***Bonus hymn at the end of the homily from the 10AM Mass***

In rural Vacaville, we are familiar with the cry of the rooster crows, as the stars have already blinked out of the sky and a new day is at hand and yet, we are always surprised by morning. So it shall be with the coming of the Son of Man. There is a great paradox in this age, a thing so blindingly obvious that only a modern man could miss it. We prepare for every uncertain thing—storms, exams, pensions, and the possibility of rain on a picnic—but we are scandalously unprepared for the one certain thing: that Christ shall come again in glory, and His kingdom shall have no end.

Now, if you tell a man on the street that Jesus might return this afternoon, he will smile in pity or smirk in cynicism. But tell him his phone battery might die before lunch, and he will run for a charger. We are a race that believes more fervently in the failure of lithium than in the triumph of the Lamb. And yet, the trumpet shall sound.

Our Lord warns in the Gospel this Sunday, “Watch therefore, for you do not know the day nor the hour.” He did not say this to make us nervous, like students awaiting an unannounced quiz. He said it because Heaven is not a theory—it is a wedding. And no one should be caught unwashed and half-dressed when the Bridegroom knocks. I tell you, the world is not a waiting room; it is a battleground, a vineyard, and a bridal chamber all at once. It is not that we have too little time to prepare, but too much noise to remember that time runs out. We are not meant to guess the hour. We are meant to be ready in every hour.

It is a curious thing that when the early Christians spoke of the Second Coming, they did not wring their hands, but lifted their heads. “Maranatha,” they cried—not with fear, but with fire. Come, Lord Jesus! The Church was not built by those who played at religion in peacetime, but by saints who stood watch in the dark, their lamps burning, like loyal soldiers awaiting the return of their general.

And what if He does not return today? Then we live today as if He might—for that is what it means to live in hope. Hope is not wishing upon stars; it is keeping your boots laced and your heart clean because you know the King will ride through the mist. Do not be lulled by the delay. The world will lull you with distractions, with duties, with deadlines, with dopamine. It will whisper, “He delays His coming.” But Christ’s return is not late. It is sudden. When He comes, the masquerade of modernity will be torn like a stage curtain, and the souls of men will be revealed—naked in shame or clothed in glory. Therefore, I say to you: keep your soul in a state of readiness. Not with anxiety, but with awe. Not with fear, but with fervor.

Feed the hungry. Forgive your enemies. Light your lamp. Love your Lord. For when the trumpet sounds, there will be no time to put oil in the lamp. And yet—oh, glorious paradox!—it is today that He knocks. In the beggar. In the Word. In the still small voice. The Second Coming may be closer than we think. Are you ready?