“Holy Waiting” ¹

As we continue to experience the Word of the Lord together, Let us Pray. Give us we pray, O God, thoughts higher than own thoughts, prayers better than our own prayers, powers beyond our biological possibilities, that we may spend and be spent in the preaching and hearing of Thy Word. Amen.

It happens almost every year. It’s Thanksgiving weekend, and your spouse or good friend has just outdone him or her self in the kitchen, cooking a feast that Emeril himself would have envied; people will be talking about it for years. It is easy to wonder if it is physically possible to gain 5 pounds in two days, but the scales don’t lie…or do they. It’s been a warm and cozy holiday with family and dear friends gathered around the kitchen and the football games, and lo, it is Sunday morning. Time to go to church and give thanks for so many blessings.

And then it happens. The pastor turns to the Gospel of Mark, and reads. Hear now The Word of the Lord as it comes to us in Mark. Listen. Mark 13.24-37:

24 "But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, 25 and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. 26 Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in clouds' with great power and glory. 27 Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven. 28 "From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. 32 "But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33 Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34 It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35 Therefore, keep awake — for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36 or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37 And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."

The Grass withers, the Flower falls, but the Word of the Lord endures forever…Thanks be to God.

It is, of course, the first Sunday of Advent. And all of a sudden that nice warm glow from a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend dissipates into an unmistakable sense of discomfort. You find yourself scowling at the preacher who, of course, picks the worst time every time to follow the lectionary. The party is over, the mood, gone.

Or maybe it went like this. Thanksgiving was lousy. It was just the two of you, or perhaps just you, you’re not speaking to your siblings, not after last thanksgiving. Or it’s too close to the anniversary of your mother’s death, and all of your friends are out of town. They probably wouldn’t have invited you over anyway, and you’re such a lousy cook that you wouldn’t have dared to invite them. And so there goes another holiday. At least there’s church – you can usually find a little comfort there. Except that it’s the first Sunday of Advent, and you have to listen hard in the gospel of Matthew to hear some good news:

But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.  For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.  Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left.  Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left.  Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. (Matthew 24.36-42, Lectionary for Advent 1, Year A, last year).

Or, maybe it’s not about Thanksgiving for you. Maybe you’re the one who’s been shopping since October and totally grooving on the Christmas carols since the first of November. You saw the grinch on television this year on November 12, when it first aired. You can’t help but wonder why church has to be so gloomy when you, and everyone you see, seems to be having such a good time. Why are we hearing about the end of the world instead of singing “Joy to the World?” What’s the matter with enjoying a little Christmas spirit while we wait for the big day to arrive?

Advent. It’s the liturgical season that comes with a wonderful sense of expectation, but always leaves us disappointed. You have heard stories like these from folks in church where the rest of the world seems to be reveling in a month-long celebration, feasting and shopping and going to parties from late November to December 25, while the church is wringing its hands about the end of time.

Advent, it seems, is one great tug-of-war. There is conflict between our biblical instincts and our liturgical instincts that insist, on the one hand, that we observe a period of preparation before the great feast of Christmas. We require time to reflect on the depth of our need for a Savior. And yet, on the other hand, we are desperate for some joy! We face the hard truths about ourselves and the world all throughout the year. What’s wrong with a little merrymaking around the holidays? Besides, the kids are excited, the parents want a pageant, and everyone’s eager to start singing all those great Christmas carols we only get to enjoy once a year. What’s a pastor to do?

There is no season of the church year that is more fraught with tension than Advent – and no other time that reminds us so clearly of just how countercultural it is to be the church. The truth is that you don’t have to scratch the surface very hard to see that it’s not “the rest of the world” that’s whooping it up, but only those with the cash, or the plastic, to do so. You don’t have to look very far at all, in fact, to see why it makes a difference that we sing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” before we get around to “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” A look at the morning paper or the evening news will do it; every canned food drive and storefront bell-ringer reminds us, too.

Yes, there is a tension here, and we know it. On the one hand, there is rejoicing to be done! God’s promise of a messiah has been fulfilled – we have heard the good news of Jesus’ birth and we want to shout it from the rooftops, we want to Go and Tell it on the Mountain. There is cause for feasting and dancing and singing! The Savior has come, we have seen the light of Christ break through the darkness, and we are eager to remember and celebrate his birth.

On the other hand, we are all too aware that the new age inaugurated by Christ has not yet been made complete. While there is a great event to celebrate, there is so much to bewail about the state of the world. Jesus was born, to be sure, but he has yet to come again. People everywhere are hurting, serious hurt. Our friends and family pass away, we struggle with pain and sadness, and we see people who strive for just a simple meal. In Advent, more than any other time of the church year, we feel the tension between repenting and rejoicing.

These are not mutually exclusive impulses, for even as we confess our desperate need for a Savior we know that the Christ for whom we yearn has already come, that salvation is promised, and that one great day all God’s children will be gathered up and a new heaven and a new earth will be our eternal reality.

Thankful and rejoicing in the fact that Christ has come, we know that we need Christ to come again. But thankfully, we are assured He is. Here in Advent, memory and hope are heightened. The infant Jesus inhabits our lives, and the Christ who is coming again gives us glimpses of the world as it will be.

Perhaps it is fitting that Advent is the beginning of the liturgical year, for leaning into the kingdom is what the Christian life is all about. After a long season of ordinary time, when we deepen our understanding of God’s past dealings with us and sharpen our vision of the reign of God that is to come, we proclaim that Christ is indeed the King, that he will reign over all of creation in mercy and justice and love. The end of the liturgical year is its beginning, for that triumphant proclamation is enough to make us yearn with increased longing for the kingdom to come. Yes, that’s the way we want the world to be! That is the Messiah we crave! Come, Lord Jesus, Come. And so we enter into another Advent, another season of holy waiting.

The holy waiting is not passive, but active, for Advent is a time of journeying together from the world’s deep darkness to the dawning of Christ’s light. It is less about the reason for the season and more about renewing our real, deep, sincere hope for the world. The passages that we read every Advent call us to watch with expectancy, for as Romans 13.11 reads, “salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.” Amen.