1st Sunday of Advent
Luke 21:25-36
Today is the start of the
season of Advent. It is a time of
waiting and anticipation here in the church, a time where we gather, light
candles, and prepare for the coming of our Lord. It is meant to be a time of quiet and
meditation and even penitence.
Meanwhile out in the commercial world, the opposite is going on. We are already deep into the Christmas season which starts probably in late October, ends December 25th and where it is supposedly our patriotic American duty to spend as much money as possible and do as many things as possible in as short a time as possible not matter how busy, stressed or broke it makes you. This season of Christmas becomes a frenzied time of shopping, decorating, visiting and cooking for the grand now almost entirely secular Holiday Season, which has little to nothing to do with the birth of our Lord or anything religious. And add in all the craziness going on in the world around us right now and it can be all be pretty exhausting. And somewhere in the middle of all this ear-splitting noise, we in our little churches have to carve out space for ourselves to survive and even thrive in this season.
And this is also a time of new beginnings. Today is also the start of a new church year, the dawning of a new year within the cycle of the liturgy of the church. A time when we consider our hopes and dreams for the future. It is fitting therefore that we begin this season with promises and prayers. The very first thing we read from the bible at the start of the year is God’s promises to the people of Israel from the prophet Jeremiah. We hear God’s promise that no matter how bleak things might look, God will be faithful and save his people from tribulation to live in righteousness, justice and peace. In the Psalm and second lesson we pray for ourselves and our brothers and sisters in Christ, that the Lord may guide, teach and strengthen us in the face of whatever is to come.
Advent is a season of promises and prayers. And we will need them all to face what to is to come this season. For next we hear from the Gospel of Luke. And this is a pretty intense text. It begins with dire predictions of the earth in distress, roaring seas, people fainting and ends with a declaration of the judgment of the son of Man. But maybe this is exactly what we need because for some of us this text perfectly captures the intensity of this season. The frenzied pace of action, the anxiety over what is going on around us, the busyness of the rapid pace of events, the worry of what is to come.
Yet there is an important lesson for all of us buried deep in the heart of this text. For in the midst of dire predictions about great signs Jesus stops to tell a parable about a fig tree. The sun, moon and stars are literally falling from the skies, the sea is roaring and people are fainting in fear, and Jesus tells us to pay attention to a tree. An ordinary little tree, doing the same boring old things that trees always do.
With all the grand events competing for our attention, Jesus tells us to watch a tree. He asks us to stop to take a deep breath and to step aside from the intensity of events, to look away from all the bright and shiny and shocking and even horrifying things and to pay attention to the simplicity of every day miracles. To see the sprouting of little buds and recognize the promise of the coming Spring. For there, and not in the grand events, is where the kingdom of God is found.
This is a hard task in this crazy time and requires immense discipline. In the midst of the world coming to an end who notices the trees? In the midst of hustle and bustle of great imperial decrees, who is going to notice a teenage mother giving birth in a stable? In the midst of all the loud and disturbing news coming from the television or internet, who is going to notice the people just trying to live their lives? In the midst of the rush to get gifts for an ever-growing family who is going to notice the child without a coat to wear? In the midst of making travel plans and preparing for holiday celebrations who notices the neighbor who is all alone?
Yet this kingdom of God is found in the sprouting of a fig tree and the glory of Lord is found lying in a manger. God is often found in the places we least expect but it takes real discipline to stop and to listen to the voice of the Lord.
This reminds me of the story of Elijah in the old testament. After fleeing persecution, Elijah goes to hide out in a cave in the wilderness, where an angel tells him that the Lord about to pass by. So Elijah waits and there is a great wind that comes roaring through, but the Lord is not in the wind. Then there is an earth quake, and then a great fire but the Lord is not in those either. Then finally in the sound of sheer silence, the Lord comes to Elijah in a still small voice with promises of hope for him and the people Israel.
And it is the same for us, we are told at the start of Advent that the Lord is coming and is about to be here, and then comes Black Friday with all the biggest sales of the year, but the Lord is not in sales, and then comes the decorating, and big holiday parties but the Lord is not in those either, and then finally there in the quiet in the still small voice of a child in a manger, the Lord comes. Undeterred by the confluence of world events, he comes. In a means indistinguishable from countless others, the hope of the world arrives as inconspicuously as buds on a fig tree.
So I urge you this advent season to be attentive to the signs of the coming of the Lord. Continue to notice what others may miss, continue to listen to the secrets hidden in plain sight in the scripture and to be alert and on the lookout for the everyday miracles that signal the kingdom of God. To spend quiet time listening for the Lord. To pray for others. And to be alert to the presence of the kingdom of God and the opportunities that you have to make that kingdom known to others. To spend an extra moment giving someone your place in line, or helping someone get their bags to their car. To buy an extra gift for someone in need or to spend some time with a neighbor or a friend who may be alone this Christmas. To take a moment to care for others or to take notice of the way that others still care and go the extra mile. For the kingdom of God has come near, but not in great signs and roaring seas, but in the innocence of an infant in a manger and the kindness of a stranger. Amen.
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