Scripture Text:
Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37
Sermon:
We live in a time when it seems as if the world is falling apart. From the worldwide politics and commerce that influence the lives of millions, to the small-scale dramas of our cities and towns and families, if you’re paying attention you’ll notice that things often appear barely under control. Our political system seems to have very nearly come to a point when no progress whatsoever can be made from either party. The climate systems which warm and cool us seem about to come entirely unhinged, threatening to flood low-lying people and places around the globe. Economic inequalities have grown far beyond reason, and our nation’s markets are plagued by corruption, seemingly devoid of any accountability- and voices of dissent are hushed by mockery and violence.
The institutional forms of religion that have nurtured and guided us through our life’s pilgrimage of faith are struggling as fewer and fewer people, and especially younger people, seem to find what we have to offer relevant or meaningful. We’re ten years into the longest war in our nation’s history, and our nation’s general public seems more apathetic and disengaged than ever. For several years now every Black Friday shopping day seems to include a story or two of death, trampling, and violence in the name of grabbing the hot gift item. In our own local community, yet another NIU student has died in a senseless shooting just last week near campus.
As if these things weren’t dreadful enough, we’re hurtling into the wintertime when darkness and cold surround us, when sunlight and warmth are scarce, when the urge to sleep the days away can become overwhelming, when many people suffer from a sense of depression throughout the winter.
We’re approaching what popular song and sentiment call “the most wonderful time of the year,” but if we are honest with ourselves, there is plenty in the world, both far away and close at home, that is not the most wonderful anything. And as we prepare for Christmas, and for our remembrance and celebration of God coming into the world to be one of us human beings, then it is vital to remember that the Christmas story happened in a world like ours- a lonely, broken, world overshadowed by dark forces.
It is vital to have this season of Advent before we get to the festivities. When we look at the misery of our world, our culture’s demands of happiness and festivity can cause a case of cognitive dissonance. The partying and the sorrow don’t add up. And the voices of Advent are honest about that- we’re in desperate need of a God who will tear open the heavens and come down. The voices of Advent are honest that many of us feel like the fullness of God’s glory is hidden away, like the things we value are fading like dying leaves and blowing away in the wind. The voices of Advent give words to our anxieties and our yearning for God’s face to shine upon us and save us, giving us new life so that we may joyfully call on God’s name again. These voices are the authors of scripture- the prophets like Isaiah, and Saint John the Baptist, the Apostles and Evangelists like Saint Paul and Saint Mark, and the Blessed Virgin Mary. They lived in times past, but their world seemed just as desperately far from the promises of God as ours can appear to be today.
Last night as I wrote this sermon, I joked with Carly and her parents, “ugh, this is going to be my most depressing sermon ever.” Indeed- if the world really is this full of misery and alienation, what reason can there possibly be to celebrate? But the fact of the matter is, we need to ask the opposite question: in the midst of despair, how can we possibly dare not to celebrate?
For see- cloaked in the darkness of this time is a promise. Saint Paul knew and told his friends the Corinthians that there is a promise: that for the time being we will be strengthened to bear these hardships so that we may be blameless on the day when our Lord Jesus is revealed. Mark knew there was a promise that Jesus had spoken of- that in time yet to come, Jesus himself, the Son of Man, the human one who was God, would come in power and glory to gather his people from every place on earth. Even Isaiah the gloomy prophet knew it- that God would mold us to be his own like a potter shapes clay- that God would put our past sins to rest and call us his own people again.
We have to celebrate, because our celebration proclaims that there is more to the world than what we can see with our own eyes and hear with our own ears. We have to know- we have to tell- we have to share that though we are surrounded by terror and sadness, there is more in store. The hope of the world hope is greater than the despair of the masses. The hope of the world is coming- and we’ve got to hold on.
So take hold- fasten yourselves to the hope of Jesus Christ who was, and is, and is to come. We do have to start here in the depths, because the things we await mean nothing particularly special if they don’t reach even down to these pits of despair. But hold on: keep awake, and keep waiting- the promise is drawing near, in mystery and awe.