned into ploughshares, spears into pruning hooks,
nations learning war no more.

This isn’t a utopian fantasy; it’s a prophecy of the Kingdom of Christ.
Isaiah is describing what happens when the world finally bends the knee to God — when worship, not war, becomes humanity’s instinct.

But we’re not there yet.
The world still beats ploughshares into swords.
We live in a culture that prizes noise, self, and comfort,
and forgets what is holy.
Yet Isaiah still calls: “O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.”

That’s the Advent invitation — to leave the darkness and walk toward the mountain.
To start climbing again toward holiness.

Then St Paul’s voice breaks through the centuries like an alarm clock for the soul:

“You know the time, that the hour has come for you to wake from sleep.
For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.
The night is far gone; the day is at hand.” (Romans 13:11–12, ESV)

It’s as if he’s saying: “Christ is closer than you think. Wake up.”

The danger for most Christians isn’t open rebellion — it’s spiritual drowsiness.
We’re not atheists shaking our fists at heaven;
we’re half-asleep disciples hitting the snooze button on grace.

Paul names the symptoms:

“Let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armour of light…
not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality,
not in quarrelling and jealousy.” (vv.13–14)

He’s not scolding; he’s diagnosing.
The darkness he describes isn’t just moral sin — it’s spiritual lethargy.
The soul that stops praying, the heart that stops yearning,
the faith that becomes routine instead of relationship.

And then Paul gives the antidote: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” (v.14)

That’s the essence of Advent.
To clothe ourselves anew in Christ —
not just by words, but by living differently.
To wear His patience, His purity, His mercy.
To be recognisable as His disciples in a dark world.

The night is far gone.
We’ve slept long enough.
The Church’s alarm clock is ringing: “Wake up, the Lord is near.”

Jesus, in the Gospel, deepens that warning.
He says: “As were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.” (Matthew 24:37, ESV)

What were those days like?
He tells us: “They were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage,
until the day when Noah entered the ark.” (v.38)

In other words — normal.
Ordinary.
Life as usual.

That’s the shock of the passage.
The danger isn’t that we’ll commit spectacular sins —
it’s that we’ll drift through life half-awake, doing nothing out of the ordinary,
and miss eternity when it arrives.

They weren’t wicked monsters — they were distracted people.
And then the flood came.

Jesus says: “Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left.
Two women grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left.
Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (vv.40–42)

He’s not giving a rapture timetable — He’s describing readiness of heart.
The dividing line isn’t between churchgoers and non-churchgoers —
it’s between those who live prepared and those who don’t.

Advent is the season that asks:
“If Christ returned today, would He find me ready?”

“Stay awake” doesn’t mean panic; it means purpose.
It means living every day as if Christ were truly King — because He is.

We don’t prepare for His coming by fear,
but by faithfulness: by prayer, by confession, by acts of mercy,
by love that refuses to grow cold.

The world lives for the next purchase or the next distraction.
The Christian lives for the next encounter with Christ.

And that encounter happens here —
in every Eucharist, every time we receive the Word,
every moment of grace accepted instead of ignored.

When we kneel before the altar,
we’re not escaping the world — we’re training for eternity.
Because the same Jesus who will come on the clouds
comes now hidden under the form of bread and wine.

Every Mass is Advent fulfilled in miniature:
the Lord who was, who is, and who is to come — all present in one moment.

That’s why Catholics don’t predict the end of the world;
we prepare for it by holiness.
We don’t stockpile food — we stockpile grace.
We don’t panic — we persevere.

“Stay awake,” Jesus says,
“for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” (v.44)

Advent, then, is not sentimental; it’s revolutionary.
It’s the Church shaking us from comfort and calling us to conversion.
It’s not about waiting passively for Christmas; it’s about turning actively toward Christ.

Isaiah calls us up the mountain.
Paul calls us out of sleep.
Jesus calls us to be ready.

All three voices converge on one message:
now is the time.

The Kingdom isn’t a someday thing — it’s already unfolding.
Every confession is a floodgate closing against sin.
Every Mass is a step up the mountain.
Every act of charity is a light lit in the darkness.

So let’s not drift into Advent as if it were a shopping season.
Let’s live it as a spiritual campaign —
a call to arms against laziness, cynicism, and sin.

If you need a starting point, take St Paul’s advice literally:

“Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Romans 13:14)
Each morning, before the day begins,
say in prayer:
“Lord, today I put You on — Your patience, Your purity, Your peace.”
That’s Advent in action.

Advent begins not with nostalgia, but with urgency.
The Lord is near — nearer than we think.
And the question He asks isn’t “Are you afraid?” but “Are you awake?”

Isaiah saw a world walking toward light.
Paul saw night turning into day.
Jesus saw a people called to be ready.
And all three invite us to live differently because of that hope.

The world says, “There’s always tomorrow.”
Faith says, “The day is at hand.”
The world says, “Go back to sleep.”
Christ says, “Wake up — the King is coming.”

So this Advent, don’t just decorate your home; prepare your heart.
Don’t just light candles; light conscience.
Don’t just wait for Christmas; walk toward Christ.

Because the Lord who came once in Bethlehem
will come again in glory —
and He already comes now in the quiet of this altar.

“It is full time now for you to wake from sleep.
The night is far gone; the day is at hand.” (Romans 13:11–12)

So rise, O Church.
Put on the armour of light.
Walk in the mountain of the Lord.
And stay awake —
for your redemption is nearer now than ever before.