Homily: 4th Sunday of Advent – Cycle A
A few years back, there was a video that had generated a lot of buzz on social media. It was a holiday video produced by WestJet Airlines that documented an incredible event that the company organized and executed. In two separate airports in Canada, the company set up a large box with a TV screen on one of its sides. It also had a machine where you could scan the boarding pass for your flight. When someone did, Santa Claus appeared live on the TV screen and interacted with them. Behind the scenes, airline workers pulled up information on the person standing there so Santa could seem like he knew who was there. Then he did what Santa always does and he asked the person or family (especially the kids) what they wanted for Christmas.
A hidden camera recorded the reactions of the people who interacted with Santa. Most were surprised when Santa knew their names and, when asked what they wanted for Christmas, most of them asked for something that they thought they would never get. Well, little did they know that the WestJet team was recording their answers and what they did next was simply amazing. While these passengers were on their flights (each to the opposite airport), a team of the airline’s employees went out and purchased all of the things that the passengers asked for, wrapped them up and prepared to deliver them when those passengers arrived at their destination. When the passengers disembarked and went to claim their luggage, they found that presents were delivered to them instead: all of the things that they had asked for from Santa. It’s really a beautiful moment as you see people completely caught off-guard by the joy of receiving such an unexpected and seemingly miraculous gift. This “WestJet Christmas Miracle” has been repeated in varying ways since then, but the end is still the same: people experiencing true joy by receiving a true gift: something that they could not reasonably expect to receive, but that they did receive, nonetheless. ///
In our first reading today, Ahaz, the King of Judah, is being invited to ask for a sign from God through which God would assure him of his protection against a foreign army that is threatening to conquer Judah. The prophet Isaiah has told Ahaz that the Lord has promised to preserve him as king as long as he surrenders to this invading force. Ahaz, however, would rather make an alliance with the powerful Egyptian army to the south in the hopes of protecting his kingdom. Knowing that God would produce whatever sign he asked for, thus forcing him to surrender to the invading army, Ahaz refuses to ask for one, claiming that he would rather not test the Lord. In reality, he was afraid of what he would have to do if he placed all his trust in the Lord and so he refused to do it. Instead of opening himself up to being surprised by a miracle from the Lord, Ahaz closed himself off to it.
We can sometimes be the same way. Three full weeks now into Advent and we’ve probably spent more time trying to remove any chance for a surprise from our holiday schedule than we have opened ourselves up to one. Christmas wish lists, party invitation rosters, and carefully tabulated shopping protocols leave very little room to be surprised by joy. For three weeks now the Liturgy has been inviting us to make space in our lives where God can surprise us with joy (and then to ask for it!), but we would rather stick to our own plans—our worldly securities—than to open ourselves to what God might ask of us if we place our trust in him. Like Ahaz, we’d rather not “test the Lord.”
Perhaps, if we examine our consciences, we may find that, in truth, we do not trust the Lord to respond. Or perhaps we’ll find that we are afraid, like Ahaz was, that the Lord will respond and that we will then be obligated to do something we’re afraid to do: to make a move in our lives that seems uncertain. Maybe it’s to take a new job, or to move to a new place, or to end a relationship, or simply to give up a vice that we’ve held onto for way too long.
In spite of Ahaz’s reluctance to trust in God and to ask for a sign, God decides to give one to him anyway. And, in spite of how we have re-interpreted the sign to apply it to the virginal conception of Jesus by Mary, the sign that Isaiah called for was meant to be a sign for Ahaz in his time. The miraculous birth from a virgin would be that sign and he would be named Emmanuel so as to be a reminder to Ahaz (and the whole house of David) that God was truly with them.
This Christmas and every Christmas God is making the same offer to us. Regardless of whether or not we are open to asking for it, the Liturgy draws us once again to a remembrance of the sign that God has offered us: a child, born of a virgin, who is God, and who has saved us from our sins. This child truly is Emmanuel, the enduring presence of God with us, who is the constant reminder that God has not and will not abandon us to our enemies. That we celebrate this miraculous truth as this Jubilee Year of Hope draws to a close reminds us that, whatever step God may be calling us to take, it is an action filled with a promise of hope: an invitation to expect God to act for our good, even if the action appears to lead us immediately into defeat. For this is true hope: a trustful expectation to receive what was promised, in spite of all signs pointing to the contrary. ///
King Ahaz, because he refused to place his trust in God and to open himself to be surprised by God’s generosity, died before he could ever see God’s promised sign become a reality. Rather, he aligned himself with the Egyptian forces and was overrun by the Assyrian army anyway. Our fate will be much the same unless we can open ourselves to be surprised by God’s generosity this Christmas. If we keep allowing ourselves to get caught up in our own plans and our own priorities instead of looking for God’s sign among us, then we, too, may die before we ever experience the joy of being surprised by God—a joy like those airline passengers experienced on that special day—the joy of seeing life itself born right here in our midst.
And so, my brothers and sisters, the question to us today is this: “What do you want for Christmas?” Go ahead. Make your request. “Let it be deep as the netherworld or high as the sky”, as the prophet Isaiah invited king Ahaz. Whatever it is, make your request in a spirit of Hope. When you do, I promise you will be surprised by what you get.
Given in Spanish at St. Joseph Parish: Rochester, IN – December 21st, 2025
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