My dear brothers and sisters in Christ: Happy New Year! It sounds strange to say that in November, doesn’t it? The world outside is counting...
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ: Happy New Year!
It sounds strange to say that in November, doesn’t it? The world outside is counting down the days to end the year, rushing to finish reports and buy gifts. But inside this church, the clock has reset. Today is the First Sunday of Advent. The Church’s New Year begins not with a party, but with a promise.
However, if we are honest, many of us arrive here this morning tired. We are exhausted by the routine of work, the demands of family, and the noise of the world. We come to Mass hoping for a little peace, a little comfort.
But the Word of God today does not offer us a pillow; it offers us a trumpet blast. The readings we just heard—from Isaiah, Paul, and Jesus—are not lullabies. They are emergency alerts. They are interconnected by a single, urgent message: Time is running out, and God is breaking in.
To help us carry this message home, I want to offer you three words that define a true Christian life. They all start with the letter W: WAKE, WALK, WATCH.
The first word is WAKE.
St. Paul shakes us by the shoulders in the second reading: "It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep."
What kind of sleep is he talking about? He isn't talking about physical rest. He is talking about "spiritual autopilot." It is possible to be wide awake, driving a car, working a job, even sitting in this pew, and yet be spiritually asleep. We sleepwalk through our faith when we come to Mass out of habit but leave our hearts in the parking lot. We sleepwalk when we see a neighbor in need and look the other way because it’s "inconvenient." We sleepwalk when we let days turn into weeks without a sincere conversation with God.
Paul warns us: "The night is advanced, the day is at hand." We cannot afford to be comatose Christians. To be awake means to feel the weight of our sins and the warmth of God’s grace. It means realizing that this life is not a rehearsal; it is the performance. Wake up to the reality of God’s presence in your life right now.
The second word is WALK.
In the first reading, Isaiah gives us a beautiful vision. He sees all nations streaming toward the Lord’s mountain. He says, "Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!"
Notice the verb. He doesn't say "Come, let us sit in the light." He says walk. Christianity is not a spectator sport. It is not a religion of the armchair. It is a religion of the road. It is a climb. Isaiah speaks of beating swords into plowshares. That takes effort. That is hard work. In our own lives, this means beating the "swords" of our pride, our grudges, and our petty arguments into "plowshares" of forgiveness and service.
Are you moving forward in your faith, or are you stagnant? Are you still struggling with the exact same sins you confessed ten years ago? To walk means to make progress. It means saying, "Lord, I am not where I want to be, but I refuse to stay where I was." In this parish, under the patronage of the Immaculate Heart, we look to Mary. She didn’t just sit and wait; she walked—all the way to Bethlehem, all the way to Calvary. We must follow her steps.
The third word is WATCH.
In the Gospel, Jesus gives a chilling warning. He speaks of the days of Noah. People were eating, drinking, marrying—doing normal, good things—and they were swept away because they were not paying attention. He says, "Stay awake! For you do not know on which day your Lord will come."
To watch does not mean we stop living our lives or stand on a roof looking at the sky. To watch means to live with intention. The great danger for us modern Christians is not that we are evil people. It is that we are distracted people. We are so busy looking at our screens, checking our notifications, and worrying about tomorrow, that we miss the Son of Man coming to us today.
He comes in the face of your spouse asking for patience. He comes in the voice of your child asking for time. He comes in the silence of the Eucharist. If we are not watching, we will miss Him. We will be like the people in Noah’s time—too busy living to notice the Lifegiver standing right in front of us.
My friends, look at the Advent wreath. One candle is lit. The light is small, but it is there. This week, do not let the rush of December steal your soul.
WAKE from the slumber of mediocrity. WALK away from your old sins and toward the mountain of God. WATCH for His presence in the ordinary moments.
The King is coming. Let Him find us ready.
Amen.
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