Orchard Ridge United Church of Christ

preached by Winton Boyd on Sunday, November 29, 2009

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. 26People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
29Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; 30as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. 31So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. 32Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. 33Heaven 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, 35like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 36Be 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.”

I have to confess, when I looked at this lectionary gospel text for this first Sunday of Advent, I decided to avoid it and chose a psalm instead. Each year in the lectionary cycle begins with a text like this apocalyptic one from Luke, which I find off putting. While I know and appreciate that Advent is really about the coming of God into our lives – FIRST in terms of the 2nd coming , and then also in the birth of a child – honestly, I have never been much for these end times texts.

How we hear a text is influenced by so many things, of course. We are fresh off the simple holiday of Thanksgiving; we are beginning to feel the weight of the dark winter ; we are feeling the creeping depression and seasonal affect disorder in ourselves or in many we know; and the need for lights in our collective darkness are needed more than ever. In that context, it can be hard to begin a season by being reminded of all the horrible things going on, being told that people will “faint from fear and foreboding” of what is to come. It’s hard to be reminded how much we need to “be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and worries of this life.”

I will say there was some comic relief in the realm of end times thinking from the magazine Sports Illustrated. Each issue has a small section title, “Sign of the Apocalypse” which shares a bizarre, mind bending fact that makes you think the world is coming to an end! A couple of weeks ago the “sign” was that New York City office workers who ran out of confetti during the Yankee’s World Series parade instead threw confidential financial documents, including pay stubbs and bank statements.” The sign of the apocalypse in the latest issue, which a brother from Philadelphia (an Eagles fan) was delighted to share to our whole extended family, was that “Al Queda detainees in Baghdad prisons are giving Wisconsin soldiers a hard time about Brett Favre going to the Vikings.”

Throughout history, this style of literature, here and elsewhere in the Bible, tended to flourish during difficult times. In the ancient near east, the heyday of apocalyptic was between 300 BCe and 100 CE. In 300 BCE, Israel was dealing with the “culture war” brought on by the spread of Greek culture in the wake of Alexander’s conquest. By 100 CE, a subsequent occupying army had destroyed the holy city of Jerusalem.

So, I know that the impulses which created this kind of literature are important. I know that the message is ultimately one of hope and faith. It is just that at the beginning of this week, trying to make sense of it, it wasn’t working for me.

However, I had a bit of a revelation around the thanksgiving table. We have a college aged niece who was given the assignment to talk about social justice and Christian responsibility with members of her extended family over the holiday weekend. This niece is smart enough to know that around our family table there are many different viewpoints on justice issues, so she waded into the question asking a bit cautiously. As the “adult table” 9 siblings and partners was finishing dessert around the table, she bean with her first question– “what are the basic human rights all people deserve?” – Immediately, differences of opinion surfaced. As we discussed and debated several issues – welfare, education, immigration, health care and spirituality – she sat back with a video camera, took notes, and listened.

Part of the reason my extended family has many opinions, of course, is that we come from different starting points in life. Backgrounds in well to do and welfare families, jobs in corporate work and nonprofit work, family supported and on our own financially from an early age, religious commitments that are evangelical, progressive, agnostic, Episcopalian…

But the revelation came because I knew in the back of my mind that I was trying to make sense of this text – this injunction that while bad things are happening, we stand in hope and grace because of God. We were asked by our niece if we had a responsibility to those in need, and if so, why? So, as we talked about immigrants, families without health care, people of different racial backgrounds, unemployed or underemployed – I kept wondering to myself – do I really believe this text is for all of us?

Do I really believe in the hope and power and grace of God enough to trust it will be sufficient not just for me, but for those whose lives are in far more difficult situations than mine? The question wasn’t about the need to convert others to Christianity, but rather the value and potential of Christian hope in a world of dire need, were they to want it.

There’s no doubt that if we open our eyes, if we open our hearts, the chaos described in Luke is all around us – we too see the pain and suffering and loss and destruction of the human experience. We know it firsthand, we know it in our loved ones, and we are also smart enough to know that others have it much worse that we do in the world. The real question – faced with this need – is then “do we also see, experience or believe in the hope lifted up by Luke in those around us now?” I wondered, in our gift giving, in our charity at this time of year, in our service to others – doing unto them as we would have it done unto us – do we really believe in the power of God promised in Luke? Do we really believe in redemption – for ourselves, for our family members who continue to mess up their lives, for people on the street, troublemakers in jail, families living on the edge of poverty and homelessness? Do we have any sense that the faith WE proclaim this Advent can affect change in the world? Are we just going through the motions or is this a living, active faith in our lives?

If this text means anything, if it is indeed gospel in any way, it’s not about Christmas lights twinkling the dark; it’s about much more than remembering the promise and hope of childhood, much deeper than cherishing family traditions.
If this Christmas message we begin to unfold and unroll again this year has any power, it actually transcends all that is good and all that is bad in our lives. It has to rest not in our power of positive thinking, not in our ability to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, or our willingness to make right with our lives.

Reading these texts in the context of our materially well off life is a reminder that for some- this Christmas season holds out the promise of God’s coming to lives where nothing else is going right. The “gift” that is promised, and that many latch onto – is the gift of life. It is not our good works, it is not our charity – it is a word of justice and hope that emanates not from some genteel Rotarian in the sky, but from the One whose life, teaching, death and resurrection  offers hope to the hopeless.

Advent can then be an chance to ponder the journey of hope and how it looks, how it is shaped, how it is sustained. We ponder the reality that the gospel is often most deeply held today in the hearts of people around the world who are suffering much more than we are. We can ask, what is that about? Can we who are materially comfortable let go of our own self-focused pride long enough to consider what it is that actually “works” about the Christian faith for others?

I don’t know the full answer, and I suspect hope gains traction in people in many different ways. One of them is through the witness and life of others, through the mysterious way we and others embody it with our passion for compassion and justice. I suspect love, for many, is incarnated in the very being and actions of others in their lives. I’m more and more certain that the faith we proclaim can only be caught by others when it points not to our great character, our charitable heart, our great wisdom – but when it points beyond us. Our lives are conduits for the work of the Spirit, and while we may or may not have a chance to share that hope with others, we are invited to ask the question – DO our lives embody the hope of the gospel? Does OUR joy witness not just our good natured personality – but a deep joy that reminds others light shines in the darkness.

In fact, it is a luxury to want to push the suffering out of our minds and heart so as to focus on the goodness of my relatively little world? Luke had a larger vision – a vision rooted in a long view of God’s coming into the world.
There is a sense, after all, in which we as Christians live the apocalypse on a daily basis. Amid the destruction and devastation that are ever taking place in the world, Christ beckons us to perceive and to participate in the ways that he is already seeking to bring redemption and healing for the whole of creation.

“Advent gives us the apocalypse each year not only so that we might recognize it, should it come, but also—and perhaps especially—that we might enter more mindfully into our present landscape and perceive the signs of how God is working out God’s longing in the world here and now.” (Jan Richardson)

The message of Advent is not lightweight and fluffy, but it is also not depressing. Rereading, and rehearing the words of the gospel writer seeking to point to a hope beyond this moment, beyond our creation allows us, to live more fully into who we are and what we believe.  Amen