SIGNS ARE important in our lives.
When we travel along unfamiliar roads, we look for signs— where to turn, where to stop, where to go on.
But signs are not needed only on the road. We need them even more in life—especially when we are confused, when we are afraid, when we feel as though we have lost our sense of direction.
This is exactly the situation of the two main figures in today’s readings: King Ahaz in the first reading and Saint Joseph in the Gospel. (Because this is a Sunday Mass of Advent, the readings are repeated—we heard Ahaz’s story two days ago, and Joseph’s story just yesterday.)
Both find themselves in moments of deep confusion.
Let us begin with King Ahaz.
He was not an ordinary citizen. He was a king, the leader of a nation—yet one who struggled to make good decisions. A national crisis confronted him, and the resolution of that crisis depended on his leadership. His throne was under threat. His future was at stake. And so, the Lord sent the prophet Isaiah to guide him.
God said to him: “Ask for a sign—whether as deep as Sheol or as high as the heavens.”
Ahaz did not even ask. God himself offered. But what was Ahaz’s response?
“I will not ask. I will not put the Lord to the test.”
It sounds polite, even pious, doesn’t it? But in truth, it was only an excuse—born of fear and hopelessness. Deep inside, Ahaz had already made up his mind: he would surrender to the Assyrian Empire, submit to it simply in order to survive. He had already surrendered his trust in God.
And when a person has already given up inwardly, even if God offers a sign, he no longer wants to look.
This theme feels very timely for us today. Many Filipinos now seem weary, disheartened, and losing hope. We hear people say:
“Nothing will ever change.”
“This is just how we are.”
We understand where this heaviness comes from.
But Isaiah’s message is clear: When we allow hopelessness to consume us, we will no longer see the light that God offers.
Let us turn now to Joseph’s story. Joseph’s problem was not national—it was personal. It concerned his relationship with the woman he was already betrothed to. He discovered that she was pregnant before they lived together. Though he had the right to be angry, he did not want to expose Mary to shame. So, he decided to dissolve their marriage quietly, to protect her from harm.
Take note: Joseph had already made a decision too. But there is a crucial difference between him and Ahaz. Joseph did not immediately act on his decision. He slept on it.
A simple detail—but an important one. He paused. He became still. He did not close his heart.
And there, in the midst of his sleep, an angel came as a sign to guide him—making him understand that this was God’s plan, and that God was asking for his cooperation to bring it to fulfillment.
Joseph did not slam the door shut or allow resentment to rule him. He left a small opening in the silence—and that opening became the way God entered.
This is a powerful lesson for us:
Sometimes the wisest decision, especially when we are confused, is not to decide yet. To wait. To be silent. To make room for God.
As a nation that also seems to be in crisis, it is worth asking: “Does God still give signs today?”
Not long ago, many of us witnessed a powerful symbol: a rainbow appearing over EDSA, at the height of our gathering there calling for transparency and accountability.
Rainbows appear when dark clouds meet light. And perhaps this is what God wishes to tell us as well: behind the dark clouds, there stands a radiant and unshakable light. That happened on the First Sunday of Advent. A sign that God has not forgotten his covenant with his people.
But a covenant cannot be fulfilled by only one side.
God is faithful—but he also calls us to be faithful. He does not forget. He does not abandon his people.
In the end, all of this points to the greatest Sign of all— the Child to be born of Mary, the Child whom Joseph accepts as his own by giving him a name. And that name is Jesus.
By giving the Child his name, Joseph welcomed him into his home, into his life, and—more than that—into human history itself.
This Child is God’s strongest answer to human fear. That is why he is called Emmanuel, which means: GOD IS WITH US.
Not only in heaven. Not from a distance. But in the midst of our fear, our struggles, our confusion, and our wounds— as a people and as human beings.
Our hope rests in the Child who became the greatest Sign for humanity:
Jesus, Emmanuel—God with us.
(Homily for the Sixth Day of Simbang Gabi, Dec. 21, 2025, Isaiah 7:10–14 | Romans 1:1–7 | Matthew 1:18–24)
