Readings: 1 Corinthians 4:1–5 | Luke 3:1–6
As the Church draws near to the Nativity of Our Lord, the Fourth Sunday of Advent presents a final summons: “Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight His paths.” The voice of St. John the Baptist resounds once more in the Gospel, not merely as a memory of ancient prophecy but as a living command that pierces the heart of the Church today. This Sunday is traditionally marked with deep interior recollection, even a kind of joyful solemnity, as the faithful await the imminent coming of the Messiah, both liturgically and eschatologically.
“Let a man so account of us as of the ministers of Christ…”
— 1 Cor. 4:1
In the Epistle, St. Paul offers a poignant lesson on humility and fidelity. He exhorts the Corinthians to judge not the ministers of God according to human standards or before the appointed time. It is not the servant’s self-estimation that counts, nor even the estimation of others, but only the judgment of God. The Apostle writes, “He that judgeth me, is the Lord.”
St. John Chrysostom, commenting on this passage, warns against the sin of rash judgment and presumption, especially concerning the hidden inner life of others:
“Thou knowest not thyself; yet thou judgest others. But the Master alone sees all things clearly. Let us leave the scrutiny to Him.” (Hom. 12 on 1 Cor.)
This reminder is particularly apt in Advent, a time for silent interior preparation, rather than the clamor of criticism or distraction. As we await the Light of the World, we must first cast out the darkness within our own souls. In the quiet of self-examination and repentance, the crooked paths are made straight.
The Voice in the Wilderness
— Luke 3:1–6
St. Luke presents the entrance of John the Baptist with deliberate solemnity, situating him in a precise historical and political moment: “in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar…” The Evangelist thus reveals that salvation history unfolds not in myth, but in time—in real events and real places. The voice crying in the wilderness is not an abstraction, but a man sanctified in the womb, whose ascetic life and fearless preaching herald the advent of the Incarnate Word.
St. Gregory the Great writes:
“John is called a voice, because he precedes the Word. For what is the voice but the forerunner of the word? Thus John, as the voice, goes before the Word, and by his ministry prepares the hearts of men.” (Hom. in Evangelia, I, 20)
This Sunday, we hear that voice again, not echoing over the deserts of Judea, but resounding within the Church’s liturgy and the soul’s conscience. The cry is urgent and clear: Prepare the way of the Lord. It is a cry that calls for repentance—not mere sentiment, but a decisive turning away from sin.
St. Vincent Ferrer, the great missionary preacher and apocalyptic herald of the 14th century, frequently took up the message of St. John. In his Advent sermons, he implored the faithful to purify their lives before the coming of the Lord—not only in His birth, but in His return in judgment:
“Just as He once came in great humility, so He shall come again in power and majesty. But if we would be found among His sheep, not His goats, we must now prepare a clean dwelling for His coming, by confession, penance, and the works of mercy.” (Sermo de Adventu)
St. Vincent, like the Baptist, spoke with the urgency of one who knew the reality of judgment. His words, like Paul’s, remind us that “the Lord will bring to light the hidden things of darkness.” Nothing will remain concealed. What is whispered in the soul now will be shouted from the rooftops in eternity.
Preparing the Way
In both readings, we see the themes of judgment and preparation intertwined. Paul tells us not to judge prematurely; Christ alone will render true judgment. Luke, through the Baptist, commands us to make the way ready for that very Judge. Advent, then, is a time not only of hopeful waiting but also of trembling preparation.
The liturgy of Dominica IV Adventus invites us to silence the distractions of the world and enter into the quiet stillness of the cave of Bethlehem, where the King of Glory is about to be born in poverty. But only the pure of heart shall see God. The valleys of our pride must be filled in with humility, the mountains of our sins brought low by contrition, and the crookedness of our affections made straight by grace.
Let us heed, then, the voice crying in the wilderness.
Let us confess our sins with sincerity.
Let us receive the sacraments with devotion.
Let us wait with purified hearts for the coming of our Savior, both in mystery and in majesty.
As the words of the Prophet declare—and as the Gospel reminds us today:
“All flesh shall see the salvation of God.” (Luke 3:6)
May we be found among those who not only see—but believe, adore, and follow.
“Veni, Domine, et noli tardare!”
Come, Lord, and delay not!