In Those Days -- First Sunday of Advent

 

Mark 13:24-37

November 29, 2020

            On Thanksgiving, we were reminiscing about all sorts of things. Besides eating too much, reminiscing is what you do on a holiday like Thanksgiving. I told the story about the first time my parents left me alone in the house when they went on a trip. My dad was adamant that I would not stay alone until I was 18. I turned 18 in October. They went to Minnesota the next summer. That meant I had at least 8 months to plan the party.

            Now before you think I’m completely brazen, you need to know that my parents knew I was having a party before they’d even packed their bags. I told them. I might have said,

“I think I’m going to have a few friends in while you’re gone.”

I may not have clarified that a few meant 30 plus. But I doubt that my parents were under the illusion that I was going to have a small, quiet dinner party either. They were a little hipper than I gave them credit for. 

            As they drove away, my dad said,

            “Just don’t burn the house down.”

            I didn’t. But it was a great party.

            In fact, the house was spotless when they came home. But I was helped with this because I knew when my parents were coming home. I was prepared. I was ready. I had friends who weren’t so lucky. One friend of mine had parents who would leave her in the house alone while they went out-of-town, but they would never tell her exactly when they were coming back. They might go for a couple of days. They might leave for a week. Not telling her was supposedly a way to prevent wild parties and a trashed house. I spent a weekend with her when her parents were out of town and we cleaned everyday just in case her mom and dad pulled in unexpectedly.

 Mark 13 says that the master of the house is a lot more like my friend’s parents than mine. No one knows when he’s going to return from his journey, so stay awake. Do not drift off.  Watch. Stay conscious. Stay awake. For the master could return at any moment. No one knows.

Warnings to stay awake. Stars falling. A darkened sun and moon. Heavenly powers shaken up.  Not exactly images we normally picture at the beginning of Advent. There’s no babe lying in a manger for Mark. No cattle lowing, no shepherds being led to the child by a host of heavenly messengers. 

Instead on this first Sunday of Advent, we have what is known by Biblical scholars as Mark’s little apocalypse. This chapter begins with Jesus’ predictions about the destruction of the temple. Then Jesus and a few of the disciples – Peter, James, John and Andrew – retreat to the Mount of Olives, look out over the temple and discuss the end times.

The disciples question Jesus.

“Tell us, when will this be; and what will be the signs that all these things are about to be accomplished?”

Jesus tells them about many signs. False prophets and false messiahs. Beware those who come in his name, making claims in his name, yet in reality lead the faithful astray. Wars, nation rising up against nation. Earthquakes, famines, natural disasters.  Don’t be alarmed, these are the beginning of the birth pangs.

There will be suffering, Jesus warns them. The disciples will be forced to testify to the good news in front of councils and governments. But don’t worry, he reassures them, the Holy Spirit will speak through them. And again, there will be false prophets and false messiahs pointing the people in the wrong direction. Leading the elect astray. So, wake up! Stay awake! 

Then we come to our verses. When the end times truly arrive, cosmic signs will fill the sky. Stars, sun, moon. Then Jesus, the Son of Man, will come surrounded by clouds in his power and glory. Angels will be sent to bring the elect from every corner of heaven and earth. All this will happen in God’s time. Not even the angels or the Son himself know when the end will come.  Only God the father, and he is not telling. So, stay awake! Remain on watch, wait open-eyed for the master’s return. Because no one knows when he will come.

Apocalyptic literature and predictions about the end times, such as what is found in Daniel, the book of Revelation and this chapter in Mark, usually come out of a community that is oppressed and under siege by political, religious or military leaders. The situation in the community seems so utterly dire and desperate that their only hope is in divine intervention. No mortal means can end their suffering. Only action from God and God alone. Then their suffering will be justified. A new world will be issued in.

The word in Greek that gives us our word Apocalypse does not refer to the end of the world. When Jesus speaks about end times, he is not talking about the earth blowing up on God’s orders with nothing remaining. Apocalypse means an unveiling, a revealing. The end times that Jesus refers to is when God will be fully revealed, completely unveiled. They will see God. And when you are living in a crisis moment, when you are living with catastrophe all around you, what more do you want than to see God; to see God revealed and unveiled? What more do we want than to know that God is right here with us? Look, there is God! Can we see God? Can we finally see Him?

Can we finally see God?

Do you remember about twenty years ago at the beginning of 2020? At New Year’s I saw so many pictures of folks dressed up for Roaring 20’s parties. They were all so cute and fun. But amid all the revelry, we were hearing news stories about this strange new virus that was sweeping across Asia. It sounded concerning but it was 2020! A new decade! A new start! Whoo hoo! Then in March the world changed. Everything began to be cancelled or shut down. We cancelled in-person church services and switched without really knowing what we were doing to livestream. I say “we.” I mean “me.”

I remember dreaming about the huge party we would have when we could finally return to in-person worship. Easter didn’t happen, but Pentecost? Surely by Pentecost we would be able to come together fully, to hug and sing at the top of our lungs and joyfully celebrate the birth of the church grateful for this new life we would now have together …

Yet here we are. In person for some of us, livestream for others. We wear our masks and douse our hands in sanitizer and socially distance ourselves. When the Lord’s Supper happens next week, we will partake with our individual pack of juice and wafer. And while worship does not have to be a blow out extravaganza to be worship, there are days when the quieter nature of our worship makes me long for the singing-at-the-top-of-our-lungs worship we once shared.

And if apocalypse has its etymological roots in a word that means to unveil or reveal, then what has this pandemic revealed? In our country it has revealed disparity and inequity in resources and access. It has unveiled the isms, particularly our original sin of racism, that lurk and fester underneath the surface. It has revealed the depths of how kind and giving humans can be to one another. And it has unveiled how we can also be quite the opposite. Ultimately, the pandemic has revealed that we humans are more vulnerable and frailer than we like to believe. To quote Dr. Burger, “a relatively simple virus has brought us, humanity, a complex system, to its knees.”

Please know I am not trying to bring everybody down. I know that we all need the joy that this holiday season can bring – we need joy more than we ever have before. But in the church calendar, this is our New Year. The first Sunday of Advent is the first Sunday of the church year, and this first season is our time of waiting. But what are we waiting for? Are we waiting for Advent to be over so we can hurry up and celebrate Christmas? Or are we waiting for God to be revealed; to be unveiled once more?

And how has God chosen to reveal God’s self? In the most vulnerable way possible. God came into this world in the way of all creatures – as a baby. When that baby had grown into manhood, how did God choose to reveal God’s full glory and new life and everything? Through war and violent overthrow? No. Through death, but not just a natural dying in one’s sleep, but death on a cross. In those days, God revealed himself to the world through the birth of a baby, and through that grown up baby going to the cross. In these days, God meets us in our vulnerability with his own vulnerability. God meets us, not with a warrior’s strength but with a divine weakness. God meets us, not with oppressive power but with holy vulnerability.

So, what are we waiting for? Are we waiting for celebration? Are we waiting for the end? Or does Advent remind us that we are waiting to see God anew? Does Advent remind us that what we wait for is not the end of the world, but the end of the world as we know it, and the beginning of the world that God created from the beginning?

And what this day reminds us of is that we wait with hope. The crisis and the catastrophes all around us cannot diminish our hope. Because our hope does not lie in what we do or do not accomplish. Our hope does not lie in the world that we can make. Our hope lies in what God has done, and what God is doing, and what God will do. We wait and we watch with hope because God is revealing himself to us, everyday, every hour, every minute, so in these days we wait with hope.

Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.” Amen.