Monday of the 3rd Sunday of Advent

Today’s message is essentially about how God’s authority does not force us but invites us to be led.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear friends, Advent often begins with a question rather than an answer. Who will guide us when the way ahead is uncertain?

Our first reading from the Book of Numbers is set in an unlikely place. Balaam is not part of Israel. He is a hired prophet, paid to curse God’s people. Yet when he looks out over the tents of Israel, the Spirit of God comes upon him, and blessing pours from his mouth. God speaks through someone on the margins, someone compromised, someone unexpected. That alone tells us something important about how God works. God’s purposes are not trapped by our categories.

Then comes the striking image. A star shall come out of Jacob. Not a weapon. Not an army. Not a decree. A star. In the ancient world, a star meant a ruler, but it also meant guidance. A star does not shout. It shines. It does not coerce. It draws. This is how God’s authority often appears in Advent. Quiet. Patient. Persistent. Calling people to move, step by step, through the dark, one step at a time.

That longing to be guided shapes the prayer of today’s psalm where we hear, Lord, make me know your ways. Teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth. This is not the prayer of someone who has everything sorted out. It is the prayer of someone willing to learn. In the Bible, to know a way means to walk it, not just understand it. The psalm also asks God to remember mercy and to forget sin. It is a prayer of trust. Teach me again. Lead me again.

This prayer feels close to home. Many people in Zimbabwe know what it is to ask for guidance amid uncertainty. Families trying to plan with rising costs. Young people wondering if their studies will lead to work. Communities carrying the weight of broken systems and uneven opportunities. The psalm does not promise quick solutions. It promises that God walks with those who seek truth with humility.

The Gospel from Matthew brings us into the Temple, the centre of religious life. Jesus is challenged by the chief priests and elders. By what authority are you doing these things? They are not asking out of curiosity. They are defending their position. Authority, for them, means control, permission, and status.

Jesus answers in a very Jewish way, with a question. The baptism of John. Was it from heaven or from human origin? The question cuts close to the bone. John called people to repentance. John asked them to change. If the leaders say John was from heaven, they must admit they refused God’s call. If they say John was only human, they risk the anger of the people. So they choose safety. We do not know.

This is the real failure in the scene. Not hostility, but avoidance. Not disbelief, but refusal to be honest. They protect their position at the cost of truth. Authority, when clung to, becomes fragile. Authority, when received from God, brings freedom.

John and Jesus stand in the same stream. Both point beyond themselves. Both ask for a change of heart. Both prepare the way for God’s reign, which lifts the lowly and unsettles the comfortable. To accept John would have meant accepting Jesus. To accept Jesus would mean letting go of control.

Here Advent speaks directly to us. The question is not whether Jesus has authority. The question is whether we will let his authority shape our lives. In the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius invites us to place ourselves inside the Gospel scene. Imagine standing in the Temple. Hear the question being asked of you. By what authority do you live? What guides your choices? Fear of loss? Desire for approval? Habit and comfort? Or the quiet light of God’s call?

God often guides us through uncertainty rather than around it. Trust grows not from having all the answers, but from staying faithful to the light we have.

This Gospel also presses on our shared life. When injustice is explained away, when the poor are asked to wait while others prosper, when young people feel invisible, the Church is asked again. By what authority do you speak? Our answer cannot be clever. It must be lived. God’s authority always bends towards mercy, dignity, and care for those pushed aside.

Advent does not end with everything resolved. It ends with a star still shining and a path still open. God is near. God is guiding. God is patient.

As we go into this week, I invite you to pray with three simple questions:

• Where in my life am I avoiding an honest answer because it might ask me to change?
• Whose voice really guides my decisions, especially when they affect others who are more vulnerable than I am?
• What small step can I take this week to walk more faithfully in the way God is gently showing me?