Advent Sunday
READING: Matthew 24:36–44

Another Way of Seeing the End

Advent does not begin with soft lights or gentle carols. It begins with Jesus’ unsettling words about an unexpected arrival and the “end of the world.” Just as we prepare to travel towards Bethlehem, we find ourselves listening instead to warnings about Noah, sudden separations, and thieves in the night. It can feel jarring. Yet Jesus gives us these images not to frighten us, but to wake us. Advent, at its heart, is not about fear of the future but about attentiveness to God’s presence now.

The “End”- Or the Purpose?

When Jesus spoke of “the end,” early Christians assumed he meant the imminent conclusion of history. But Matthew’s Gospel was written decades later. The world had not ended. The Son of Man had not appeared in clouds. So the church began to understand that perhaps “end” did not mean destruction at all, but telos –  fulfilment, completion, God’s loving intention for creation finally brought into view.

Across Christian history, theologians have resisted the temptation to turn the “end times” into a timetable. St Augustine said that the book of Revelation  should not be read as a calendar but as a spiritual drama. Medieval frescoes of the Last Judgement were designed not as warning charts, but as invitations to self-examination and hope. Even the Reformers insisted that the final coming of Christ was meant to inspire courage, not speculation.

So the  real question is not when Christ comes, but how we live while we wait.

“Stay Awake”: A Liberating Call

Jesus says, “No one knows the day or the hour.” These words are meant to free us – to release us from the exhausting pressure to control outcomes, predict the future, or manage God. The warning is not about wickedness but about sleepwalking: becoming so absorbed in our routines that we no longer have room for anything new.

Advent begins here. It challenges us to ask whether our days have become so full, so frantic – especially in December –  that we no longer sense God’s gentle movements in amongst us. Many churches and clergy speak of December as their busiest time; many families feel the same. We can be so busy preparing for Christmas that we miss Christ.

Jesus’ image of two people at the grindstone shows how subtle this can be. Two people, side by side, doing the same task – yet only one is awake to God’s presence . The difference is not moral worthiness but availability . The thief in the night is not a threat but a metaphor: being aware of God’s love  often comes quietly, slipping past our defences, breaking open the locked places of our hearts.

The Transforming Power of Simply Being Present

This call to attentiveness can feel abstract – until we see it in ordinary stories.

Surprisingly, one of the most joyful illustrations comes from the Christmas film Elf. Walter Hobbs, Buddy the Elf’s father, is the perfect example of someone spiritually “asleep.” He is driven, distracted, and continually absorbed by work. He rushes through life, missing what matters most: the chance simply to be present with his family.

There’s a turning point near the end when Walter walks away from a crucial business meeting – something the old Walter would never have done. In that small act of stopping, of choosing presence over productivity, something shifts. He finally sees his son. He sees joy. He sees love. The world looks different because he is different. He has awakened to what was there all along.

The transformation is comic, yes, but deeply Advent-shaped. The “end” for Walter is not catastrophe, but the end of old habits and the beginning of a new kind of life.

A similar awakening lies  of another man called Walter – so at the heart of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Walter spends the first part of the story drifting through his days, detached, anxious, half-alive. But when he finally begins to pay attention – to the world, to other people, to his own desires –  the world blossoms. Snow falling on mountains, brief conversations with strangers, even small acts of courage become sacramental. Nothing about the world has changed; Walter has.

This is what Jesus means by “keep awake.” Not anxiety. Not fear. But presence. Slowing down enough for wonder to find us.

Apocalyptic as Revelation, Not Threat

This reframes the whole reading. If we hear “end of the world” and imagine disaster, we miss Jesus’ point. Apocalyptic language in Scripture is not about predicting events but about revealing truth. Jesus paints on a vast canvas so that we might recognise the small, real signs of God breaking into our ordinary days.

So, the  “end” Jesus speaks of is not annihilation but unveiling – God’s dream for creation shining through the cracks of the present moment.

Every time justice interrupts injustice, every time forgiveness disarms bitterness, every time compassion crosses divides, the future God intends touches our present. Advent trains us to notice these moments so we may participate in them.

Keeping Awake, Today

To “keep awake” is not to stay up late worrying. It is to live with openness, curiosity, and tenderness. It is:noticing beauty rather than rushing past it, choosing compassion instead of irritation, listening before reacting, creating space for silence where God can speak.

Mary kept awake when she said yes without knowing the whole story. Joseph kept awake when he trusted a dream more than fear. The shepherds stayed awake simply by being faithful in the night –  and that was enough. Wonder found them.

Keeping awake means refusing to shrink life down to what we already understand. It means believing God can come to us in unexpected places: in the person we struggle with, in the crisis that becomes an opening, in the moment of courage we didn’t know we had.

A Christ Who Comes to us  Again and Again

Jesus comes to us not only at the end of history but again and again in history. Christ comes whenever truth is spoken, whenever dignity is defended, whenever love becomes visible, whenever creation is cherished. The “unexpected hour” is every hour when God breaks through our hurry and brings us back to ourselves.

And yet there remains a future hope. God’s story ends not in destruction but in renewal. Nothing is lost; nothing is beyond redemption.

The Invitation of Advent

On this first Sunday of Advent, Jesus invites us not into fear but into wakefulness. Not into tightening our grip but loosening it. Not into prediction but presence.

The coming of Christ –  in Bethlehem, in our lives, and at the fulfilment of history –  is never meant to terrify. It is meant to awaken us to a world in which God is always approaching.

And sometimes that awakening begins as simply as this:by stopping long enough to see the sacredness of what is already here.

Photo Credit: Juan Jomenta (Envato.com)