Brief Background:

St. Lucy was a Christian martyr from Syracuse, Sicily, who lived in the late 3rd to early 4th century and died around 304 AD during the persecution under Emperor Diocletian. Her name comes from the Latin lux, meaning “light.” From a young age, Lucy dedicated her life and virginity to Christ and distributed her wealth to the poor.

When she refused an arranged marriage and professed her faith openly, she was betrayed and arrested. According to tradition, Lucy endured great suffering but remained steadfast in her trust in God, becoming a powerful witness to faith, courage, and spiritual sight.

She is the patron Saint of the blind and those with eye troubles, and people with vision problems

Because her name means light and her feast day is December 13, near the darkest time of the year, the Church honors St. Lucy as a symbol of Christ’s light shining in darkness—a fitting witness during the season of Advent, when we wait for the true Light of the world.

REFLECTION:

I once waited at an airport to pick up a friend. I knew the flight number, the arrival time, even the gate. I stood there watching every passenger walk out, convinced I would recognize him immediately. People passed by—some familiar-looking, some not—but I stayed focused on what I expected him to look like.

After everyone had exited, I checked my phone, confused. Then I heard my name.

I turned around and there he was—standing only a few feet away. He had recognized me right away. I had missed him completely. He looked different than I imagined, dressed simply, blending into the crowd. I was waiting for the right person—but only in the way I expected him to appear.

That moment helps us understand the quiet sadness in Jesus’ words: “They did not recognize him.”

Jesus is speaking about John the Baptist—Elijah’s mission fulfilled. The people were waiting for God to act. They knew the Scriptures. They believed the promise. Yet when God’s messenger arrived, they missed him. Not because John failed, but because he did not match their expectations.

John came simply. Uncomfortably. Clearly. He lived in the desert. He spoke hard truths. He called people to repent. He came exactly as Scripture promised—but not as people imagined. So they did not recognize him.

Advent places us in that same posture of waiting. But Advent tells us who we are waiting for: Emmanuel—God with us. If God is with us, then Advent is not only about watching for someone who will come someday; it is also about learning to recognize who is already with us now.

This season invites us to pause and look again:

• Do we recognize our spouse—not just as someone who shares our space, but as a gift entrusted to us?
• Do we recognize our children—not just for what they do or don’t do, but for who they are becoming?
• Do we recognize our parents, our elders, our kupuna—not only in their limitations, but in their wisdom and love?

Advent calls us to recognize the people in our community, the needs around us, the quiet struggles in our homes, the relationships that need healing, attention, or forgiveness. God often comes to us through the people closest to us, and we miss Him not because He is absent, but because we are distracted or fixed on our expectations.

Like John the Baptist, God’s presence is rarely dramatic. It is steady. Ordinary. Persistent. It asks us to repent—not always from great sins, but from indifference, impatience, and blindness to the grace already in front of us.

Advent is not about doing more. It is about seeing more clearly.

As we wait for the celebration of Christ’s birth, the question is not whether God is coming. He has already come. He is with us.

The real Advent question is this: Will we recognize Emmanuel—God with us—in our homes, our families, our relationships, and our daily lives?