NRSV LUKE 21:25-36
25“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26 People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28 Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
29 Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; 30 as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. 31 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.
32 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.
33 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
34“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, 35 like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 36 Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”
The word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
At least that’s what I say, and what you politely, and liturgically, say. But I wonder what your response really is this morning? I mean there you are, sitting in your pews, on this first Sunday with all of the greens up in the church, announcing that we are getting ready for Christmas – yes, I know, as you do, that we are in Advent, a time of preparation, a time of waiting. But come on; I know what you are really after. You are after Christmas just like everyone else is, just like I am, if I was completely honest.
So here we are in a world filled with “’Tis the Season to be Jolly,” with Christmas carols sung for a couple of weeks now, maybe a little bit of shopping under our belts, and what do we get in church on this first Sunday in Advent? A lot of fiery, almost angry words from Jesus about the apocalypse, images of the end times, when all of history will come crashing down. I know not everybody likes their birthday, Jesus, but did you have to be so hard on all of us?
Maybe there is a different kind of connection here. When we hear Jesus’ warnings to be on guard lest the day catch us like a trap, we may take it personally and look at our watches or the newspapers to know how many shopping days until Christmas. That might remind us with fear and trembling that we haven’t even started yet. The days are catching us like a trap, sure enough, with all of those Christmas expectations of getting the right gift, the perfect gift, or the vast volumes of gifts with which to satisfy our egos and please someone special.
Some of us may have already gotten a jump on this thanks to outfits like Amazon, but the pressure of these days is real. This is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but we know there is no small amount of pressure here. There are parties to plan for, homes to decorate, gifts to wrap (just perfectly, please).
And then there is all of that underlying, deep stuff that we don’t like to bring up, but which is there, whether we admit it or not. Things like the grief and depression for anyone who marks these days by remembering loved ones who are no longer here. This is a wonderful season. But that wonder can be a double edged sword. It can cut the cake or the ribbon, or it can cut into our souls.
So we try to keep the joy in Christmas for as long as we can, and part of that joy is found in the long standing traditions of putting up greens, having our Chrismon tree go up, and in our own homes setting up all of the beautiful Christmas decorations, tree and all. We do this because this is a special time of year, complete with special memories of Christmas past. It is a time we long for, yearn for, even as it does come with all kinds of memories that serve as mixed blessings.
But you all have been in the church long enough to know that we don’t just jump into Christmas. Not in the church anyway, and certainly not in a mainline, liturgically inclined church like ours. We have a season to get ready for Christmas. A season to sing different songs – even if the selection of same gets the pastor and/or the music director in no small amount of trouble. It’s Advent, and as I am sure you have been told many times, Advent means “coming.”
But what’s coming? Baby Jesus, of course. Silly, why ask that question? But is that all that is coming? Are we only looking backwards at the historical event of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth; the faithful event of God taking on flesh and dwelling among us in the world two thousand years ago? If the baby born then is the one who was God incarnate, whose life, death and resurrection impact our own lives, deaths and resurrections, then what is coming is more than a remembrance of an historical event. There is a time for that, like when folks dress up in Civil War era clothing for a re-enactment at one of our battlefields. But this “coming” is also looking ahead – looking into the future, to that time when the resurrected and exalted Christ will come again. It’s there, in all of our statements of faith. As we will say in the Nicene Creed in a little while, “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.”
So for this Sunday, like every other first Sunday in Advent, no matter which Gospel the lectionary takes us, we start off the new church year the same way: with the apocalypse, what will happen somewhere down the road. But “apocalypse” does not mean “end times” (that’s the Greek word eschaton). Apocalypse means “revealing.” This is Jesus revealing what is going to happen. His words had an impact on Luke and his audience, in that they were experiencing first-hand the fulfillment of Jesus’ words – the destruction of the temple, the desecration of all that was holy, in this case by the occupying Romans who had had enough of all those revolts. It was a time when it seemed to all Hebrews that the world was falling part. And for many of them, it was.
But it can also be said that Jesus’ words are strikingly contemporary. Doesn’t it seem in our own world that the earth is in distress, with the seas in turmoil from all the plastic that is floating and killing wildlife; from people fainting from fear and foreboding, either from political fights that divide families or wars that continue to plague the earth; from a time when the heavens themselves are shaking with one storm after another, hurricanes last month, snowstorms in the north this month and who knows what us for next month?
But as it always is with Jesus, the bad news is not the only news. It is just that Jesus, more than we do, is honest. He looks at reality as it is. And, as Richard Rohr has reminded us often, reality doesn’t care if you like it or not. This is the way it is, Jesus says, and he is talking about first century Jerusalem, twenty first century United States, and any other year down the road. Things will happen. There will be bad things. People will faint from fear. It will seem like our worlds are falling apart. But – and with Jesus there is always a ‘but’ in the bad news – lift up your heads. Look at reality and embrace it. Accept things the way they are. Raise up your heads because your redemption is near. With God’s grace, resurrection is always possible.
And then there is the clincher: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” There are many words for this first Sunday in Advent, but the main one this strange text gives us is not fear or foreboding. It is: Trust. Trust that Jesus’ words will not pass away. Trust that Jesus will not leave us alone in this mess. Trust that our redemption – our wholeness – our peace – our salvation is drawing near.
Because we can trust this Jesus, this one who is on his way to the cross – which was the reason he was born in the first place – we can hear his words with the urgency they contain: “Be on guard… Be alert at all times.” There was a bumper sticker years ago that said, “Jesus is coming … Look busy!” But it is not a case of looking busy. It is a case of being about the work that Christ has called on us to do. The work of lifting up the fallen. The work of giving a word of hope for those who live in despair. The work of taking time to listen and grieve with those who mourn. The work of extending ourselves out in service to others, even those we deem unworthy. The work of being the love of Jesus wherever we go. Be on guard.
Years ago during a children’s sermon I heard a beautiful example of this from a woman who was our organist and music director. She asked the children what season it was – Advent – and what that meant to them – getting ready for Christmas. She asked them what they did when someone special comes to their house – clean up their rooms, wash the linens, take care of things that have needed it for a long time. And then she shared with the children that Advent is a time for us to get our spiritual houses ready for Jesus. I’ve always thought that was such a great image. Advent is a time to be on guard, and we are on guard as we get our houses ready for Jesus. As we clean up the things that need to be put in order. As we let go of things that get in the way.
A touching story came my way last week about someone who visited a monastery out in Colorado. They wrote:
“I saw a monk working alone in the vegetable garden. I squatted down beside him and said, ‘Brother, what is your dream?’ He just looked straight at me. What a beautiful face he had.
“’I would like to become a monk,’ he answered.
“’But, brother, you are a monk, aren’t you?’
“’I’ve been here for 25 years, but I still carry a gun.’ He drew a revolver from the holster under his robe. It looked so strange, a monk carrying a gun.
“’And they won’t – are you saying they won’t let you become a monk until you give up your gun?’
“’No, it’s not that. Most of them don’t even know that I have it, but I know.’
“‘Well, then, why don’t you give it up?’
“’I guess I’ve had it so long. I’ve been hurt a lot, and I’ve hurt a lot of others. I don’t think I would be comfortable without this gun.’
“’But you seem pretty uncomfortable with it.’
“’Yes, pretty uncomfortable, but I have my dream.’
“’Why don’t you give me the gun?’ I whispered. I was beginning to tremble.
“He did, he gave it to me. His tears ran down to the ground and then he embraced me.”
What is it that we need to let go of this Advent? What gun, sort to speak, something potentially destructive do we have that we need to give up in order to welcome Jesus’ birth this year? What dangerous view of ourselves, of others, of the world do we need to walk away from so that we can get our spiritual houses in order?
Be on guard. Let things go. As we do that we come to this table, the ultimate in letting go and following God’s call. At this table we eat and drink together. We don’t have to dream about it. It’s given to us. We just take and eat and drink. And we also remember – remember God taking on human flesh and living among us. But we also remember the promise that Christ will come again.
So as we begin this season of preparation we come to this table together, and eat and drink and let go – and in doing all of that, we are following Jesus’ words: Be on guard. Amen.