Sunday, December 1, 2013

Sermon: God-with-us in the unexpected (Dec. 1, 2013)

Advent 1A
December 1, 2013
Matthew 24:36-44

            The holy Gospel according to Matthew. Glory to you, O Lord.

            Before I read the Gospel this morning, I want to encourage you as you listen to think about what emotions this text evokes. How does it make you feel? How do you think its original hearers felt hearing it?
            Jesus said:
36But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, 39and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. 41Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. 42Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. 44Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.
            The Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ.

            So? Tell me about your emotional response to these words from Jesus…
            For me, this text makes me feel anxious and uncomfortable. I think part of this is cultural: this is one of the texts used to support the theory of the Rapture, the belief that when Jesus comes back, those who are the “real” Christians will be taken up to heaven, sort of in the way this text describes, and those who fell short of a Christian life will be left. The theory has been around for a couple hundred years or so, and the concept was made popular to the general public by the Left Behind book series. But the theory is, frankly, made up: a scare tactic used by fundamentalist Christian groups that lacks biblical support and has done more harm than good in the world. Still, fear is very powerful, and so even though I know that the Rapture is a misconstrued interpretation of Scripture, when I read this I think, “Yikes, creepy.”
            But I believe the anxiety I feel is more than some lingering fear of the possibility of the Rapture, because that possibility is not something that occupies my mind on any sort of regular basis, yet this text still makes me feel uncomfortable. And I think the reason for that is that it draws on a fear and anxiety that I do feel on a regular basis, and that is the fear of the unexpected, or for that for which I am unprepared.
            Oh sure, sometimes the unexpected can be a lot of fun. Just ask Michael how much I love surprises! An unexpected proposal, an unexpected promotion, or even a trip on which you decide to fly by the seat of your pants and see what happens – these all provide a certain thrill. But those are all good unexpected things. The thrill does not transfer to bad news. No one gets a thrill out of waiting for word from the doctor, or a phone call where your loved one’s voice trembles like it has been crying.
            Anxiety about the unexpected has even spawned a whole industry – that is, after all, why we buy insurance. Maybe you have seen the commercial for the insurance company where it shows several accidents both small and large – a man squirting ketchup on his date, an A/C unit falling on a car below, a car door being blown away by passing traffic. The stuff that America’s Funniest Home Videos are made of, but none of it is very funny in the moment. The voiceover says, “Humans. We mean well, but we are imperfect creatures living in a beautifully imperfect world. Sometimes the little things get us, and other times, the not so little. It’s amazing we’ve made it this far. …  At [our insurance company], we get that it’s tough out there, and our job is to make it less tough.” It’s an effective angle for an insurance company, because we all know that unexpected bad things happen all the time, and it does bring us some sense of calm to know that if we pay up front now, we won’t be alone, and maybe those unexpected things won’t be quite as devastating. It’s the best we can do to feel prepared.


            But life insurance, while it financially supports those who are left, doesn’t bring back our loved one. Health insurance makes illness more affordable, but it doesn’t eliminate the need for painful and extensive treatment, nor the enduring frustration of long-term side effects. And car insurance doesn’t prevent black ice or hydroplaning or distracted driving, and their potentially devastating results. Insurance may lessen the pain and brokenness of life, but it sure doesn’t eliminate it.
            This coming Saturday will be the annual Women’s Advent Worship and Brunch at St. Martin. The theme this year for the service is, “What if Jesus was never born?” It’s a worthwhile question to ponder as we enter this holiday season. Sometimes as we find our way through these next weeks, it can feel like Jesus was never born, can’t it? We spend so much time preparing for Christmas, it seems, we forget to prepare also for Christ. And so December 25th comes and goes, and it doesn’t really matter whether or not a babe was born that day in Bethlehem who would become the savior of the world, just as long as everyone got what they wanted under the tree, and Christmas dinner didn’t get burned, and goodies were made and distributed, and the family didn’t fight too much.
            It is easy to get swept up in preparations, and all their fun and festivity, and then to breathe a sigh of relief when it is over, but in all that, to forget why we are even doing it. And so maybe it is good, on this first Sunday in Advent, that we do have a text like today’s uncomfortable, anxiety-evoking one to remind us why it matters that Jesus was born. Because Christmas trees and beautiful bows and cookies and reindeer games can be a lot of fun, but they don’t have much ability to help us through the difficult and unexpected turns in life. The insurance commercial is right, those things will happen, but insurance will not help our spirits to cope with it.
But the promise of Jesus does. The promise of God-with-us, of a light shining in the darkness does. No, it doesn’t eliminate pain or protect us from an uncertain future, but it does assure us that we will not face that uncertain future alone. Whatever life throws our way, we can be sure that Jesus, Emmanuel, will be by our side, granting us courage through our struggles, remaining with us even through death, and drawing us into new life.
But sometimes it is hard to recognize that in the midst of our struggles, isn’t it? And so perhaps the part of this text that causes the most anxiety of all is that last line, in which Jesus implores us to be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. I know that this is supposed to be a text about the second coming, and Jesus is talking about when the Son of Man will return. But do we not sometimes feel that way in our day-to-day challenges, like we don’t know when God will come, will make His presence known to us? Like we are waiting and waiting and God just doesn’t seem to make an appearance? It is a wonderful thing when we are faced with a crisis – either a physical crisis or an emotional one – and we can say with confidence all the way through the experience that we know and feel the presence of God, Emmanuel. But there are other times when that presence is harder to detect.
Hard to detect, maybe… but never absent. Because that promise that came to a stable in Bethlehem all those years ago, that promise of Emmanuel, God-with-us – it never goes away. Sometimes it is harder for us to see it, when we are overcome by sadness and blinded by tears. Sometimes it is harder for us to believe it, when the darkness presses in on us. But that is what this time we call Advent is all about: it is a time of watching, waiting, and hoping. We watch for God, seeking Christ in all things. We wait with patience, knowing that God promised to be present, and so God will make that presence known. And as we wait, we hope – lighting candles to fend off the darkness, lights that brighten the nights as they grow ever longer and darker, and remind us that we do not face the darkness alone. For this is the season we remember that the light of the world has come, and is leading us forth not in fear and anxiety, but in confidence, and courage, and hope.

Let us pray…  God of hope, there are so many things in life that we cannot expect, for which we are not prepared, in which we can so easily lose our way. Shine your light in our path as we wait and watch for your coming, so that we may know your presence always, and live in the hope of your promise. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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