"What are We Waiting For?" | The Rev. Heidi Thorsen | November 29, 2020
Advent 1 | Year B
May I speak in the name of the Holy One, who is to us Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
It is now the season of Advent - somehow the time is flying and we are here. Advent is a season of waiting, hope, longing, and anticipation. And there are lots of ways that we really live into the anticipation of this season. We mark the passage of weeks by lighting candles. We mark the passage of days by opening up those tiny cardboard windows of advent calendars, eating all of those sweets that look a lot like chocolate, actually but taste like generic sugar. And we make paper chains and count down the days until Christmas, as visions of sugar plums dance in our heads.
And yet, our gospel passage for today makes me pause and ask: do we know exactly what it is we are waiting for? Because Mark’s description of the sun and moon darkening, and the Son of Man coming down from the clouds, winds circling - that is a far cry from Christmas merriment. In fact, I’m willing to bet that the angels that come down with the Son of Man look nothing like the sugar plum fairies of our dreams.
How do we account for this discrepancy? On the one hand, Christmas makes us think of joy, glitter, presents, poinsettia, light. On the other hand, our lectionary readings give us darkness, doom, warnings, and uncertainty. Do we know what we are waiting for? Have we somehow, accidentally, gotten in way over our heads with this Christmas thing?
Let’s start by answering that first question: How do we account for the discrepancy? How do we reconcile the joy that we have come to associate with Christmas, with today’s apocalyptic readings?
One answer to this question is fairly straightforward: our reading for today, from the gospel of Mark, comes at a very different part in the gospel story than the events that we anticipate when we think of Christmas. Jesus’ birth happens at the very beginning of the story, as one might imagine - we read these narratives in the gospels of Matthew and Luke. On the other hand, our gospel passage for today comes towards the end of the story. Towards the end of his earthly ministry, Jesus warns his disciples about a time of suffering and persecution yet to come. Jesus predicts that the temple in Jerusalem will be destroyed, and that after that time of suffering the Son of Man will come again. This passage feels far away from the story of Jesus in a manger for so many reasons. First, it takes place decades later in the timeline of Jesus’ life. Second, it talks about a time even further in the future - a time of which we know neither the day nor the hour. And finally, there are aspects of this passage that speak to the particular historic moment in which the gospel of Mark was written - around 70 ce, decades after Jesus’ death and resurrection. This was a pivotal time in Israel’s history, as Roman forces moved in and destroyed the second temple in Jerusalem. Jesus’ apocalyptic words in the gospel of Mark provide commentary on that historical moment, as Jews and followers of Christ tried to make sense of the destruction that was about to happen, or perhaps may have already taken place.
In other words, the day that Jesus anticipates in today’s passage from the gospel of Mark is not Christmas. We do not light advent candles in anticipation of that day when the sun will be darkened. And we don’t make paper chains counting down the days until the end times. Or at least, we don’t do that in the Episcopal Church.
Nevertheless, there is a reason that we read these stories about the future coming of the Son of Man now, at the beginning of the season of advent. I think it was divine inspiration through the Holy Spirit that our ancestors who put together the lectionary offer us this reading, inviting us to reflect on the end of times even as we prepare ourselves for the moment when it all began - the moment when Jesus was born to Mary and her husband Joseph in a manger in Bethlehem. This combination of beginnings and endings helps us to think of the story of salvation in its entirety. Jesus walked on the face of this earth for 33 years. And while we, as Christians, tend to focus on the ending - the cross - as the source of our salvation, it’s important for us to remember that Jesus would have never gotten to that moment if not for the 33 years that preceded it. Jesus would never have gotten to the cross if not for his birth.
And of course, God knew this. God knew that in sending God’s son into the world, one day that son would die. God knew the plan for salvation. God knew this plan not only on the cusp of Jesus’ birth, but long before then. God knew it with each generation that passed, as we read about in the Old Testament. And this story of salvation - it continues on in Jesus’ life. It continues on through Jesus’ healing, through Jesus’ teachings, through Jesus’ ministry of love. This story of salvation doesn’t end at the cross either. Because after death there is resurrection - beginnings and endings tied together again, just as in this season of advent. Furthermore, Jesus’ words about the second coming of the Son of Man remind us that God’s plan for salvation continues onward into the future, beyond all the events described in the gospels and the New Testament, and on into our present day. It is a story with many beginnings and endings. Or perhaps it would be better to say, a story with no definitive beginnings or endings at all. It is a story that is present to us always, just as God is present to us always.
Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus reminded his followers to count the cost of discipleship. In the gospel of Luke Jesus says, “which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it?” Surely God, at the beginning of this salvation story, asked the same question. Surely God, on the night that Jesus came into this world, committed not just to the joy but also to the suffering, to the learning, to the beginnings and the endings, to the whole of Jesus’ ministry, even to death on a cross. I’m sure we are all tired of 20/20 puns in this year when 2020 turned out to be more than we bargained for, and yet I think it’s a fitting metaphor here. Our gospel reading for today gives us a 20/20 vision of God’s plan for salvation: birth, life, death, new life. We get the whole picture. All of it - each piece a part of our salvation.
Perhaps it is true that we don’t know exactly what we are looking forward to, when we anticipate Christmas. Perhaps it’s impossible for us to imagine the magnitude of what God does in this moment when Jesus comes into the world. Perhaps it’s impossible for us to hold together the whole story of salvation: past, present, and future. And also, perhaps it’s enough that God has counted that cost for us already, so that we can have moments of joy - moments of lightness and anticipation - without jumping ahead to the hard parts of the story. Perhaps it’s enough that God sees the end in the beginning, and the new beginnings that await beyond the cross.
So: how are we to respond to God’s plan of salvation - past, present, and future - if we can’t fully understand the magnitude of this story? Our gospel text for today has some advice. Jesus says: keep awake. Keep awake. That is the task that we are given to do. This applies not only at the end of times, when the Son of Man comes in great power and glory. Rather, it applies at all times - because God is present at all times, working in and through our lives, past, present, and future. That is what the incarnation is all about.
And so, keep awake! Keep awake when the shepherds keep watch in the field, and a star streaks across the sky, and a remarkable baby is born in a manger - an event so seemingly insignificant, we might almost overlook it. Keep awake when the prophets cry out in the wilderness: behold, make way for the Lord. Keep awake during that sermon on the mount, because we all know how hard it can be to stay alert through a long sermon. Keep awake in the garden of Gethsemane, when Jesus asks his sleepy disciples to watch and pray. Keep awake, when Jesus has breathed his last breath, and the cock has crowed, and all hope seems gone - because resurrection is surely coming. Keep awake for the day when the Son of Man returns to this world with great power and glory.
But also, keep awake for the story of salvation as it lives on in your life today.
Keep awake for the kindness of strangers.
Keep awake for the way the sun parts through the clouds.
Keep awake for the promise of a vaccine.
Keep awake for moments of peace and quiet.
Keep awake for the word of God in the voice of a friend.
Keep awake! Because God’s plan for salvation is vast, stretching out far into the past, long before the birth of Jesus; and far into the future, into our own lives. We don’t need to wait until the end of days to take Jesus’ advice to heart. We don’t need to wait until we get to the end of our advent calendars, or our paper chains to see Jesus. God is already here, among us, with us, everyday.
In this season of anticipation, may we never forget to keep awake and watch for the presence of God in our own time. While this year of 2020 may not be the present that we hoped it would be, it is a part of God’s unfolding plan of salvation, nevertheless. Look for Jesus in the stories of the Bible. Look for Jesus in your own life. And don’t let anticipation for some better day in the future keep you from finding God here, now, wherever you are today, in this present moment - because God is surely with you.
Keep awake! Amen.