Sermon for November 29, 2015: First Sunday of Advent
Rev. Amy Welin: Thanksgiving is past and now we begin the journey to Christmas. It feels a bit anti-climactic, doesn’t it, when the decorations have been up in all the stores for at least a month? The world is already busy with the business of getting ready for the retailing blitz. And in church, we take a moment to slow down, and to be quiet, to prepare for the coming of God among us.
We begin Advent with a bleak reminder that the world as we know it is going to come to an end. This is the way the world ends, according to the Bible: with wars, and conflict, and terror. Get ready.
Nothing like adding a little edge to the season of preparation, is there?
The first followers of Jesus waited for his return on the Day of the Lord. This was not a visit from Sweet Baby Jesus at the end of a month of festivity. This was coming of Christ with the sword of Judgment Day, who would separate the innocent from the guilty. They expected the world to end within their lifetimes – and the upheavals of the first century were considered the signs of the nearness of that day. Every cataclysm – war, persecution, or natural disaster – was a labor pain for the new creation being birthed by God.
As we observe the upheavals of the world today, it is not surprising to me that people in our own time anticipate that the end is near. Are we on the edge of an apocalyptic showdown? Will this new war be the last? When will the end come? I always have the same reply: we do not know the day or the hour. We cannot stop living, so we may as well live with faith.
This week, we light the candle that signifies hope on the Advent wreath.
Is this just a silly practice or can it remind us of a profound truth?
How can we live in hope when we feel as if we are seeing the end of the world?
Jesus tells his followers to stand up and to raise their heads as the rest of the world faints from fear. The powers of heaven and earth may be shaken, but the children of God know that the Day of the Lord is good news, for the time is near that the Reign of God will be completely fulfilled. So the stars will fall from the sky, and the powerful will fall from their thrones, and a new world will unfold as the Son of Man returns. The hope of the faithful is that we can watch for new life, which is just on the other side of disaster.
We can believe that this is entirely true, even if we struggle to believe that the descent of Christ on a cloud could be literally true.
Give to St. John’s ParishThe headlines provide ample material for speculation on how a global cataclysm might unfold. Yet even without the Apocalypse (with the capital A), it seems to me that we each have more than enough difficult experiences that bring an end to life as we have known it. Death. Illness. Loss of relationship. Heartbreak and disappointment. Each of these can be a portal to desolation and anxiety, which wreak havoc with our faith in a loving God, as well as with the hallmark holiday moments that the retailers are trying to sell us.
And we can choose to believe that the power of Christ always offers us new life beyond what has fallen apart. We can perceive that new life can emerge out of the rubble of our past experience.
The most powerful threat to our identity right now is not the possibility of violence, or the inevitability of loss and grief, but the possibility of living in constant fear. Fear is both the weapon of terrorists and the tool of the Evil One. Fear can lead us to forget who we really are, as Americans and as followers of Jesus.
When we are afraid, we forget to do all sorts of things. Like breathing. Like loving. Like giving thanks. Like thinking clearly. When we are afraid, we tend to look down at the ground, to make sure our footing is safe. Which is both good for the feet and limiting for our vision.
How can we find a way to live with less fear? We can pick up our heads and look for a familiar face: the face of Christ. This is a spiritual discipline that requires courage. Can we seek the presence of Christ in those around us?
If you want to see the glorified face of Christ, look into the eyes of the children around us, who are open and vulnerable. Look into the eyes of refugees, who are frightened and needy. Look into the eyes of the suffering and the homeless, who need someone to care about what happens to them. At one time or another in his life, Jesus was a child, a refugee, called himself homeless and suffered terribly. This is a spiritual discipline that requires persistence. Can we see and love the presence of Christ in those around us?
We know that the Gospel story will end well – we know that there is the power of God and there is resurrection and there will be new life.
We hope that the end of our own story will also end well, not because things are going so well, but because we trust that God is still with us. Hope requires courage and persistence. Hope is not the same as optimism, because it does not rely on the evidence at hand to predict the outcome. Hope is stubborn, tenacious, and faithful. Hope believes that there is the power of God and there is resurrection and there will be new life. Hope trusts that all shall be well, even if the details are a little murky.
Our world is packed full of the power of God. Stand up and raise up your heads, my friends, and watch for it. Our redemption is drawing near – just on the other side.