30 November 2025, Scourmont
First Sunday of Advent ‘A’
Is 2:1-5; Rom 13:11, 14a; Mt 24:37-44
Homily
The evangelist Matthew organizes his Gospel around several major discourses of Jesus. At the beginning of his book, in what we call the Sermon on the Mount, the heart of which is the Beatitudes, he brings together several of Jesus' teachings on prayer, almsgiving, fasting and many other fundamental themes. Then, at the end of the Gospel, when Jesus has already entered Jerusalem, driven the merchants from the Temple, and confronted the Pharisees violently, and when he knows that His end is near, Matthew reports one after another several of Jesus' discourses on the end of all human life, beginning with His own.
When this text was written in its present form, Nero's persecution had already taken place, and several Christians, including Peter and Paul, had fallen victim to the Antichrist. Jerusalem had been devastated and many Jews had been killed, and those who remained had been subjected to a new deportation. All these events forced Christians to consider more carefully than ever the meaning of history and to reread what the prophets had announced in texts such as the third Isaiah, which we heard as the first reading.
During the first centuries after Jesus' death, Christians were convinced that the Lord would return any day as Judge of the universe and bring history to an end. The first century in particular was experienced as a long period of Advent, that is, as a long period of waiting for the Lord's return. These Christians had little interest in creating ecclesial structures as they would later be created. They were convinced that the time in which they lived – real time, not symbolic time – was like a bow drawn towards the definitive fulfilment of history.
This is the first lesson to remember: Advent is not, in reality, a four-week period during which we read different texts from those read during the rest of the year. Advent is a virtue, an attitude that consists in interpreting everything that happens in our daily lives, looking beyond the end of our noses and trying to see everything that happens to us in the perspective of history and the goal towards which it is heading.
In the text we have just read, Jesus calls for an attitude of “vigilance” and “attention”. We must live with our eyes open and our hands outstretched. It is time to do as Noah did when he saw the flood coming and made preparations accordingly, despite the irony of his fellow citizens.
Vigilance, in the spirit of this Gospel text, is therefore not a passive expectation of the Lord's return in quiet prayer. It is solidarity with Jesus and participation in his suffering and death. It is also solidarity with all the unfortunate people with whom he chose to identify, especially those who, like him, are victims of violence.
In the context of the many armed conflicts that still disfigure humanity today, Isaiah's prophecy (1st reading) resounds as an enormous reproach but also as the foundation of our hope. ‘They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks,’ prophesied Isaiah, ‘nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.’ "
Why is it that the exact opposite of this prophecy is being fulfilled before our very eyes? Why? – No doubt because, collectively, we have not been vigilant. We have not been in solidarity with the dying Jesus. We have not been in solidarity with the poor. We have institutionalised the unjust relationships between different sectors of humanity. We have paid no attention to the complaints of the oppressed or the arrogance of the oppressors.
Isaiah's utopia is, as I have just said, the foundation of our hope. It is indeed the announcement of the coming of the Messiah. He has already come, he is present among us, and he is the master of history. However, he respects our freedom, allowing us to slumber while occasionally reproaching us for doing so: ‘So, you could not keep watch with me?’ But the final victory of his kingdom of peace, communion and harmony is assured.
The final victory depends on Him and Him alone. But the moment when this victory will be achieved depends on us, for it is through us that He has chosen to achieve it. Isaiah's prophecy, which is both a rebuke and a source of hope, is also a reminder of our responsibility and a call to vigilance. Let us fulfil it through works of love.
Being awake means not only not resting on our laurels, in carelessness, as in the time of Noah, but it also means watching with Jesus, accompanying Him on His journey to Jerusalem and to the cross. It means not leaving Him alone in the face of His death, the culmination of His struggle against the unjust structures of our society.
Armand Veilleux