First Sunday of Advent

Come, let us walk in the light!
​Rev. Jennifer Masada - St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church - Kapa’au, Hawai'i
November 30, 2025 - First Sunday of Advent, Year A
Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44; Psalm 122

E pule kākou.
Ever-present God, open us to your hope. Wake us up and help us listen for the needs of the hour. Help us address those needs in small actions that spread like an invisible wave. Give us vision to see your future inside our hearts. And give us the wisdom of faith in your continual arrival here on earth. Amen.

This year, Advent begins with a deep longing as we read Isaiah’s dream of swords becoming plough blades and spears becoming pruning hooks. Warriors become peaceful farmers.

This is an improbable vision by the world’s standards, but it is a hope we hold at a soul level. Isaiah invites us to imagine a world where tools of harm become tools of nourishment. In this hopeful vision, the ways of war and division are transformed into ways of connection with the 'āina to nurture the soil and to nurture love.

Isaiah’s vision may feel distant and murky, but his words also include some very practical advice. Bringing his message home, Isaiah says, “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.” These words soothe and calm us, providing Advent hope. They invite us to remember that we don't have to wait for the light. We can choose it, trust it, and walk in it now. We can live as though this hopeful vision is already breaking into the world through us.

We recognize this vision in the small, ordinary moments of life — when we see small children solve an argument all by themselves. Or when kind words ease a bad day. Or when Kohala comes together to help victims of a house fire. When tears of gratitude flow from families who come to St. Augustine’s to receive food from Kohala Cares, Vibrant Hawai‘i, or our friends at Gospel of Salvation. These are glimpses of the light breaking in. We don’t have to wait for the light; it’s already coming.

As we lit the candle of hope for in our Advent wreath this morning, we saw the light of Advent ushering in the new church year. In this season, we enter a time of quiet and reflection, keeping both clock time and soul time as we wait with anticipation. 
As Paul says, something new is already stirring. It's time to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” he says. What does this mean, “put on the Lord Jesus Christ?” To me, this means “wearing” or “embodying” Christ as best we can, with the hope that wearing Christ becomes the garment of a new humanity, a flowing robe of light. How about that for a fashion statement? 

To put on the light of Christ means we must also put aside the shadowed weight we’ve been carrying. And many of us carry so much as we work multiple jobs, care for family, and watch as political chaos feeds fear and erodes basic human rights. We see dear friends crumble under the burden of health issues or the horror of losing a child. And we see horrible injustices heaped inequitably upon those who can least afford to carry it.

It’s no wonder we hide under a thick shell, develop a cynical or crusty attitude, and turn a blind eye. That makes it very hard to see Isaiah’s hopeful vision. It is difficult to shed hardened shells in order to put on the soft cloak of Christ’s loving light. 
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This week, Jesus offers a teaching that sounds like an apocalyptic warning but is actually an invitation to embrace hope. He tells us that no one knows when the Son of Man will come, so be ready NOW. Champion justice NOW by paying attention to what's happening in the world and acting on it in daily life. There’s no need for a crystal ball, just look for the needs of this hour. 

Jesus urges us to live each moment as though God has arrived in our midst. Advent calls us to the kind of wakefulness that helps us see that God is already here, flowing through our ordinary daily actions of kindness, inclusion, compassion, and love.
Naturally, we feel uneasy about the unpredictability of life. Fears about the future are part of being human, and, at various points in our planet’s history, uncertainty has reached a volatile boiling point. 

I think this is Jesus’ loving way of pointing out that living with the unknown is part of being alive, so why not embrace it by being ready? What does is mean to be ready? I appreciate what writer John Burgess says about readiness. “The readiness to which Jesus calls us is shaped not by fear of the future, but rather by gratitude for life in the kingdom that Christ already offers us.” 

I love this quote from Dag Hammarskjöld, secretary general of the United Nations in the 1950s. He wrote in his journal, “For all that has been—Thanks! To all that will be—Yes.” That is such a great example of “putting on Jesus,” a fully fashioned robe of Christ light! Feeling gratitude for all that has been means tilling the soil of our past to find the gifts and opportunities in everything, even the challenges and hardships. Practicing this kind of gratitude helps us approach the future with grace instead of fear. 

On this first Sunday in Advent, I wonder: what are the swords in our lives that God is inviting us to lay down? What are the ploughshares we are being asked to take up? Where are we being invited to move from fear to trust, from guardedness to generosity, from sleepwalking through life to living fully awake?

As we take time to ponder these questions, as we think about what God is calling us to, we can find great hope in knowing that none of this has to happen with 100% completeness or perfection. Just for today, we can notice the needs of the hour and look for small ways to help. Hour by hour and day by day, we begin to turn toward hope. Once we choose to walk in the light, we’ll see the light everywhere, even in the dark corners. With each small act of love, our defensive shells melt in the light, replaced by the flowing robe of Christ consciousness. 

Observing a holy Advent season entails more than just counting down to Christmas. It is the beginning of the turning, the process of new life emerging through Christ's coming birth. This is a season of inner reflection during which we are invited to embrace our kuleana: to become the peace Christ has gifted to us and to return it to the world. 

In the turning, we become awake and ready. We see that the light we long for is already rising within us, reshaping our minds, and guiding our steps. We begin our Advent journey with the same words Isaiah offered thousands of years ago: Come, let us walk in the light.
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