Are You Ready?
By Rev. Dr. Karin A. Case
November 29, 2009
First Sunday of Advent
Lessons: Jeremiah 33:14-16, Luke 21: 25-36
What an odd way to begin! Here we are on the first Sunday of Advent, ready to get ready for the coming of Christ. Ready for Advent wreaths and candles and greenery. Ready for special music and special worship. Ready to turn our minds toward a prophesied prince of peace, a special star, a special child. All set for Mary’s and Elizabeth’s angelic visitations, for wise men and shepherds. Hey—we’re even up for a dose of John the Baptist-style repentance, mixed in with some locusts and wild honey! We’re getting ready to welcome the infant Jesus, peacefully wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.
So, what an odd way this is to begin Advent!—With Luke’s talk of signs in the sun, moon, and stars, of distress among nations, images of cataclysm, judgment and redemption, “the Son of Man coming in a cloud.” Why the disquieting warning to “be on guard” and “keep alert?” What are we to make of this approach to Christmas? Whatever happened to angels singing and animals gathered in a stable? And when can I have my eggnog latte?
Friends, we have stumbled right smack into an apocalypse—a scriptural text that sets our teeth on edge and makes us wonder what it’s all about. Today we begin—not with a prophecy, or a birth, or a baby—but with a bizarre, even disturbing warning about portents of the end time. This passage from Luke is referred to as the apocalyptic discourse of Jesus.
Apocalypse, from the Greek word, simply means to reveal. In both Old and New Testaments, we find apocalyptic writings: the Book of Daniel, the Book of Revelation, some of the prophets—including Jeremiah—which we read a moment ago. And then there’s this short segment from Luke—the apocalyptic discourse of Jesus. But this is confusing. What, exactly, is an apocalypse? If apocalypse simply means revelation, what’s distinctive about apocalyptic literature in the Bible? After all, can’t we say that all of scripture is about God’s revelation?
Here’s the deal: as a genre, apocalyptic literature focuses on revelation through signs, symbols and visions. When you come across a passage referring to signs appearing in the sun, moon, and stars, to visions of strange, mythical beasts, or seraphs with multiple sets of wings, you can bet you’ve stumbled onto an apocalyptic passage.
But it’s more than simply a focus on signs and visions. Apocalyptic literature is concerned with certain themes such as history, eschatology, and the end times.
Apocalyptic thinking and writing tends to occur in times of great crisis and upheaval. Is it any wonder that the early Christians, living through the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple, would turn to an apocalyptic form of expression? People living in dire circumstances often did. Jeremiah does, during the Babylonian exile. And six centuries later, standing in the streets of Jerusalem, Jesus does, too.
The destruction of Jerusalem and of the temple were catastrophic events for the early Jewish-Christian community. Luke’s audience was in a state of crisis over their very future. The destruction of the temple—the center of Jewish life—was a political crisis—Jerusalem was now under the occupation of Rome. It was a religious crisis as well. “How do we interpret this destruction,” wondered the early Christians? Does it mean that the world is coming to and end? What will become of us?
From the streets of Jerusalem, Jesus speaks to the crowd, assuring them that despite the destruction and devastation, indeed, no matter how terrible the present circumstance, God’s redemption is drawing near. This apocalyptic discourse of Jesus is a testimony of hope. Against the bleakest of historical situations—destruction, displacement, diaspora, it is an assertion that in the great arc of time—God’s purpose is being and will be worked out.
Despite the troubles and hardships of any particular era, the broad sweep of history is within God’s great purpose. Despite calamitous events, all the suffering of the present time will be swept away with the coming reign of God. In God’s new era, our tears will be wiped away. Justice and right relationship will be restored. The wicked will be punished and the righteous will be comforted.
Jesus’ words speak to those living in extreme and dire circumstances. Are we, also, living in such a time? Some say that the years ahead will be painful for us, as they mark the inevitable decline of the American empire. That shifting economic and political realities undermine U.S. supremacy in power and influence, military might, and cultural dominance. Some say that we are on a course toward certain environmental destruction, and that if we do not repent, if we do not turn around, we will effectively doom our planet, stripping away its capacity to sustain life.
Are we living in a time of impending catastrophe? Are we—as a culture and as an entire species—approaching a day of judgment in which the world as we know it will crumble?
In the face of such a future, in the midst of such a present, what do we Christians believe—what do you believe—about God’s redemption? Is God redeeming human history? Will God, finally, draw all time and history together in one great sweep? And if so, what does that redemption look like? Does it look the same to us as it did to first century Christians? Does it look like lightning and thunder, the tumult of nations, the roaring of the sea? Does it look like “the Son of Man coming in a cloud?”
Or does it, perhaps, look like something a little more ordinary? Does redemption appear as slow, painstaking political change? Does it look like a people’s movement for just economic practices? Does it look like a new green revolution? Does it look like love taking hold in individual human hearts? Does it look like the restoration of broken relationships? Does it look like shelter and hospitality and a welcome table?
What does redemption look like? Will we know it when we see it? There’s an old New-Yorker style cartoon depicting a meditator who is looking quizzical and a bit confused. Sitting in front of a meditation master, he asks, “ You mean this is it? This is all there is?”
Friends, this is it. We are living in the in-between time, between the already and the not yet. God’s redemption is both a future event and a present reality. The New Testament speaks of an end time, but Jesus also tells us over and over and over again that the realm of God is in our midst. The kingdom of God is at hand. God is already with us, already right here.
Perhaps our Advent preparation is, in part, a practice of shifting our vantage point so that we can see what is right here in our midst: the signs and wonders of ordinary life. The small, daily redemptions that come as pure grace. Perhaps our Advent preparation is about allowing the space for the ordinary to shine with God’s radiant presence. Perhaps getting ready means paying attention to what already is.
We progressive Christians are not big on signs and portents. We do not hold to one, particular view of the end time or Second Coming of Christ. Nor do we believe in a specific date and time in which God’s redemption will be accomplished. But we do believe in the first coming—the incarnation, the nativity of Christ, God-with-us. And this is what we are preparing for—God with us and among us—now!
We may choose not to focus on signs and portents. Perhaps they are simply too weird, ambiguous, or puzzling for our sensibilities. But we can still heed Luke’s advice. He warns, “Be ready! Be on guard, so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap…be alert at all times.”
This is solemn advice for the Advent season. Be sober. Do not overindulge in food drink, and material possessions. Do not become obsessed with the worries of this world. It is more than a little ironic, isn’t it, that our culture pushes us to do exactly the opposite—to party and indulge and shop and ramp up for Christmas? Luke suggests quite powerfully, that all of this gets in the way. If we are to be ready for the in-breaking God, ready for the small miracle of a child, the ordinary miracle of love, the saturating gift of God’s presence, we need to be alert.
God has given us eyes to see and hearts to perceive the gifts that are present right here with us, even in a time of upheaval and uncertainty. If we are to see—as the meditation master suggests to the student—the fullness and beauty of this moment —now, here is a wise practice for Advent: focus on removing the obstacles that stand in your way. Perhaps your obstacle is not food or wine or over-indulgence. Maybe it is a long to-do list, an inflated expectation of providing the best Christmas ever for your children, maybe the obstacle is simple busy-ness and cumber. If we ask ourselves honestly, most of the time we know what stands in our own way.
Traditionally, Advent was a time of paring back, of fasting and sober discipline leading up to the great festival of Christmas. Much like the feeling of Lent leading up to the festival of Easter. There is ancient wisdom here. True preparation for Christ’s coming looks more like a paring back, than a frenzied ramping up of activity.
Jesus says, Wake up! Be alert! Friends, “these are more than just tips for surviving into the eschaton.” They are a summons to fullness of life in the present time, in this moment, now.” If you want some spiritual advice from scripture, listen to Luke! Pay attention to what matters most. Take the time to see with new eyes the everyday wonders of God’s presence now and here. Be ready! Stay alert!