Advent 1 C
Luke 21:25-36
Grace
to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
Well,
I finally did it: I put up my decorations and even my tree this weekend. I
resisted doing it over Thanksgiving weekend, even though everyone around me
seemed to be taking the Christmas plunge. But I just couldn’t do it – even
yesterday was really pushing it for me. For me, see, setting up for Christmas
is not about Thanksgiving, or even about December, but about when Advent
starts. I just have a really hard time setting out an Advent wreath before I
can light any candles on it!
But
once I do get out all my Advent and Christmas stuff… oh, how I love it. In
addition to things I’ve collected, I’ve also inherited many of my grandparents’
beautiful things from around the world, so my house is full of hand-carved
angels, delicate balsa wood stars, and candles, tons of candles! My living room
is transformed into a place of peace and calm and soft light and loveliness…
reminiscent of how that peaceful night in Bethlehem must have been….
I
have a confession. I don’t really think that’s how it was in Bethlehem that
night. That may be how we like to think of Christmas – our sweet little Lord
Jesus no crying he makes, cattle lowing, angels singing sweetly. And maybe you
were hoping to get a glimpse of that sweet sleeping babe of Bethlehem when you
came to church this morning. But our Gospel text for this first Sunday in
Advent will have none of that! Instead of peace and calm, we hear about distress
among nations, fainting from fear, the powers of heaven being shaken. Quite a
rude awakening!
Rude,
maybe, but also honest. Because even as we may get caught up in this season of
good cheer, there are plenty of other things going on in our lives that are not
cheerful. Even if your life is full of joy and delight right now, we also
cannot help but be painfully aware that at any moment, everything could change.
One misstep, one dreaded phone call, one angry word – and your life could be
changed forever. A text like our Gospel today reminds us of why we even need in
our lives the hope and joy that Jesus brings: we need an interruption to the
struggle we face, and in order to make itself known, that interruption better
be pretty dramatic!
Pastor
Emory Gillespie tells a story about her first Thanksgiving in a new parish. She
had been invited to preach at the ecumenical Thanksgiving service in town.
Wanting to look professional and impressive, she went to pick up a new pair of
black pumps in time for the service. Her 2-year-old son strapped in his car
seat, she was on her way… but instead of getting new shoes, she got in a car
wreck. She writes, “In November’s freezing rain, a semi-trailer stopped behind
us. Its headlights blasted into our car, showing me the broken glass and blood
among us. As the truck driver lifted us into his rig I remember thinking,
‘Something had better interrupt this scene, and it’d better be immediate, and
it’d better be big.’ Traffic wound its way around us. I worried for my son’s
life. Finally, we heard sirens. The discordant, high-pitched screeching came at
us like a symphony. Only in this and in a handful of other traumatic
circumstances in my life have I heard something akin to an Advent invasion as
it was intended to be – those sirens were Good News with capital letters.” (Christian
Century, Nov. 28, 2012)
And
that’s what Advent can be – is meant to
be – in our lives: a loud, even obnoxious interruption into whatever trauma or
fear we might be experiencing, that promises to bring us our salvation. This
reading from Luke reminds us of that, with all its drama and fear and
discomfort. It reminds us that life is like that sometimes – distress, and
fainting from fear and foreboding, and feeling the heavens shaken. But more
importantly, it reminds us that even in the midst of all of these things that
interrupt our lives and change them in an instant, we will find an even louder,
more powerful interruption: sirens, announcing the Good News of our salvation.
That
is why the central theme of this Advent season is one of hope. Hope is a pretty
incredible thing, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking
a lot about hope, lately. As I have been facing decisions about breast cancer
treatment options this fall, there have been a lot of statistics to take in. There’s
a 15% chance this will come back. There’s a 20% chance that will happen. If you
do this treatment, you cut your risk by
50%. One day it occurred to me that almost all of the statistics I have heard
have been framed negatively. “There’s a 20% chance that you’ll get cancer
again.” And suddenly it occurred to me: That means there is an 80% chance that
I won’t, that I will instead thrive and be healthy and cancer-free for the rest
of my life! Those are pretty hopeful
statistics, if you ask me. And they are a lot more hopeful if I cling to that
80%, instead of act out of fear of what could happen. I would much rather live in hope than react out of
fear.
And
this is the lesson of Advent: live in the hope of what is to come. No matter
how bad it looks, don't give up the faith. Hang in there, ‘cuz God is in
control. Fear happens; this is inevitable. Life is full of the unknown, the
frustrating, the scary, the devastating, and things can turn for the worst in
an instant. But in that, we have a hope we can cling to, an interruption that
is louder and more powerful than anything life can serve us, and that is the
hope that comes along with that babe in a manger. This is the salvation that
Jeremiah promises in our first lesson today. It is the salvation we experience
right now. And it is the salvation for which we still wait, as we await
Christ’s second coming. That is why we call Jesus the one who was and who is
and who is to come.
So
how do we open ourselves to the possibility of that hopeful interruption? Jesus gives us three ideas. First, he says,
“don’t let your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the
worries of life.” On Thanksgiving Eve this year, we talked about giving thanks
in the midst of worry, even giving thanks for the things that worry us, so that our hearts might be
opened to seeing God working in those things. As for dissipation and
drunkenness… well, think of that not only literally, but as representative of
all the distractions of this season. One of my goals this Advent is to find a
little bit of time each day that is just for me, quiet time for me to focus and
not feel rushed. Maybe that would be a good practice for you, too, these coming
weeks.
The
next thing Jesus urges us to do is to “be alert at all times.” Even as we
strive to find some time to ourselves for peace and focus, we never stop paying
attention. Remember that Christ is the one is and who was and who is to come – that means that Christ is
already among us! Several of my friends, through the month of November,
participated in a “30 days of thankfulness” exercise, and each day they posted
something on Facebook that they were thankful for. What if we did the same
thing in December – not necessarily on Facebook, but maybe in a journal – but
instead called it, “31 days of blessedness” or “31 days of hopefulness”? Christ
is already blessing us and bringing us hope, here and now; all we have to do is
notice Christ’s presence among us.
And
finally, Jesus tells us to pray. Pray for strength, for endurance, for patience
as we wait. This should be the first thing – for how can we do anything without
the power of prayer to fuel us? Maybe you can pray during that time you’ve set
apart for yourself. Maybe in your car between errands. Maybe you join us for
our midweek soup, Bible study, and worship, as an opportunity to step away from
the hustle and bustle and focus on God. Our prayer nook at St. Martin has a new
activity this month, which helps participants to pray through setting up a
nativity scene, thinking about each character who was present at that first
Christmas, and letting those characters’ lives help us reflect on our own.
Maybe you could pray through setting up your own nativity, or your tree, or
whatever other Advent and Christmas themed décor you have in your house.
We’re
still several weeks away from the Peace that is born in a stable, that angels
will sing and that brings shepherds and kings alike to their knees. During this
time, this Advent season, we are given a great gift: an opportunity to really
think about why that baby matters, about why we need that kind of hope in our
lives, about what situation in our lives needs a loud, saving, hopeful interruption.
Let
us pray. Lord of Hope, you are the one who is and who was and who is to
come. Help us to notice the blessings you bring, to be alert and ready for your
presence among us, to pray for strength as we wait, and to live in the hope
that is our Lord Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the
Holy Spirit. Amen.
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