Isaiah 2:1-5 / Romans 13:11-14a / Matthew 24:37-44
Synopsis of the Readings
The readings of this First Sunday of Advent revolve around hopeful and vigilant waiting for the Lord. Isaiah presents a vision of universal peace, where nations stream towards God’s Mountain to learn his ways and live in justice. Saint Paul urges believers to awaken from spiritual sleep and put on the armour of light, for salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The Gospel of Matthew calls for constant readiness, for the coming of the Son of Man will be sudden and unexpected. Together, these readings show that Advent is not passive waiting but active preparation—hopeful, alert, and faithful anticipation of Christ’s coming in glory.
My dear people of God, we begin our Advent pilgrimage with a magnificent vision from the prophet Isaiah. He foresees a time when the mountain of the Lord’s house—Zion—will be raised above all other mountains, and all nations will stream towards it to be taught God’s ways. From this divine instruction will emerge true peace: swords will be beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks.
To understand this vision, we must appreciate its historical and cultural context. In Isaiah’s day, nations boasted that their own temples were the centre of the world, the meeting point of heaven and earth. Israel adopted this image not to claim political dominance but to make a theological statement: that the God of Israel is the one true God whose dominion embraces all creation, and that his instruction flows from Zion to the ends of the earth. This oracle of hope appears within chapters of judgment, where Jerusalem is condemned for corruption and rebellion. God must first act as a refining fire to purify Zion, turning his hand against its sin, so that it might become truly “the city of righteousness.” Thus, purification precedes peace.
This prophecy remains unfulfilled in human history, for nations still train for war and injustice persists. Yet Isaiah’s message is one of defiant hope: God’s peace will ultimately triumph. The early Fathers interpreted this mountain as a prophecy of Christ and his Church. Saint Augustine wrote that the Lord’s house is “built upon the summit of the mountains,” meaning it stands upon the holiness of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone (Exposition on Psalm 95). The nations streaming to the mountain prefigure the Church’s universal mission, which gathers all peoples into the light of Christ.
Advent is a time of ascent towards this mountain—our spiritual pilgrimage towards the Lord. We journey upward by repentance, faith, and love. Pope Francis, reflecting on this text, calls Christians to be “artisans of peace” who transform conflict into fraternity (Angelus, 1 Dec 2019).
A striking modern example comes from Birmingham in the United Kingdom. In 2012, artists gathered thousands of surrendered knives from city streets and melted them down to form garden tools and sculptures in a project called Save a Life, Surrender Your Knife. Instruments of violence became instruments of life. This powerful act echoes Isaiah’s vision and reminds us that the peace of God begins with transformation—of hearts, communities, and even the very materials once used for harm.
So, dearly beloved, Advent calls us to let God transform our weapons of bitterness, pride, or anger into the tools of reconciliation and service. The mountain of the Lord is not far away—it rises wherever hearts open to God’s light.
My brothers and sisters in Christ, Saint Paul in Romans bridges Isaiah’s promise and Matthew’s warning with a message of practical urgency: “It is now the hour for you to wake from sleep.” He contrasts night and day, darkness and light, sleep and wakefulness. The “sleep” here is not physical but spiritual complacency—a condition of moral drowsiness in which we drift through life absorbed in worldly affairs, oblivious to the nearness of God’s kingdom.
Paul’s appeal is rooted in his understanding of time. He uses kairos—a decisive, grace-filled moment—rather than chronos, the mere passage of hours. Advent is such a kairos, a sacred opportunity to awaken and reorder our lives. He commands us to “cast off the works of darkness” and “put on the armour of light.” These are not vague moral categories; Paul specifies them—drunkenness, promiscuity, jealousy, and rivalry—sins that fracture community and thrive in darkness.
To “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” is to be clothed with his very person, to allow his Spirit to shape our thoughts and actions. Saint Augustine’s conversion was sparked by this verse. Troubled by weakness, he heard a child’s voice saying, “Take and read.” Opening Scripture, he found these words and felt the grace to embrace chastity and faith (Confessions, VIII, 12).Patristic tradition deepens this image. Saint John Chrysostom describes the Christian life as “standing on the battlefield at dawn, ready to fight the darkness with the light of Christ” (Homily on Romans, 13). Pope Benedict XVI similarly writes that to awaken spiritually is to let eternity’s dawn illuminate our daily choices (Spe Salvi, §31).
Modern life offers vivid parallels. In Ghana, a young entrepreneur once refused a lucrative business partnership after discovering that it involved bribery. He lost profit but gained peace—a contemporary image of casting off darkness. In Canada, a university chaplain began inviting students to leave their phones at the chapel door, practising spiritual alertness in a distracted age. Such acts remind us that awakening is not dramatic but deliberate: every small choice for truth, purity, and justice is a step into the light. Advent is not merely about waiting for a date, but about living each day in spiritual wakefulness as preparation for eternity.
Dearly beloved, the Gospel of Matthew presents a solemn and urgent call to vigilance. Jesus likens the coming of the Son of Man to the days of Noah: people were eating, drinking, marrying, and living ordinary lives when the flood came and swept them away. Their error was not in ordinary living but in being so absorbed in routine that they ignored God’s warnings. They lived horizontally—with no upward gaze towardsGod.
Jesus then uses two ordinary scenes familiar to his listeners: two men working in the field and two women grinding grain. One is taken, the other left. The imagery reveals that God’s judgment will occur amid everyday activities, not in extraordinary circumstances. The verbs “stay awake” and “be ready” imply continuous alertness, not nervous anxiety. In the language of the time, to “keep watch” was the duty of a gatekeeper awaiting his master’s return. This Gospel reminds us that the coming of Christ happens daily—in the poor we serve, the truth we defend, the forgiveness we offer. Advent waiting is thus active discipleship.
Saint Basil the Great wrote: “If you truly expect the One who is coming, you will make firm your heart and your deeds” (Letter 72). The Fathers understood vigilance not as fear but as love’s attentiveness. Pope Benedict XVI explained that the Christian life is “every-day transcendence towards the Last Day”—a readiness that shapes our ethics and decisions (Spe Salvi, §31).
A story from Australia during the 2019-2020 bushfires captures this vividly. When evacuation orders were issued, some residents ignored them, convinced they could manage on their own. Others, prepared and attentive, left promptly and survived. The sudden separation between the ready and the unready mirrors Jesus’ warning. Readiness is not panic but prudence—the daily discipline of living as though Christ might return at any moment.
In Ghana, a parish in Accra began an “Advent Watch Night” during which parishioners prayed hourly for families affected by conflict and injustice. Their act of vigil expressed hope and solidarity, echoing Jesus’ call to stand ready and alert.
So, my dear people of God, let us live each day in readiness—faithful in duty, prayerful in spirit, compassionate in heart. For the Lord may come in the silence of our daily work or at the threshold of eternity. The question is not when he will come, but whether he will find us prepared.
Lessons from the Readings
These readings teach that Advent is a journey of hope and conversion. Isaiah calls us to ascend God’s Mountain and become instruments of peace. Paul urges us to awaken from spiritual drowsiness and clothe ourselves with Christ. Matthew warns us to live in vigilant expectation, not distracted by worldly preoccupations. Together they remind us that the Christian life is lived between promise and fulfilment, hope and vigilance. As we begin a new liturgical year, let us renew our resolve to walk in the light of the Lord, to cast off the works of darkness, and to remain ready to meet Christ—whether he comes at dawn, at dusk, or in the quiet rhythm of our daily lives.
