Advent is an interesting time of year: we expect and know the outcome simultaneously, which
makes the whole business of anticipation somewhat anti-climatic. What more can we really expect? It's like being
a child and knowing already what is in each one of those carefully wrapped presents that twenty-four days from
now will be sitting under the tree. How much of a surprise can such a Christmas morning be?
I believe that our readings this morning are suggesting that in order to avoid the annual pre-Christmas marathon,
that seeming necessity of cramming so many activities in prior to the event that when Christmas does finally arrive
it's almost more of a relief that it's over than a celebration of its occurrence, we need to begin with a hard
look at what it is we really are expecting.
Part of that process begins with a careful assessment of where we are at this very moment. We began that process
last week on Christ the King Sunday, acknowledging that at the end of every Church year we find that we fall somewhat
short of doing all the things we think God has called us to do. That somber reading of the judgment, separating
the sheep from the goats is meant to be a reminder that we may not be as secure as we would like to be. The "good
news" in that analysis however, is that there is still time, and that God has given us another chance to do
better.
If we know where to begin, we have some idea of what we can expect. A foundation has been laid, the work of building
continues, but we know whereon we stand. Thomas Merton wrote that "What is uncertain about Christmas is not
the "coming" of Christ, but our own reception of him, our own response to him, our own readiness and
capacity to "go forth to meet him." Advent as a season is about "waking up" to a present reality
every bit as much as it is about anticipation of a gift about to be received.
What we "know" gives us a certain degree of power, but it does not determine the outcome. Even so, one
would be very foolish to begin without garnering as much understanding as possible. Mary for example knew with
the first stirrings of life within her womb that she would give birth the way of all women from the beginning of
time, the way her own mother had given birth to her. She no doubt knew many things about all the complexities of
childbearing, and learned more from relatives and friends as to what each new sensation meant, and yet as any first
time mother must also know, there is much that one can only learn when the actual time arrives. Even with a second
child, or a third, there is no guarantee that it will be the same as it was the first time, but there is a sense
that one is better prepared.
If there was no anticipation,…no anguish or concern over the degree of one's own ignorance the future of that evolving
life would be at risk. And how often the world has been at "risk" when even the Church has refused to
learn what it did not know; to anticipate what it was unwilling to see. A quick look at Church history will show
the embarrassing consequences of such a stance. We burned the heretics who refused to believe the world was flat,
and later those who proposed that the earth was not the center of the universe. We sanctioned the fact that women
were totally responsible for sin in the world, and that some people were meant to be sold into slavery and forced
to do the work that no one else wanted to do.
Such "realities," born of ignorance and kept alive by fear are now seen as the foolishness of another
time, but are we really convinced that we have grown so wise so as to no longer be susceptible to the same kind
of shortsightedness?
In the same way, how hard it is to convince the addicted that there is a problem, or the person with no sense of
self-worth that you are loved? Knowledge comes with experience, and experience is always frightening the first
time. It's like the reality of sitting in the deep darkness, and very slowly beginning to perceive images by a
light that you never knew. Reflected light, of moon and stars, an illumination almost missed in the glare of that
which is artificially produced.
In Advent we are reminded God is not coming, but that God is here! We are being told to wake up to that fact. To
be vigilant! "From the fig tree learn."
The president asks us to be vigilant in keeping our eyes open for possible terrorist behavior. We must be more
vigilant in caring for our children, in tending to their safety. Vigilant to in being advocates for our own health
care. How do we keep vigilant without becoming paranoid?
Both the Psalm and the Old Testament lessons for this morning are "laments." Generally, a lament is a
prayer that cries out to God from the midst of desperate grief, pain, or any circumstance that seems "out
of control." It vocalizes the hurt with the conviction and the faith, that God can and will bring relief.
A lament is not just the venting of frustration, but is a profound statement of faith in a God who is known to
be both just and caring. The significance of a lament is that the worshipper prays in the midst of their pain,
admitting their own shortcomings, and believing that God will bring about the proper outcome.
For those who have lost their jobs, their partners, their children, their sense of security, their health…is there
good news to be found here? Absolutely! The first candle of Advent is the candle of Hope. It recognizes our constant
need as the people of God to bring Hope to the world. Today is World AIDS Day, and the current reports of the spread
of this terrible disease throughout Africa and India are staggering. As with so many life threatening conditions
the billions of dollars raised for research have made great advances, but the trickle down effect of such medical
marvels will never reach the poorest of the poor. Who will speak for them?
Every one of our readings for today include a cry to God for help, and an acknowledgment of our need for faithfulness.
That is the Hope of the Church. To be a prophetic voice for change and justice. It's what we know to be true, and
it's a truth others should be able to expect from us. It's grounded in our knowledge not just of our present circumstances,
but also of our future destiny that nothing, save our own indifference can ever contradict.
The story was told that this past holiday weekend had arrived and the ticket counters at the airport were crowded
by those who had waited until the last minute before purchasing their tickets. One of those people in the crowd
was a parish priest who, after a considerable period of time managed to get to the counter.
The clerk said "I'm sorry this has taken so long, it seems like everybody waits until the last minute to get
ready for a trip they knew they were taking months ago."
"That's okay" the priest responded. "I know what you mean, I have the same problem in my business."
Are you ready?
As we light the First Candle of Advent:
Beloved remember always, Our Hope is in the Lord our God - and in the One whom God has sent to be judge of the
living and of the dead - the one who has come forth from Jesse and whose return in glory we even now await. Our
hope may falter - but God never fails. God sends forth light to encourage us and to light our way even as we await
the fulfillment of the promises made to Israel and to all the earth.
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