The church year turns to another beginning, another new
year, filled with hope, expectation, anticipation of better relationships
between people, and even countries. Advent invites us to turn. There is a
Caribou coffee tag line - life is short, stay awake! I feel that way about
Advent, Advent is short, stay awake, stay alert, or you'll miss it.
Indeed, our culture has already missed it. Christmas
carols, christmas trees, christmas decorations. Christmas is all around us, and
today I encourage you, at least in this sacred space, to make room for Advent.
In the cacophony of Christmas, make room for quiet. In the
race to Christmas, make room for waiting, preparing, anticipating. Advent really
isn't that foreign to us, it is where we live most of our lives, in the tension
of what has been and what is to be. Advent calls us to live that tension
intentionally. Rather than be lulled to sleep by the shiny balls and blinking
lights, stay awake, stay alert, listen.
Advent calls us to occupy the space between the
inconceivability of incarnation and the mystery of resurrection, the messiness
of birth and the hope of new life, the reality of brokenness and the joy of
healing. Advent calls us to be fully present in each event and activity, and to
be fully present with each person. Advent calls us not to walk through this
time with indifference, but to shine the light of love and hope in all places
and at all times. Advent calls us to sit with the other, to look into the eye
of the other, and to listen, not to talk.
Advent calls us to stand next to the one that you really
cannot stand, the one you really disagree with, and look toward love and hope
together.
This is the very darkest time of the year. We look for
light, that's why we hang twinkly lights on everything, that's why we light
candles. But here, in the church, we don't light them all, not yet, we light
them one at a time, watching the light build, preparing for the light that is
Jesus to be fully blazing.
And, on this first day of Advent this year, and next week
as well, we have before us the gospel of Mark. This is a story of assurance. We
know that God is love, and love drives out darkness and fear. And, some of these passages we read during
Advent may be pretty scary reading. This chapter in Mark actually begins with
the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. It continues with images of war,
earthquake, and famine, of family members betraying one another, of great
suffering. But Mark says very clearly and emphatically that these things are
not predictions of doom in the distant future. The truly frightening stuff
described in this chapter is not a prediction to frighten future generations, but
for Mark’s readers they are words of comfort in
a generation that used this vivid kind of language, the language of sky powers
and sky beings mixed with literal retellings of the kinds of betrayal and
threats facing members of Jesus' community, to describe what they’d already seen brothers and sisters
in Christ going through. Jesus went around calling women and slaves and tax
collectors to follow him, and leaving out any hint that they need to get
someone else’s
permission to do so. His followers after the resurrection called him lord or
master, and that’s
not the kind of thing you can say, let alone a way of life you can live without
getting into trouble, and so Jesus' followers were dragged before local
authorities and punished. That is what we hear in Mark.
And it is the Good News, the Incarnation, that is spoken
into that fearful time, as it is the Good News and the Incarnation that is
spoken into the fear of our time. It is god-in-our-midst that is hope and
promise. It is into all of this that Mark cries stay awake! Stay awake!
So maybe that is what staying awake during Advent can be
all about. Maybe in the midst of the cacophony of Christmas, in the quiet we
can hear the voice of Good News.
When the herald of consumerism speaks more loudly than does
the angel Gabriel we need to stay awake to hear the announcement that a child
will be born and that the world is about to turn.
When the blast of trumpets announcing sale after sale drowns
out the voice singing “my soul cries out with a joyful shout
that the God of my heart is great, and my spirit sings of the wondrous things that
you bring to the ones who wait” we need to be
quiet to hear the music.
Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the beat of our own
heart, and the beat of God's heart within us, the beat that says there is
nothing you can do that will make me turn my love from you.
Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the love of Jesus
moving in our blood, giving nourishment to our bodies, our minds, and our
hearts.
Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the movement of the
Spirit, enlivening us with new birth, connecting us to one another, connecting
us to the ones who have not yet said yes to the Good News of Jesus, connecting
us to all those who are broken and hurting on this most amazing day, at the
beginning of this, most amazing season.
Today we light the first candle of Advent. We watch its
quiet light flicker in the darkness, anticipating the light and the love and
the hope of Jesus.
How will you make room in your busy life this Advent,
to hear the word of Love?
How will you make room in your busy life this Advent,
to share the Light of Jesus?
How will you make room in your busy life this Advent,
to speak love and hope into fear and darkness?
How will you make room in your busy life this Advent
to proclaim the love that wins?
No comments:
Post a Comment