1 Advent C December 2, 2012
Luther Memorial Lutheran Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie Guengerich Hutson
Jeremiah 33: 14-16 Psalm 25: 1-10
1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13 Luke 21: 25-36
Even in our darkness, we pray Lord Jesus, that you would come quickly among us. Amen.
Last weekend I was walking along Market Street in Ballard, doing my best to participate in shopping at local small businesses, when I saw a boy who was probably in about the third grade standing under a store awning, with his hands on his hips, looking….up. There he stood, patiently, expectantly, not being moved from his spot by the post-Thanksgiving weekend bustle of Christmas shoppers. His mother and older brother had walked into the store, through the door under the awning, leaving the younger brother outside. Before long, his mother popped her head out the door “There you are!” she exclaimed. He didn’t even look at her. He just kept looking…up. The older brother, as older siblings often do, chimed in “What are you doing? What are you doing?” He grabbed his younger sibling by the elbow and tried to pull him out of his stance, but the younger boy wasn’t moving. “I’m waiting for it to snow” the younger brother finally explained. Both mother and older brother found that explanation quite implausible. “There’s no snow in the forecast” the mother explained “See the sky is clear, with no clouds, plus, it’s too warm and probably a little too early for snow” she continued lovingly. “You’re stupid” the older brother chimed in.
But he was not to be moved. He just stood there, looking up. And that was when it happened. To the utter astonishment of the mother and the older brother white flakes began to fly and swirl around the three of them and around the shoppers walking by. Everyone seemed startled and a little surprised at the suddenness of the white stuff and the intensity with which it was coming down. That is, they were surprised until they saw that the snow was actually fashioned of a bubbly soapy material, that had come in a sudden burst from the snow making machine mounted in the corner of the awning covering the store front. “How did you know that was going to happen?” asked the mother as she bent down in front of her happy younger son. “Duh, Mom” he replied “I just read the sign.” And sure enough, there in the store window was a sign that said “Every five minutes it will snow here in front of our store. Happy Holidays!”
We begin this season of Advent with a Gospel reading that is, perhaps, not at all what we expected. As we enter into this quiet season of reflection and contemplation and darkness, we expect a story commensurate with waiting for a baby. Or even a Savior. Gentle Jesus, in the manger.
What we get is Jesus the teacher speaking of signs in the sun, moon, and stars and distress among nations, and people fainting from fear, and roaring waters. And all of that pretty much just sounds like our news feed. But then Jesus continues on….the signs will include the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. And, he continues, this generation won’t pass away until this has happened.
So, what do we, who wait for signs of Jesus’ coming, do with a Gospel passage that sounds like sheer fantasy? That sounds so incredible and hard to believe and downright ludicrous….as ludicrous as watching for snow on a clear November day.
Living a Gospel centered life, a life that is grounded in the Kingdom, means, at its very core, living a life that is fantastically against culture. And by fantastic I don’t mean “wow this is great fun.” I mean fantastic as in the “Son of Man will come in a cloud.” Or “cut off your hand if it offends you” or “sell all of your possessions and follow Jesus”. Fantastic as in hard to believe, hard to imagine, hard to understand.
You know, some of those fantastic, hard to imagine stories happen right here, in this place. They happen as we catch glimpses of life in the Kingdom of God. They happen when we see compassion extended or grace offered. They happen when people come here for food and shelter and the warmth of conversation. They happen any time we work to alleviate the suffering of another. They happen when we pray for one another. And stories of the fantastic, upside down kingdom happen where we live and where we work and sometimes we see them on the news as “human interest stories” or we read about them and they warm our hearts and perhaps even inspire us to go out and do likewise.
It is in this fantastic kingdom of God that we begin a new year just when the culture is ending the year. Today is the first day in the church year. And we begin the day by lighting a single candle. A candle that reminds us that the Light of the world has come and is coming in just 4 short weeks and will come again. And here is the other thing about the way we light the candles of Advent…we light them even though the darkness grows. Each day, the hours of daylight we have grows shorter and the darkness lengthens…and still we light our candles. Persistent in our hope. Faithful in our watchfulness. Constant in our waiting.
And we need to be persistent and faithful and constant, because very often how we thought we understood life to be is not how it turns out at all. What we have been told is that is that if we work hard we will be rewarded. If we study hard, we will get good grades. If we have a job, we can support our families. If we do the right thing, we will be rewarded and if we do the wrong thing we will be punished in some way. But that is not always the way things work. Sometimes we study as hard as we possibly can, but our grades are not good. Sometimes, most times, one job is not enough to support a family. And all too often the right thing goes unnoticed and the wrong thing goes unpunished.
And then there are the unexplainable, inexplicable things that mark our lives: sickness, heartbreak, depression, burnout, fallout, failure, rejection, loss, financial ruin, displacement,….whatever it may be– times when we are very aware that the answers this world offers are insufficient. Dark times when we are very aware that we are unable to save ourselves. Times when we know that reality is fleeting, and that we stand in need of the miraculous, for that which we have experienced has not been enough. It will not save us. And that is what the gospel offers – a fantastic, impossible possibility, a reality that transcends the everyday real, a truth deeper than anything we know or can imagine, a story that envelopes and inhabits all of our stories.
When the Gospels were written, Jerusalem was in ruins, the temple was destroyed, Christians were being killed and there was dissension among believers. Families were being torn apart by conflicting loyalties. False prophets were everywhere. Times were terrible. There were seemingly more challenges than there were solutions. Not unlike today. And it was to this world that the Gospel writers reminded their hearers of what Jesus said. That even though all of these things were going to take place, that even when all of the signs said that there were great trials, God was not absent. God was and is present in the darkness. God was and is present in the time of trial. God was and is present with each of us in fantastic, extraordinary ways. In the only ways that matter and in the only ways that will make a difference.
In this time of waiting and watching, we, like that young boy at the storefront watch for signs. The sign we are watching for is a righteous branch. It is a fantastic sign. It is an unlikely sign, as unlikely as snow on a clear November day. As unlikely as an unwed teenager and her baby, there in the manger.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
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