Wait

Luke 21:25-36

Happy New Year, friends! Stores have been stocking red and green décor since October and it’s nearly impossible to turn on a television without flipping past sentimental Christmas programs, and plenty of ambitious folks already have trees lit and decorated in their homes. Our culture may have rushed ahead to Christmas, but we in the Church manage to beat everyone to the ringing in of a new year. This first Sunday of Advent, we move from one Church year to another, and from one season to another. We may not be decked out in evergreen and red ribbons, but our altar guild has made sure we’re decorated for the occasion. The altar hangings have changed from the lush green of Ordinary Time to the deep blue of Advent. Our bulletins are no longer counting the weeks since Pentecost, and some of our prayers will sound a little different as we mark the change with a different form of the Eucharistic prayer.

The wheel of the church year turns on a different rhythm and with a different central point than that of the secular solar calendar. We spend long seasons walking with Jesus through the ups and downs of his ministry, from town centers to wilderness roads to mountain tops to the Temple steps. Then we transition into seasons of waiting and preparation, seasons of quiet darkness as we slowly turn toward a great light. We are in one of those seasons now, the season of Advent. In our fast moving and Christmas-oriented culture, it is easy to forget that Advent and Lent are mirrors of one another, two seasons that move us from the green seasons of ordinary time toward the bright white high points of our religious life. Both Advent and Lent are characterized by dark cool colors that remind us of the long nights of winter and the depth of the hours leading to dawn. Like Lent, Advent has historically been observed by the church with fasting and contemplation, a restrained and simple time of expectation. This is where we get traditions like the Advent wreath, which offers us a visual reminder of the darkness which is slowly giving way to light each week as we approach the birth of Christ into the world. Until relatively recently, homes and trees were not decorated until Christmas week, and the festivities lasted the full twelve days of Christmas culminating in a festive celebration of the Epiphany. Work and school schedules as well as a rise in travel at the holidays has changed this practice, making it hard at times to remember and mark the Advent season.

The rest of your week, for the next month, you’ll be inundated by advertisements and holiday party invitations and beautiful lights and wreaths and bows. If you prefer an artificial tree, you may already have it set up and decked in sentimental and carefully placed ornaments. You might have started listening to the Christmas station back on Halloween. I can tell you my front door already has a wreath on it, and Ben and I have started planning how on earth two priests make time to decorate our house during one of our two busiest times of year. I’m not here to fuss at you for when and how you choose to bring cheer and brightness into the darkness of Advent. I think most of us are entirely fed up with the waiting we’ve been asked to do these past two years, and when we’re honest with ourselves we know there is still more waiting and impatience ahead of us if we are to truly see an end to the worst aspects of this pandemic. No, I’m not going to shame you for being ready for Christmas. In fact, being ready is exactly what Jesus is calling us to this morning.

 A strange and cryptic description of the end of time is an interesting way for us to enter into this new season, but it definitely drives home the point that Advent is not Christmas. Much like the lesson a few weeks ago when Jesus predicted the destruction of the Temple and the disasters and challenges of faith that would befall his followers after his death, Jesus is here only days away from the betrayal which would lead to his execution. At the Temple, Jesus warned his disciples of the trials and tribulations to come. Here, again, Jesus shares the future with his gathered disciples. There will be signs, he tells them, of the end of all things earthly. The sun and moon and stars will foretell his return just as a star told kings from a faraway land of his birth. The peoples will be distressed and distraught, some will event faint and fall down. The powers of the heavens, the very laws of the universe and physics will be broken and altered by the advent of the Son of Man. As we begin a season of anticipation for the simple birth of a peaceful infant in a lowly stable, Jesus is here with us, all grown up, to remind us what else we are waiting for.

Advent is not simply a countdown to Christmas Eve. If that’s all it was, it would be simpler just to skip ahead to the good part. Advent means coming, arrival, emergence. The first Advent of Christ took place in the stable. The Second Advent, the second coming of Christ, the arrival and emergence of the Kingdom of God, is still to come. This is the Advent we must be truly ready for, the one which requires us to slow down and pay close attention. There will be signs that heaven is beginning to break through into creation. Some will be struck with fear and trembling when it happens. But not us. Because our redemption is drawing near, Jesus tells us. We will be ready to stand up and raise our heads, rejoicing at its coming.

For the next four weeks, the church invites her members to a special season of readiness. Not the readiness that leaves us scrambling to get all the shopping done, or feeling nervous that we are the last house on the street to hang our lights and pick out our tree. Not the readiness that has us hunched over end-of-year reports and papers and obsessing over challenges and goals and projects that must all be completed before we can take a breath and spend time with our loved ones for a few days. Not the readiness that is really anxiety, competitiveness, consumerism. Advent is an invitation to take a step back from all that. “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life,” Jesus says. Unburden yourselves, my friends. Unburden your hearts that they may not be weighed down with distractions and worries. The world around us is offering us infinite opportunities to numb ourselves at this time of year, to deaden the childlike wonder and joyful anticipation that build in our hearts with every newly lit candle on the Advent wreath. Don’t let yourself be caught in that trap. Don’t be caught unaware. Be alert to the anticipation of Advent. Not as a means to an end, or a deadline, but as the season of careful intention our ancestors meant it to be. Christmas can wait. So can we.