Advent as a threshold

Advent is not just a liturgical season. It is a threshold. A liminal space between darkness and light, between noise and silence, between the rushing world and the coming Kingdom. At this threshold, the Church invites us to pause, to look inward, to awaken.

Advent begins with a shout

“Be watchful!” the Gospel of Mark tells us (13:33). It is not a somber warning, but a luminous invitation. Advent is not just waiting: it is awakening. It is the moment when the Church, like a wise mother, gently stirs us to open our eyes of the soul. To what? To the light that is coming. To the presence of God, who is already on his way.

Isaiah cries out: “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!” (Isaiah 63:19). It is the cry of a people who have felt the absence, but who have not lost hope. Is it not also our cry today?

Isaiah’s cry: “Rend the heavens!”

Isaiah, prophet of the exile, cries out from the depths of a people who have lost their way:

“Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down!” (Isaiah 63:19)

It is the cry of one who knows that only God can restore what is broken. It is also our cry today, amidst wars, indifference, and spiritual weariness. But Isaiah does not dwell on the complaint. He recognizes that the people have fallen asleep, that they have forgotten the potter, that they have hardened their hearts. And so he asks:  Awaken us, Lord. Come.

Asleep in the everyday

Modern life lulls us to sleep. Routines, screens, worries… everything seems to conspire to make us live on autopilot. But Advent proposes the opposite: to live awake. To be attentive. Not like those who fear, but like those who love and hope.

Saint Augustine said, “Fear the passing of God, for He may pass by without you noticing.” Advent teaches us to notice. To perceive. To open the senses of our hearts.

To be spiritually asleep is to live without awareness of the sacred. It is to let routine obscure the presence of God. It is to lose the capacity for wonder, gratitude, and anticipation.

Jesus warns us: “You do not know when the owner of the house will come.” (Mark 13:35) But he doesn’t say this to frighten us, but to ignite our passion. So that we live each day as if it were the first… and the last.

The Light will soon arrive.

Advent is not passive waiting. It is active preparation. It is like the dawn that announces the day. And you, how are you preparing your heart?

May this first week be a gentle yet firm awakening. May the Light find you with open eyes, a willing heart, and a burning lamp.

Sleeping is not just closing your eyes

Three paths to awaken

1. Inner vigil

Be still. Turn off the external noise. Listen to your soul. What is God telling you at this moment of your life?

2. Prayerful reading of the Word

Don’t just read for the sake of reading. Let the Word read you. Let it enlighten you, challenge you, and comfort you. Let it be a lamp in your night.

3. Concrete gestures of light

Do something that ignites hope in another: a call, a visit, a prayer for someone who is suffering. Be a bearer of the light that is coming.

Advent is not passive waiting

It is active preparation. It is like preparing the house for a beloved guest. Likewise, it is like cleansing the heart so that the Christ Child may find a worthy manger.

Awaken, my soul. For the Light is coming. And it does not come to judge you, but to embrace you. It does not come to condemn you, but to ignite you.

Here is a patristic quote deeply linked to the spirit of Advent, taken from St. Ephrem the Syrian, one of the great poets and theologians of the 4th century:

“The Lord entered into the womb of Mary, and there He made Himself small in order to come to us and make us great.”
—  St. Ephrem the Syrian, Hymns on the Nativity

This phrase highlights the humility of the Incarnation and invites us to contemplate the mystery of a God who humbles himself to lift us up. It perfectly complements the theme “Awaken, for the Light is coming,” reminding us that spiritual vigilance is not merely waiting, but rather awe at the approaching divine tenderness.