The Advent of Now - Homily 2nd Sunday Advent - A

 

Readings 120725

 

Blessed be God. Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever. Amen. 

As always we pray: Come, Holy Spirit. Fill us with joy. Set our hearts ablaze with your presence.

I look at my grandchildren.
None of them bear my exact name.
There is no continuation of William Earl.
But I do have the gift of a couple who carry echoes of it—Liam Jack, Carson Earl.

All my grandchildren are beautiful gifts.
Yet as I hold them in my heart, I wonder…
What kind of future will they inherit?
Will it be a world shaped by Christ?
Or a world that has forgotten Him?

Into that wondering, Advent speaks.
This Second Sunday of Advent gives us a striking contrast.

On one hand, Isaiah lifts our eyes to a vision of peace:
A shoot rises from the stump of Jesse.
The Spirit of the Lord rests upon him.
The wolf dwells with the lamb.
The lion eats hay like the ox.
Justice and faithfulness clothe the Messiah.
And the earth is filled with the knowledge of the Lord….,

This is the world I pray my grandchildren will know.
It is the glorious future Advent we long for—
the fulfillment of all hope. 

But Advent not only points us to a distant harmony.
It confronts us with urgency in the present.

Enter John the Baptist.
No gentle visionary.
A wild man in the desert.
A “rock star” prophet who left the family business for locusts and leather.

His message is immediate.
His words abrasive.
His call demanding: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”

Isaiah’s vision lifts our eyes to the promise of a peaceful future.
John’s cry forces us to stop our spiritual procrastination.

We all exist for that future Advent—
that great day when Christ returns.
But we soothe ourselves with delay:
Tomorrow I’ll start praying the Rosary.
Next year I’ll study the catechism.
Before I die, I’ll go to confession more regularly.

John’s radical call obliterates that comfort zone.
The question is not: “Will I be ready when He comes?”
The real question is: “Am I ready now?”

John’s words remind us:
Christ comes precisely and only in the present moment.
When the Lord returns, He will not find us in our plans for next year.
He will find us exactly as we are—
wedged in the immediate now.

Look at the people standing on the banks of the Jordan.
Some stayed put.
“What sin?” they said. Or, “My sins are too great.” Or, “My sins are too small.”
But others—the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the simple—
heard God speak to their hearts.
And they walked into the water. 

Two thousand years later, the excuses remain.
“I don’t need to confess to a priest.”
“God will never forgive me.”

It is the same posture—
We are standing on the bank,
watching the water,
but refusing to enter. 

That same choice confronts us today.
And Saint Paul urges us:
Have hope. Cultivate endurance.
Find encouragement in the Scriptures.

Hope is not passive wishing.
Hope is the virtue that keeps us walking toward the water
even when our intellect argues us out of it.

Our heads talk us out of repentance.
Our hearts hear the call.
Our hearts are ready to listen.

Be prepared for when the Lord returns:
Be the one whose heart overrules the head.
Be the one who steps off the bank.

(pause, soften voice)

As Peter writes: “The Lord is patient with us, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).

He is coming.
And He will find us as we are.

The Lord will not meet us in our plans.
He will meet us in our present lives.

For my grandchildren—
and for all of us—
may we live holy and saintly lives now.
Preparing the way for the Lord.
Preaching the good news.
Not in a distant future,
but in the immediate, saving moment of today. 

Praise be to Jesus Christ, now and forever. Amen.