
First Sunday of Advent (A), November 30, 2025

The Hour to Wake from Sleep
Isa 2,1-5; Psalm: 121; Rom 13,11-14a; Mt 24:37-44
Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ, on this First Sunday of Advent, the Church does not begin with a gentle whisper, but with an urgent trumpet blast. The purple vestments signal not only penance but also the hopeful, watchful waiting for a King. The Scriptures today shake us from spiritual slumber, presenting a stunning vision of our destiny, a sobering diagnosis of our present, and a clear path forward in vigilant hope.
The Prophet Isaiah lifts our eyes to the horizon of God’s plan. He reveals the mountain of the Lord’s house, established as the highest peak, drawing all nations to itself. This is a vision of cosmic peace, where humanity, united in worship of the one true God, beats its swords into plowshares and its spears into pruning hooks. Nation shall not raise the sword against nation, for the knowledge of the Lord will fill the earth. This is not a naïve dream; it is God’s definitive promise. The Church, the new Jerusalem, is the seed and beginning of this reality. Our Advent longing is for the full flowering of this peace, when Christ will be all in all.
But how do we, who live in a world still scarred by war and division, reach that holy mountain? Saint Paul provides the essential, urgent roadmap for the journey: “You know the time; it is the hour now for you to awake from sleep.” He insists that our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The darkness of sin and complacency is passing away; the dawn of Christ’s return is approaching. Therefore, we must “throw off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” This is a call to decisive action—to cast aside the petty rivalries, the indulgent pleasures, and the jealousies that belong to the night, and to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” This is the heart of Advent preparation: a conscious, daily clothing of ourselves in His grace through prayer, the sacraments, and acts of charity.
This theme of urgent readiness is dramatically illustrated by the Lord Himself in the Gospel of Matthew. He points to the days of Noah, when life proceeded with utter normalcy—eating, drinking, marrying—right up until the moment the flood came and swept them all away. The danger was not in these ordinary activities, but in the total absorption in them, a state of heart that was oblivious to the coming judgment. “Therefore, stay awake!” Jesus commands, “For you do not know on which day your Lord will come.” He uses the images of a thief in the night and two men in a field, one taken and one left. The point is not to incite fearful speculation, but to instill a constant state of spiritual readiness. Our entire life must be an Advent—a purposeful waiting for the Master’s return.
These readings call us to live in the “already, but not yet.” The peace of Isaiah’s mountain is already present in the heart of every believer in a state of grace, and in the Eucharist. Yet, we await its full realization. As Pope Benedict XVI taught, “The one who has hope lives differently.” We are called to live this “different life” now, the life of the day, while the world often slumbers in the night.
The comfort for us is that our God is both the goal and the guide. He is the glorious King on the holy mountain, and He is the “armor of light” we are to put on. The challenge is to examine our lives. What are the “works of darkness” I need to cast aside this Advent? In what areas has my heart become drowsy with the cares of daily life, forgetting that my ultimate citizenship is in heaven?
Let this Advent be a time of intentional waking. Let us make a good Confession, throw off the darkness, and put on Christ through more faithful prayer and more generous love. As St. Augustine prayed after his own conversion, “Too late have I loved you!” Let us not delay.
May the Lord grant us the grace to stay awake, to walk in the light of His coming, and so to hasten the dawn of that eternal day when He will be our everlasting peace. Amen.
May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.



