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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