The armor of light

First Sunday of Advent, November 30, 2025: Isaiah 2:1-5; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44; Psalm 122

Our lectionary begins the new Christian year not with excitement and good wishes for the year to come, but warnings about the end of time.

Isaiah starts us off in a hopeful way: “In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains . . .they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” The reign of God will offer peace and prosperity.

Yet when we move from the Hebrew scriptures to the Christian texts, things seem a bit more ominous. Paul tells the Romans that “it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep“. “Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” So much for beating swords into plowshares: if we are no longer at war, why do we need armor, even if it is the armor of light? But clearly, the works of darkness are tempting, if we need armor to protect us from them.

Then we hear Jesus, telling his disciples that “about that day and hour no one knows“. And he likens the coming of the Son of Man to the flood: “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.” The moral is clear: Keep awake.

As I read Jesus’ warning that “the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour“, I started thinking about an essay I read this morning about the San Gabriel mountains just outside of Los Angeles. They are apparently the fastest growing mountains in the world, but that is in geological time. A seismologist noted that every 5000 years or so, the Sierra Madre fault moves, and the San Gabriels grow by 10 feet. How do you respond to that? Do you constantly worry about the Big One? Or do you live your life, making sure that your house can withstand an earthquake, but not changing your routines?

The early Christians expected the Son of Man to arrive imminently, thus Paul’s warning to the Romans. But we’ve waited 2000 years, and it it difficult to remain vigilant that long. God’s idea of soon and ours are clearly not aligned. Perhaps God’s time is closer to geological time. We take comfort in mocking those who identify a particular day and prepare for the end time, only for it not to arrive.

Those who are preparing for the Son of Man have missed the point, and but we have too. What if we lived as if we were in the “mountain of the Lord’s house” as described by Isaiah? Maybe it’s not that people will disappear, but that they will move into living in a new way. Maybe Paul’s armor of light is what we carry when we bring Jesus with us in all we do. Maybe instead of sitting and watching, we live out the gospel all the time; maybe that is the armor of light.

And yet. On January 7 this year, I sat in my apartment in Pasadena as the wind got increasingly wild. I lived most of my life on the east coast, and so I knew hurricanes, and I prepared as I would for a hurricane. I brought furniture inside, I found all the batteries and lanterns, and was generally as prepared as I could be. But I was afraid. Hurricanes are fearsome, and we were expecting winds of 100 miles an hour. My colleagues and I were texting, watching what we could. It was hard to concentrate on anything. Suddenly in the early evening we heard there was a fire up in Eaton Canyon. We watched on our phones as the fire spread. By the next morning, much of Altadena was gone, including St Mark’s Episcopal Church, along with its school.

One thing that saved lives was a local meteorologist, who saw the fire and because he understood both the Santa Ana winds and the conditions in Eaton Canyon and the surrounding woods, warned people to get out long before official evacuations started. He knew how to read the signs. He was prepared. And if you paid attention to him, you could save yourself, even if you could not stop the fire.

The lessons we learn as Californians are ones we can use as Christians. Make sure you are ready: fire resistant homes, earthquake resistant buildings, go bag at the ready. Then live your life. But pay attention. As Christians, we live as Jesus taught us to live, loving our neighbors, feeding the hungry, and helping the prisoners. We try to live as if we are in Isaiah’s mountain of the Lord’s house. That is the armor of light. Then we are indeed ready.