Sermon of 03 December 2018, on the first Sunday of Advent, at First Christian Church of Hampton VA. Posted much later, and some edits were made in the moment of delivery at the end.
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GOSPEL OF MARK 13:24-37 (New Revised Standard Version)
“But in those days, after that suffering,
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will be falling from heaven,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.
Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 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.
“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. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.
“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 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. 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, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
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INTRODUCTION
In a commentary on Mark 13, it is noted that “most of us have come to think of (Advent) as a season preparing us for the birth of Christ, (but) it originally had quite a different emphasis. In the early church, Advent began a time of repentance and preparation for the church’s second most important time for baptisms,” held on Epiphany, while Christmas celebrations themselves didn’t begin to take hold until the fourth century. So reading the Gospel of Mark, the first of the Gospels to be written, actually brings us a bit closer to the perspective and practice of the early days of the church, when “Christians renounced the sin over which God’s judgement stood while preparing to accept the new birth in Christ”.
I suspect the early Christians were more aware than we, for all of our cultural obsession with time, of how both the Old and New Testaments understood time as lineal – it moves forward, not in a circle. So, when they heard these words read to them, of the “Son of Man coming in clouds, with great power and glory,” they saw themselves as truly called to live a life expectant of Christ’s return.
WHY I BRING THIS UP
Which brings me to ask, in light of today’s scripture, WHAT are our expectations of Advent?
FOR INSTANCE
The word “Advent” comes from the Latin “Adventus,” meaning “coming”. In contemporary English, most of us understand an advent as a beginning. It is a season the Church has used to focus not only on the Incarnation of Jesus Christ some two millennium ago, but a season when strong reminders are issued through Scripture that give us a chance re-engage ourselves in the Biblical story and the hope of Jesus Christ.
The Second Coming of Christ is a central theme that runs throughout our Judeo-Christian story. The Old Testament prophets, the Gospels, the Epistles, the Books of Daniel and Revelation – each has spoken of the day when the world as we know it will pass away and the perfect and completed Kingdom of God will be ushered in. Said Jesus, “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” This raises an interesting question as to the purpose of Jesus telling His followers about this “last day,” when he added: “…keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 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. Therefore, keep awake!”
I do not see that Jesus’ word was designed to prompt us to a life of anxiety or fear, as any reading of I John 4:18 would clarify. Far from it. I do believe it is a call to a life of action, in whatever form that takes within the limitations of our frail frames – always confident in one’s relationship with Jesus Christ. This notice reminds us that NOW is the time to put forth renewed energy, prodding us toward the servant’s duty to care for the house in such a way that if the Master were to return today – or a thousand years from now – he would be pleased to find our good stewardship of his message. If we are told to watch for the master’s return, we need not wait in fear, for he who is returning is the same loving Lord who went on ahead of us. The one who has loved us to death on a cross, opened the future to us through his resurrection, and will accompany us to the judgement seat of God.
The new church year is a cyclical re-enactment needed to teach and reteach the message of Christ by immersing ourselves once more in the holy story of our beginnings in Christ Jesus. Our connection to the immediacy of Advent can become dulled if we fail to re-immerse ourselves in the Advent story, wherein we express our yearning for what Jesus proclaimed was breaking forth in Luke 4 [4:16-21] echoing the prophecy of Isaiah, moving us toward the hope of the second coming of Christ when in the Jubilee injustices are righted and Creation healed as divisions caused by race, nationality, greed, hostility, sickness, and sorrow are finally set aside.
When I think about such a gentle sense of urgency, what comes to my mind is what I saw in my Dad bringing a recluse out into the light and from isolation into family, which at first may seem an odd story for Advent, but in reading the passage from the Gospel of Mark, I think such urgency to lift up others as much as ourselves is at the very heart of Advent.
Dad was done with leading the service at his student church: the only remaining church in a crossroads village out among the wheat fields of southern Kansas. We had dined at the village café before starting home on the 96-mile drive back to Oklahoma. Many times, Dad would stop to visit a farmer who lived in a shack pretending to be a house. We never saw the man, as Dad would knock on the door and disappear inside. About an hour later, Dad would emerge and we would continue on our way. One day Dad took me in with him, as all of 3 or 4 years old, I stepped out of the bright summer day into what seemed to be the night. There was but a string light hanging from the ceiling and the light appeared to be absorbed into the blackness, as the walls, ceiling, and even the old man himself were coated by the flat soot of the coal stove he used to both heat and to cook. I could only see his eyes and his teeth, like a coal miner living in a mine. But it really wasn’t living.
Spring had moved to late summer. Dad once more disappeared into the house on one visit, but this time was different as after a while both he and the man came outside and he was introduced to my mom and siblings. For the first time, we all saw him in the light, coal black from the dirt and soot that clung to his unbathed skin. I remember sensing a kind man as he asked me to pick out a watermelon from his patch. “Make sure it is a big one,” he said. The sweet feast began as this formerly isolated man invited us to be his family, the new addition whom Dad soon baptized into Christ.
Back when I was in seminary, I remember reading a book by Morris West, an amazing novel telling the story about the imminent return of Christ. In ‘Clowns of God’, he wrote of how the pope has a revelation that Christ is returning for the final judgement. After sharing this news with the cardinals, they decide that it is best to say he is senile and exile him to the monastery. But he still gets the message out to some people in Europe and tells them to start forming cell groups of Christians all over the world.
As time passes and Christmas Eve approaches, while the world brutalizes itself with wars even as it treats itself with excesses, one cell group meets in the hills of Bavaria to share the celebration of Christ’s birth. An interesting Middle Eastern type joins them for the celebration and when he is asked if he is a believer, he says: “I am not a believer; I am he.” “Give us a sign,” they say. “If you were really he, you would say, ‘Ask and it shall be given.” “ Ask,” he said. “Time,” they said. “Enough time to change a world, to beautify it, to cleanse it, to prepare it for you.” “I accept,” he said. “How much time do we have,” they asked. “I won’t say,” he said. “Not much—but enough!”
Is that not Advent?
Is it not wanting to know that we have enough time to say, “I’m sorry.” To have enough time to heal an old wound, to change course in mid-stream, to say “no” instead of “yes,” to say “yes” instead of “no.”
Is it not wanting needful time to BE AWARE: to notice His presence every day in those around us, to be His presence in this hurting world which we inhabit, to be alert for where we can facilitate kindness, generosity of spirit, forgiveness, or perhaps sometimes as humbling as a smile?
Is there time to decorate the manger of our hearts with repentance, with new determination, with a more constant and focused love?
SO WHAT?
How much time do we have, not much time – but enough! And that is Advent.
Amen.
©2020 by Vinson W. Miller, Hampton VA.
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