Homily for Advent 2A, 7 December 2025: Matthew 3:1-12

Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand (Mt 3:2).

Once again we hear the cry of St. John the Baptist, always valid, always relevant, always urgent. John calls us to prepare for the coming of the Lord: to know that the Lord is even now among us; to be certain that nothing whatever in our life is more important than knowing him, receiving him, listening to him, following him.

John speaks here of two baptisms. His own baptism was of repentance. In spite of his somewhat crazy appearance, many people became convinced that John was a true prophet from God. So they went down with him for full bodily immersion in the river Jordan. That was an outward sign. It demonstrated that they accepted John’s proclamation of the imminent coming of the Messiah. It was also a way of acknowledging publicly that in spite of every warning, and even every good intention, they were radically unprepared, and unworthy of him: sinners, in need of cleansing not just ritually but also morally and spiritually.

But then John spoke of the baptism to come: the baptism of Christ; baptism with the Holy Spirit and with fire. That baptism would not be a sign only. Through that baptism, people would be cleansed effectively of their sins; washed in Christ’s saving blood; given already a share in his life-giving resurrection from the dead. With that baptism would come an inner transformation in power; a conferring of the 7-fold gifts of the Spirit; the grace also of justification, sanctification, divinisation.

As we prepare for the liturgical celebration of Christmas, the season of Advent is given to help us focus our minds once more on these great truths. With the Old Testament Prophets, and especially with St. John the Baptist, we look ahead to Christ’s coming: liturgically, eschatologically, personally: in present reality; in grace and in glory. In Advent we renew our awareness that we always have more to do, in order to be ready to welcome Christ worthily when he comes. Concretely, we are strongly recommended to make a good sacramental confession before Christmas. Preparing that, we could consider, for example, where our behaviour is merely selfish; where our pride dictates our attitude to others; where we live forgetful of God; where instead of constant and joyful thanksgiving we allow ourselves to sink into soggy and miserable resentment; where the active love we owe both God and neighbour is dulled or compromised by sheer laziness. So we beg the Holy Spirit, ever more urgently, to come and take hold of our lives. I might just mention here that our present Jubilee year is running out: coming to an end at last at the Epiphany. Just now though we still have this special grace offered for a complete renewal of our lives in Christ, if we care to make use of it.

The Baptist’s words in today’s Gospel are extremely powerful. As well as holding out such thrilling promises, he thunders denunciations and threats, urging people to “flee from the wrath to come” (3:7). How odd, then, that the chosen place of his prophecy was the wilderness, where no one lives and almost no one goes. How odd of God to choose such fragile means by which to communicate an urgent message to the whole human race! But then how odd of God to go further, making himself vulnerable in Christ’s humanity; manifesting himself in humility; offering unimaginably full salvation, but always without compulsion; revealing not so much his transcendent purity and holiness and power, but his love, both divine and human, located above all for us in the Heart of Jesus.

Yesterday we were confronted by a striking manifestation of how God typically works through fragile means; how his victories can seem to the world like defeats; how faith and hope are needed to make sense of what can often to worldly eyes seem merely senseless.

Br. John Aidan Cook, who was buried here yesterday, was just 38 when he died, after enduring the slow torture of a body riddled with aggressively spreading cancer. But he knew where he was going, and he went there strong in both faith and hope; without fear; without sadness or anger; deeply grateful for the love and support of his family and friends, for the wonderful medical care he received, and for the sacramental and pastoral ministrations of the Church.

The Kingdom of heaven is at hand, cried John the Baptist; and John Aidan bore a most moving and beautiful witness to that. For him the Kingdom was indeed close – both in the sense of coming very soon, and in the sense of already possessed, pressing in, internalised; sheer gift, gratefully received; relativising everything. Br. John spoke of the thinness of the barrier, or the veil, separating us from heaven. We know this veil is not only thin, but also full of holes, and tears: because sometimes, maybe often, heaven reaches through to touch us directly; and sometimes we reach through to touch heaven. And what is heaven but God’s presence? What is heaven but the Holy Trinity? What is it but an eternity of joyful praise? Heaven: the perfect possession of all bliss and every possible fulfilment, without any c; forever sharing Christ’s divine Sonship; being filled with the gift of the Holy Spirit; receiving all that God the Father wishes to give!

Tomorrow is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Alone among the human race, our Blessed Lady had no need to repent. No sin whatever stood in the way of her perfect possession of the Kingdom. So of course there could be no better preparation for Christ’s coming than with Mary, and through Mary. As she first gave Jesus to the world, so does she remain ever active and powerful in mediating his presence to us.

These days we think of Mary’s maturing pregnancy; of her silent and loving adoration; of her self-abandonment in total trust; of her ever increasing union with God, who was also her son. So may she now teach us how to receive, with open hands and open hearts: how to cooperate with grace freely given; how to return love for love. And during this Advent preparation for Christmas, may Our Lady teach us especially the way of silence: silent interior recollection, silent adoration, silent joy, rooted in perfect humility, and expressing itself in constant and ever joyful praise.