1st Sunday of Advent 2012: December 2, 2012
Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36
"Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs"
PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith
Grace and peace to you
from the one who is, who was, and who is to come. Amen.
Every year,
a large box arrives on our doorstep just before the 1st Sunday in
Advent, and this year was no exception. My sons know this delivery is a sure
sign that Christmas is coming. These boxes have been mailed to St. Paul,
Minnesota; Lincoln, Nebraska; Waco, Texas; Chicago, Capron, and now Crystal
Lake, Illinois, but the sender’s label is always the same: “from Mormor.”
Mormor—the
Swedish name for grandmother, a.k.a. my mom—has put together these Advent boxes
since the boys were tiny. The idea is simple: every day they each have a tiny
gift to open, plus special ones for the Sundays in Advent. Matchbox cars,
bouncy balls, tree ornaments, pencils, and chocolates are common fare. Over the
years, the boys have perfected their abilities to shake, squeeze, smell, and
identify these little packages, moving the PopTarts and marshmallow Santas to
the top and the pencils and socks to the bottom of the pile. This year, Mormor
called to ask if Caleb and Zion, now 11 and 14, still wanted an Advent box. “YES!”
they cried, and with gusto! I think Mormor may have to send Advent boxes to
their college dorms in a few years.
The arrival
of the Advent box is a sure sign in our house that “the days are surely coming”
when school will be out, when the snow will fall, when the presents will be
under the tree—oh, and when Jesus is born among us again on Christmas.
Unfortunately,
the biblical texts we have for this first Sunday of Advent, though they are
indeed about signs and the expectation of things to come, do not mention chocolates
or Advent calendars or twinkling lights or any of the other wonderful signs
that Christmas is on its way.
Instead, we
hear the words of the prophet Jeremiah, promising to a Jerusalem lying in ruin
that “the days are surely coming” when God’s justice and righteousness will
rule and Jerusalem will live in peace.
And we hear Jesus’
own words, words spoken to his disciples just before the Last Supper, just
before he entered Jerusalem, and just before his earthly ministry ended in a
public crucifixion. In those last days, Jesus told those closest to him: “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…Now when these
things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your
redemption is drawing near.”
It’s strange
to hear Jesus speak like this, on a day when we are celebrating the beginning
of the new church year, the beginning of Advent, and the beginning of the
holiday season of peace, love, and light. These are verses which have been
interpreted by many to be signs of the end of all things, and so we may hear
these words and envision being “raptured” or, even worse, “left behind.”
But consider
that Jesus, himself, was approaching the end. He knew the likely outcome of his
radical preaching, healing, and teaching. And he spoke these things to a people
who were about to experience the world as they knew it to fall apart around
them.
It may be
hard to understand how these words could ever be signs of hope or a promise of
peace. We, who live in relative comfort and privilege, feel understandably frightened
to hear about the stars and moon and sun moving out of their orbits, or the
waves crashing in on us, or nations around us warring with one another.
But is it
possible for us to look outside ourselves and imagine how others might hear
these words?
Imagining ourselves as disciples in the 1st century may
be a stretch—but how might you hear Jesus’ words if you were living in Breezy
Point, New York, this holiday season: still without power, your neighbors’
homes flooded and destroyed, your car filled with mold, your business unable to
open, the insurance check not yet arrived, your kids wondering if Christmas
will happen this year?
And how
might you hear these words from Jesus if you lived in Syria today: the bombs
relentlessly coming, your children hungry, the priest of your church killed in
the crossfire, internet and phone communications cut off for the last 4 days
countrywide?
And, if you
can do this—if you can imagine yourself in Breezy Point or Syria—then can you
imagine how might you hear these words from Jesus when you’ve been out of work
for 2 years, when the foreclosure is nearly complete, when the next drink is
your first thought in the morning, when the doctors say your 11 year old
child’s cancer has spread, or when the marriage counseling just isn’t working?
Of course,
the truth is, in spite of the lights and the trees and the parties of the
season, and in glaring contrast to our beautiful surroundings today, for many
among us—for many sitting in these pews today—Advent is not a season of peace. For
many of us, the heavens are shaking. The things we thought were as constant and
permanent as the sun and moon and stars in the sky are falling down around us.
Powers and principalities, systems and situations we cannot control are roaring
like a tsunami through our lives.
And if these
are the signs you see in your life this December, then perhaps these verses do
not sound so out of place this morning. Instead of a prediction of the end, you might hear a description of your current reality. Instead of looking to the
skies and wondering when Jesus is coming and whether you will be “left behind”,
you hear these words and know that you can hang on—not because Christmas is
coming, but because Jesus is coming again.
Theologian
and poet Dom Helder Camara, in his poem “It’s Midnight, Lord”, speaks of the
way Jesus comes when we need him the most:
“In the
middle of the night,
When stark
night was darkest,
Then You
chose to come.
It is true,
Lord, it is midnight upon the earth,
Moonless
night and starved of stars.
But can we
forget that You,
The Son of
God,
Chose to be
born precisely at midnight?
If you had
been afraid of shadow
You would
have been born at noon.
But you
preferred the night.
Lord, you
were born in the
Middle of
the night
Because
midnight is
Pregnant
with dawn....
The darker
the night,
The more
joyful the dance;
The deadly
past is dead
When the sun
is reborn--
Precious
present, gift of now.”
Sisters and
brothers in Christ, we can all hear these words and find the strength to stand up and raise our heads, for Jesus,
his kingdom, and his peace, are
drawing near.
Yes, I want
you to stand up! Stand up, because
you know that when the credit card bills are piling up, when the doctor’s
report is terrible, when the news from the Middle East is ominous, when the fiscal
cliff is looming before us, we can trust in the One who said: “Now when these
things begin to take place, stand up
and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
Stand up, because you may be in the midst of
your bleak midwinter, but Jesus says spring is coming.
Stand up, because “Heaven and earth will pass
away, but my words will not pass away” says the Lord.
And so, my
dear people, on this first Sunday of Advent, as you prepare for that holy day
when we, with all the choirs of angels, praise God for being born among us a
baby, I hope you will also find strength, and courage, and peace, to stand in the promise that Christ will
come again.
Chiefly, I
pray that you will know that you are not alone. Know that the Bethany
community, and the worldwide community of Christians, stands with you today,
and joins you in praying this Advent season: Come, Lord Jesus.
Come, O
Prince of Peace, and set your people free.
Come, and
set things straight in our community.
Come, and
make peace between nations.
Come, and
make peace in my household.
Come, Lord
Jesus, and be born once again in my heart, in my community, and in my world. Amen.
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