Advent IV: A: Readings: Isaiah 7:10–14; Romans 1:1–7; Matthew 1:18–24
Brothers and sisters, as we come to this Fourth Sunday of Advent, the candles on our wreath burn brightly—one more than last week—and our excitement grows for the coming of Christmas. But the Church reminds us that Advent is not only about preparing decorations or gifts. It’s a time of deep longing, of waiting for the Lord to enter our world and our hearts. In these last days before Christmas, the liturgy gives us one simple and powerful word to hold onto: Emmanuel—God with us.
Our first reading takes us to Jerusalem in a time of political terror. King Ahaz sees enemies on every side, and his courage collapses. He looks for human solutions—a military alliance, perhaps, or a treaty with a powerful neighbor. Isaiah steps forward with a message from God: “Ask for a sign.” But Ahaz refuses, cloaking his fear in fake piety. “I will not tempt the Lord!” he says. The truth is he doesn’t want a divine sign; God’s power would upset his plans.
So Isaiah declares that God Himself will give a sign—whether Ahaz asks for it or not. “The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.” It’s a word for the ages. God will not leave His people in anxiety or exile. He will enter history, take on flesh, and dwell with us. That ancient promise is the heartbeat of Advent: even when human faith fails, divine faithfulness remains.
How many of us, like Ahaz, find ourselves pressed by fear? We sometimes seek our own alliances—security through possessions, status, or control. Yet Advent whispers a different assurance: You are not alone. Trust the One who comes to be with you.
The Fulfillment in Christ
St. Paul opens his Letter to the Romans by proclaiming what Isaiah could only promise: the gospel of God that was long foretold by the prophets has been fulfilled in Jesus Christ. The Son of God has taken on our human nature, not by our merit but by divine love.
Paul’s greeting also reminds us who we are: “called to belong to Jesus Christ … called to be holy.” That calling is at the core of the Advent journey. Holiness is not an achievement; it’s a response to the One who has come near. Because Emmanuel is with us, we can choose faithfulness over fear, compassion over control, generosity over grasping. God’s nearness transforms every ordinary moment—our work, our relationships, even our suffering—into potential meeting places with grace.
Joseph’s Quiet Faith
And then comes Joseph. Few figures in Scripture speak more eloquently by their silence. The Gospel tells us that Joseph was a “righteous man.” This doesn’t mean he was merely obedient to law; it means his heart was attuned to the will of God.
Joseph’s life falls apart when he learns that Mary, his betrothed, is with child. Imagine the hurt, the confusion, the sense of betrayal. Yet Joseph’s righteousness inclines him toward mercy. He plans to divorce her quietly to spare her shame.
At that moment of decision, God intervenes. In a dream, the angel tells him: “Do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.” The child is conceived by the Holy Spirit. He will save his people from their sins. And Joseph wakes up and obeys. No long argument, no hesitation. Joseph’s faith is not loud, but it is steadfast. He trusts that God’s strange plan is somehow better than his own understanding.
Joseph stands as a model for us when life doesn’t unfold the way we imagined. Faith often invites us to act not because we have all the answers, but because we trust the One who calls. Think how much poorer the history of salvation would be if Joseph had ignored that message in the night. The salvation of the world arrived not through dramatic triumph, but through the quiet “yes” of a humble carpenter who believed God meant what He said.
God With Us—Still
When Matthew quotes Isaiah’s ancient prophecy—“They shall name him Emmanuel”—he’s showing that the story has come full circle. The God who promised to be with us has indeed done so, not as an idea or a power, but as a person.
Christmas is not just a commemoration; it’s a continuation. Emmanuel is still here—in the brokenness of families, in the quiet strength of caregivers, in acts of forgiveness that heal old wounds. The same God who entered the world in Mary’s womb now seeks entrance into every human heart. Like Joseph, we are asked to welcome Him—even when His coming rearranges our plans. The humble faith that says yes to God—one small step at a time—becomes the doorway through which Christ is born again into our world.
As we prepare to celebrate His birth, we could ask ourselves: Where do I still need to invite Emmanuel in? Into my worries? My family? A relationship that needs healing? Into the noise of my schedule? Advent’s promise is that when we let Him in, He brings peace—not always the peace of perfect circumstances, but the peace of God’s presence.
Closing Reflection
As Christmas draws near, let us make space for silence, like Joseph, and for trust, like Mary. Let us dare to believe Isaiah’s sign, rejoice in Paul’s gospel, and respond with the obedience of faith.
In every joy and every struggle, the same truth endures: God is with us. He is Emmanuel in the manger, Emmanuel in the Eucharist, Emmanuel in the moments when we dare to love.
And that, dear friends, is the heart of Advent’s promise and Christmas’s gift: not a distant God, but a God who draws near; not a sign from heaven, but heaven come to dwell with us.
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