Homily for the 1st Sunday of Advent, A

About a month ago, King Abdullah II of Jordan, and his wife, Queen Rania visited Pope Leo at the Vatican. During their photo-op, Rania brought up the Pope’s upcoming visit to Lebanon, and wondered whether it was safe for him to go there. Pope Leo responded, “Well, we’re going.”

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Transcript

a reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew. 

Jesus said to his disciples, As it was in the day of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. In those days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day that Noah entered the ark. They did not know until the flood came and carried them all away. so will it be also at the coming of the Son of Man. Two women will be grinding at the mill, one will be taken, and one will be left. Therefore stay awake, for you do not know on which day your Lord will come. 

Be sure of this. If the master of the house had known the hour at night when the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake, and not let his house be broken into. So too, you also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come. 

The Gospel of the Lord. 

On the second day of his visit to Turkey, Pope Leo went to the ancient site of the Council of Nicaea. Seventeen centuries ago, bishops from East and West gathered to write the first version of what would become the Nicene Creed. Pope Leo prayed alongside Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, the spiritual leader of the world's 300 million Orthodox Christians.

The Roman Emperor, Constantine, convened the council in 325, to establish unity among fragmented Christian communities. The profession of faith still recited today by Catholics, Orthodox Christians and most Protestants, stands as a rare moment of visible unity in a history of Christianity that is more often marked by fracture.

On Sunday, November 30, the Pope flies to Lebanon. About a month ago, King Abdullah II of Jordan and his wife, Queen Rania, visited Pope Leo at the Vatican. During their photo op, Rania brought up the Pope's upcoming visit to Lebanon and wondered whether it was safe for him to go there. Pope Leo responded, well, we're going. 

Rania makes a good point. Lebanon is still reeling from the 2020 explosion of 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate in Beirut that killed 218 people, injured 7,000 more, and caused $15 billion in damage. Meanwhile, Israel has targeted Hezbollah leaders in Lebanon with little concern for collateral damage. Just last Sunday, Israel's attack in Beirut's southern suburbs killed five people and wounded 25 others. This is just a few miles from where the Pope will be visiting. 

In today's Gospel, we hear similar calls to be alert. So will it be also at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be out on the field. One will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding at the mill, one will be taken, and one will be left. 

So how does one prepare for the unexpected? That's the point. We can't. Pope Leo is listening to a different voice. If we think that God's coming is something to be afraid of, then we'll guard against a break-in. But if we're already engaged in seeking and doing God's work, we can be sure that we'll be thrilled no matter when, how, where, or through whom God acts. Pope Leo has decided to go to Lebanon to stand in solidarity with Christians in the Middle East who are suffering, especially in Lebanon, Syria, Gaza, and the West Bank. 

We Christians measure time differently from the dominant culture in which we live. We begin our year in Advent when the days are getting darker, not lighter. We count sunset as the beginning of a new day. However things appear to our naked eyes, we trust that the seeds of light are planted in darkness where they sprout and grow. We know not how. 

The prophet Isaiah invites us to begin this sacred journey. Come, let us climb the Lord's mountain to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways. Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord. The Hebrew word for walk here is halak, not just motion, but a way of being. To walk in the light of the Lord is to practice God's dream for the world, one choice at a time. We walk toward peace by practicing it. Every time we choose compassion over contempt, we join God in reshaping the world. To walk in the light means aligning our desires, decisions, and daily rhythms with God's character. Walking in the light becomes a lifelong journey toward becoming more like Christ. The first Christians, after all, were called people of the way. 

Paul's words carry that same threshold feeling. The night is nearly over. Daylight is on the way. Paul is urging us to live as if dawn is already on the horizon, to let the coming light shape how we move through whatever darkness remains. During the day, it's hard to remember that all the stars in the sky are out there all the time, even when we are too blinded by the sun to see them. Advent begins in the dark, to remind us that God is already there, already moving toward us, already planting light in places we thought were barren. 

In the letter he published this week, marking the 1700th anniversary of the Nicene Creed, Pope Leo wrote, The Nicene Creed does not depict a distant, inaccessible, and immovable God who rests in himself. but a God who is close to us and accompanies us on our journey in the world, even in the darkest places on earth. Believing that God became human in Jesus means that we now encounter the Lord in our brothers and sisters in need, the Pope said. 

No one knows the day or the hour. Not the angels, not the sun, not us. Isn't this the reality we're already living? We don't know the hour. We never have. And yet, we keep waking up to life anyway. Maybe the point isn't predicting anything. Maybe the point is noticing God hidden in the ordinary here and now, even when the world feels unsteady.