Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Watching and Waiting -- First Sunday of Advent

Mark 13:24-37
December 3, 2017

            I don’t do needlepoint or embroider or cross stitch, but if I did, I think I would create a sampler that I would frame and put in a prominent place in my home. On that sampler would be this simple phrase,
            “Life is too short …”
            I realize that this is the beginning of the cliché, “life is too short to hold a grudge.” But a cliché becomes that because it is based on a truth. And isn’t it true that life is too short to hold a grudge? If there is something good about growing older – actually, there are a lot of good things about growing older – it is that I’ve realized a little bit more just how short life actually is. The reason my sampler would only showcase the words, “life is too short,” and not fill in the rest of the sentence is because life is too short for so many things. So here is a short – pun intended – list of some of the things life is too short for.
            Life is too short to hold a grudge.
            Life is too short to be angry or worried or stressed all the time.
            Life is too short to be paralyzed by fear and anxiety.
            Life is just too short to not do those things that you’ve always wanted to do.
            Life is too short not to be with the people you love most.
            Please know that I do not live up to my list. There are so many examples of how this is true and so little time, but here is one. My one creative expression is writing, and I have been trying to write a book since I was about 10. I have countless beginnings of books, yet no finished ones. Why? Because I get paralyzed by my fear that it just won’t be good enough. Well, guess what? Life is too short, so write the book already! Who cares if it isn’t the Great American Novel? Write it anyway, because life is too short not to do what you’ve always dreamed of doing.
            Life is too short. In a roundabout, indirect way, that seems to be what this passage from Mark is about. That seems a strange thing to say, considering the fact that this passage is known as a “little apocalypse.” From the beginning of chapter 13 to the end, Jesus was telling the disciples about what would come. In the beginning verses, he told the disciples about the destruction of the temple. Then he warned James, John and Andrew about being led astray; about not being alarmed when they hear of wars and rumors of wars. Jesus told them that there will be earthquakes and famines, but this would be just the beginning of the “birth pangs.”
            Jesus told them of the great tribulation, of false messiahs and false prophets. Those snake oil salesmen will try to fool the people with signs and omens, but Jesus warned them to be alert.
            Then we come to our verses. Jesus told them of signs in the heavens.
            “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”
            It sounds like something out of a movie. In fact, many a movie has been made about the end of the world. The latest special effects have been employed to show destruction and annihilation, whether that annihilation comes from aliens or nuclear war or from the prophecies of the end times finally coming to fruition. In the end, the end will be big and loud and devastating.
            At first it would seem that the apocalypse described here goes right along with that. When Jesus comes again, when the Son of Man returns, it is going to be one blockbuster of an ending. But as one of my colleagues wrote, God has a funny way of bringing beginnings from endings and endings from beginnings. One seems to always lead into the other.
            Jesus finished these words of warning with an illustration about watchfulness. Keep alert. The only who knows when any of these things will happen, when this time of ending and new beginning will occur is the Father. So keep alert. Think about a master who goes on a trip and leaves his slaves in charge of the house. They do not know when the master will return, so they must continue to do their work as though the master will arrive at any minute. There is no room, and there is no time for dozing off. You have to keep awake.
            Watch. Wait. Keep awake. Jesus wanted the disciples to understand the importance and the power of staying awake. He wanted them to really get just how vital it was to stay awake, because just a short time after this they would wait in the garden with him, and they would not stay awake.
            But it seems to me that Jesus wanted the disciples to understand that the importance of staying awake was more than just not being asleep. When Phoebe was little, she would announce that she was awake not by calling out, “I’m awake, Mommy.” Instead, she would say, “I’m not sleeping anymore!”
            But not sleeping and being awake, really awake, may be two different things. The problem with the way we interpret apocalyptic texts such as this one is that we think they exhort us to only consider the future. How will Jesus come? When will Jesus come? And what will Jesus’ coming mean for us?
            However, maybe apocalyptic texts are really calling us to wake up to the present; to see life as we are living it, to recognize just how truly short life is. Instead of focusing on this dramatic ending that may or may not be just around the corner, perhaps we should be focusing on the here and the now. Jesus told the disciples to stay awake, and I suspect that we are being called not only to stay awake, but to wake up.
            Maybe the point of this text on this day, this first Sunday of Advent, is not just about pointing us toward the ending or reminding us of the beginning, but to open our eyes to the right now, to this moment, to this beautiful, irreplaceable moment.
            In Thornton Wilder's play, “Our Town,” there is an incredible scene toward the end of the play when one of the main characters, Emily, who has died, discovers that she can revisit a day in her life. Through the help of the Stage Manager, she chooses one day to return to, thinking that she can just step back into who she was as a young girl in her home with her family. But she cannot return to that moment, because she now sees everything. She sees all that she missed. She sees all that everyone misses. And she cannot reach through to the people she loves to tell them, to show them what they are incapable of seeing or not seeing.
             “Oh, Mama, look at me one minute as though you really saw me. Mama, fourteen years have gone by. I'm dead. You're a grandmother, Mama! Wally's dead, too. His appendix burst on a camping trip to North Conway. We felt just terrible about it - don't you remember? But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment we're happy. Let's really look at one another!...I can't. I can't go on. It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back -- up the hill -- to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-bye, Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover's Corners....Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking....and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths....and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it--every, every minute?”
            Wake up! In this season of preparation for the birth of a child, wake up! Wake up to the reality that God comes to us in so many, unexpected ways. God comes to us in the vulnerable, in the poor, in the helpless, in the homeless.
            Wake up! Look around you. Sisters and brothers, we are hope embodied.
We are hope embodied.
We believe God is still calling us, still working through us, still moving in our midst.
            Wake up! Watch and wait for the coming of Christ, but instead of keeping your eyes trained only on the future, turn them to the now, to the present. Wake up and see God here, in this moment, in this place, in one another. Realize life while you live it. God is coming, true, but God is here now. So be here now. Watch. Wait. Wake up.

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

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