Year A – Advent – 1st Sunday
Matthew 24:37–44: “So stay awake, because you do not know the day when your Lord will come.”

With the first Sunday of Advent a new liturgical year or cycle begins: Year A, during which we meditate on the Gospel of Matthew. It is the New Year of our life of faith! Indeed, the liturgical year does not coincide with the civil calendar. It begins with the first Sunday of Advent and ends with the week of Christ the King. It is not a simple repetitive reprise of the mysteries of the Christian faith. The Mystery finds us in a different personal situation, and the life of the Church and of the world has also changed. We could speak of a spiral progression.

1. Advent: a threefold coming

Advent, from the Latin Adventus, means coming, the Coming of Christ. But when we speak of the coming of Christ, it is not only a matter of recalling his visit in the past, but of rekindling our hope in the promise of his return. Yet between past and future lies the reality of his manifestation in the present: Christ has come and will come again, but he COMES today, making his visit to Bethlehem present for us and anticipating his arrival at the end of time.

Saint Bernard says on this subject: “We know of a threefold coming of the Lord. In the first, he came in the weakness of the flesh; in the last, he will come in the majesty of glory. A hidden coming lies between the other two, which are visible. This middle coming is, so to speak, the road that leads from the first to the last: in the first, Christ was our redemption; in the last, he will appear as our life; in this one, he is our rest and our consolation.”

2. On the way, accompanied: the figures of Advent

Four figures will accompany us during this Advent season:
ISAIAH, whom we will find in the first reading of these Sundays. He is the prophet who, seven centuries before Christ, contemplates and announces the advent of the Messiah and invites us to MESSIANIC JOY. He therefore speaks to us using verbs in the future. This future, inaugurated with the advent of the Messiah, is, however, still unfolding.
In today’s first reading (Is 2:1–5), he already contemplates definitive peace: “They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into sickles; nation shall not lift sword against nation, they shall not learn war any more.” Jesus, however, as he took leave of his own, still spoke of wars: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom” (Mt 24:7). The situation has not changed since the time of Christ—indeed, quite the opposite. It is enough to look at the current global scene of wars and conflicts. Violence seems to be increasing. It is estimated that there are more than a billion small arms in the world, 85% of them in civilian hands!

JOHN THE BAPTIST, who—on the second and third Sundays—with fiery words calls us to CONVERSION in order to prepare for the coming of Christ: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is close at hand! … Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight!”

JOSEPH and MARY, who—on the fourth Sunday—invite us to WELCOME the Lord within the womb of our hearts, in obedience and in love.

3. Whom are we waiting for: the friend or the thief?

Jesus uses various images to speak of his return, but three are particularly significant: the BRIDEGROOM who comes in the night (Mt 25:1–13, the parable of the ten virgins); the MASTER of the house who arrives unexpectedly (Mt 24:43; Mt 25:14–30, the parable of the talents); and the THIEF who breaks in at night (Mt 24:43–44).

The Lord certainly wants to be awaited as the bridegroom or as a friend. Yet we cannot ignore that at times his arrival frightens us, as a master frightens a servant. Indeed, he is the Lord to whom we must render account. Nevertheless, he is not a master who tyrannises, but rather one who appreciates our service and prepares to make us sit at table and serve us himself (Lk 12:37).
But what about the intriguing image of the thief? Allow me to allude to a personal experience.

In 1998, while preaching a retreat in Lima (Peru), Jesus’ warning to the community of Sardis struck me in a particular way: “If you do not keep awake, I shall come to you like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I am coming to you” (Revelation 3:3). I sensed that such a visit would be particularly painful. From then on, and for years, this prayer accompanied me: “Lord, do not visit me as a thief! Visit me as a friend! And if by chance you find me distracted, knock on the door of my heart as a persistent friend—knock and knock until I am forced to open to you. But do not come to me as a thief!”
When, a few years later, my illness (ALS) was diagnosed, my spontaneous reaction was: “Lord, you truly are visiting me as a thief!” Yet I made a discovery: even the thief’s visit is grace! Every time the illness stole something from me, the Thief left behind something else far more precious; and thus, each of his visits, mysteriously, enriched me.
A piece of advice: make friends with the Thief, and every one of his visits will be a grace!

4. Noah’s Sunday

The season of Advent, which leads us to Christmas, unfolds over four Sundays, corresponding to the forty days of Lent in preparation for Easter. Each Sunday has its own character. The first could be called Noah’s Sunday, because Jesus reminds us of this figure in order to interpret the time of his return: “As it was in Noah’s day, so it will be when the Son of Man comes.” This Sunday invites us to AWARENESS and VIGILANCE as we await the return of the Lord.

The people of Noah’s time “suspected nothing until the flood came and swept them all away.” Saint Paul, in the second reading (Rom 13:11–14), urges us to be “aware of the time: it is now the moment to wake from sleep.” Being “aware of the moment” we are living is more urgent than ever. Consequently, Jesus tells us in the Gospel: “So stay awake, because you do not know what day your Lord is coming.”

We must acknowledge that we too live far too distracted. Distraction and superficiality are “the supreme vice of our age” (R. Panikkar). We risk living “without noticing anything” and thus being carried away by events, swept along by the daily grind, doing many things without giving them any meaning or direction.

The evocation of Noah and his ark on this first Sunday of Advent does not seem to me purely coincidental. In reality, the story of Noah and his ark speaks of us and of our times! Many and varied tsunamis threaten, today more than ever, the life of all and the life of our planet! Christ is the true Noah, the one who has built the Ark of the New Covenant, a communion of life between heaven and earth. Each person, however, is called to be a new Noah and to build an inner ark, within their own heart, to receive and protect life.

A proposal for this Advent: build an ark—your own, personal one—according to your vocation and abilities, to protect a specific dimension of life or the life of people you know who risk being overwhelmed by the stormy waves of life!

Fr. Manuel João Pereira Correia, mccj



Fr. Manuel João, comboni missionary
Sunday Reflection
from the womb of my whale, ALS
Our cross is the pulpit of the Word