Fourth Sunday of Advent (Year A)

 Fourth Sunday of Advent December 21, 2025

Isaiah 7:10-14; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

(Image courtesy: Google)

In New York City, on a cold day in December, a little boy, about 10-years-old, was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.  A lady approached the young boy and said, 'my, but you're in such deep thought staring in that window!'  'I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,’ was the boy's reply. The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.  She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel.  By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes.  She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, 'No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.'  As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked her. 'Are you God'? No, said the woman. I am only his child. The boy smiled and said. I knew it. You are some relation of his.

This story prepares our hearts beautifully for the Fourth Sunday of Advent. Because Advent is precisely about this truth: God comes to us through human hands, human hearts, and quiet obedience. God does not usually arrive with thunder and lightning. He comes wrapped in compassion, humility, and faithful love.

Today’s Gospel from Matthew places before us Joseph, a man who never speaks a single word in Scripture, yet whose actions speak volumes. Joseph stands at the threshold of Christmas, facing confusion, fear, and uncertainty. Mary, to whom he is betrothed, is found to be with child, and the child is not his. According to the law, Joseph has every right to expose her, to protect his honour, to walk away publicly. But Matthew tells us something extraordinary: “Joseph was a righteous man.” And his righteousness is not harsh or legalistic. It is merciful. He decides to divorce Mary quietly, to spare her shame.

This is the first Advent lesson of today: true righteousness is always compassionate.

Joseph is not trying to prove himself right. He is trying to do what is loving. In a world that often values power, image, and public approval, Joseph teaches us the holiness of gentleness. Like the woman in the story, he chooses kindness over self-interest.

Then comes the second movement of the Gospel. God intervenes, not with explanations, but with trust. In a dream, the angel says, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” And Joseph wakes up and does exactly as the angel commands. No arguments. No questions. No delay.

This is astonishing. Joseph is asked to accept a mystery he cannot fully understand, a future he cannot control, and a role that will never bring him recognition. He will raise a child who is not biologically his. He will live in the shadow of a mystery greater than himself. And yet, he consents.

This is the second Advent lesson: faith means trusting God when the road ahead is unclear.

Joseph’s obedience allows the prophecy to be fulfilled: “The virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel.” Emmanuel means “God is with us.” Not God above us. Not God far away. God with us.

And how is God with us? Not through palaces, but through a carpenter’s home. Not through armies, but through a child. Not through power, but through love.

This brings us back to the barefoot boy and the woman. That child experienced Emmanuel. God with us. God with him. Not because heaven opened, but because a woman allowed herself to be an instrument of God’s love. She did not claim to be God. She simply lived like a child of God.

This is the heart of today’s homily: we are called to be the way God comes to others.

As Christmas approaches, the danger is that we sentimentalise the season. We decorate cribs but forget the homeless. We sing carols about love but remain unmoved by suffering. Advent, especially this final week, challenges us to ask: Where is God asking me to be Emmanuel for someone else?

Perhaps it is in our families. Like Joseph, many carry silent struggles. Unspoken disappointments. Hidden fears. Faithful sacrifices that no one applauds. Joseph reminds us that holiness often happens quietly, in doing the right thing when no one is watching.

Perhaps it is in our communities. There are barefoot people all around us. They may not lack shoes, but they lack encouragement, belonging, forgiveness, or hope. A kind word, a patient listening ear, a humble act of service can become a moment of grace.

Perhaps it is within our own hearts. Some of us approach Christmas burdened with confusion, like Joseph before the dream. Advent assures us that God enters precisely there. God does not wait for perfect clarity. He asks for trust.

The woman in the story did not perform a miracle. She simply noticed. She stopped. She knelt. She touched. And in doing so, she revealed God. Joseph does the same. By saying yes to Mary, yes to the child, yes to God’s plan, he becomes a living shelter for Emmanuel.

As we celebrate this Fourth Sunday of Advent, the Church invites us to move from waiting to welcoming. Not just welcoming Christ into the crib, but welcoming him into our decisions, our relationships, and our daily choices.

In a few days, we will hear the angels sing, “Glory to God in the highest.” But today, Advent whispers something quieter: God is with you. And God wants to be with others through you. May we, like Joseph, be righteous with compassion. May we, like the woman in the story, become a gentle answer to someone else’s prayer. And when the world looks at us and asks, “Are you God?” may our lives quietly reply, “No. I am only His child.”

And may they smile and say, “I knew it. You are some relation of His.”

Happy Sunday