By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, RectorThe Gospel lesson presents strange and disturbing images. Jesus mentions "signs in the sun, moon and stars, distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and waves. People fainting from fear and foreboding, the powers of the heavens shaken.
This reading is in the "apocalyptic style" and describes the end of the world in a language of images and in a literary genre common to that era. The style describes a world turned upside down, a world in pain, confusion and turmoil. A world marked by violence. A world looking for God.
It’s not such an unusual genre. One of the current box office hits is a movie called 2012, about the end of the world as foretold in an ancient Mayan prophecy. Unlike our scriptures, the Mayans apparently are quite explicit about the date the world will end, and apparently for two and a half hours the characters arrange deck chairs on the global Titanic.
People of all generations and cultures have predicted the end of the world in the languages of their religions and sciences. And after a while I begin to wonder if it’s fear of this possibility or a sad hope. Sometimes what we say we fear the most is a veiled way of expressing what we really hope for.
Apocalyptic stories in the scriptures are accompanied by warnings or predictions of wars, famines and large scale suffering. Truthfully, the world has never been without these things. The level of suffering is so great and the solutions seem so colossal and out of reach that in frustration, the only option may seem for God to destroy the world and start again. That’s the basic story line of Noah’s Ark and the apocalyptic stories are offshoots of that one.
But not all of the stories end in total destruction. Some of the stories offer hope and redemption. In our first lesson, Jeremiah wrote of hope. Jeremiah was a prophet who wrote during a period of Israel’s history in which the leading citizens of the country had been captured by the Babylonians and led away to be relocated hundreds of miles away leaving Jerusalem in a heap of ruin. Jeremiah watched the world he knew reduced to rubble in Apocalyptic proportion and still he wrote faithfully in the promise of God to restore them. He began to write of the rise of a messiah, another king in the line of David who would emerge and lead them in a new age of righteousness and justice. This messiah became the hope of a nation and each generation looked for him to be revealed.
When Jesus came, those who met him were uncertain at first. Some came to believe, others didn’t. He didn’t act the way they were taught to expect. He didn’t raise an army or overthrow the occupying forces. Rather, he talked of love and forgiveness, not war or vengeance. It’s not what they expected, but it was compelling never the less. Many followed and their world was also turned upside down when he was crucified. And like the prophets of old he pointed to the future when another would come. But unlike the prophets before him, he told them it would be he who would return.
The world has spun up and down ever since. Each generation watching the world it knew change, totter, fall, and from its ashes another rise. So many of these generations remember the words of Jesus saying to look at the clouds for his return. Christians today also look to the sky for Jesus to return, but in ways we don’t agree on. In our Creed we say we believe he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end. This belief places us in the category of an Advent people. A people of expectation. We are marked as followers of Christ who believe that though the earth and it’s powers rise and fall, God is constant and comes to restore God’s people.
We sometimes fall into the same trap that some biblical characters fell into. We allow our expectations and hope determine how we believe God will appear. In so doing, we run the risk of missing God altogether.
The season of Advent serves as a reminder that God came to earth in the person of Jesus; that God has come and that God will come again and again and again to save us from ourselves, for the sole reason of love. The prophets and writers continually draw our attention to this hope. We turn to our traditions for inspiration and grounding as we live in a world that changes and challenges us.
Hope is fragile in the wake of economic crisis, and war, and senseless cruelty. Our literature and entertainment options often suggest blowing it all up, as though expressing the common frustration of a weary public. But among the voices in the Bible expressing hope, Jesus suggests looking at the fig tree and draws a lesson of hope in it. Whether the fig tree or any tree, we see the buds and know that summer is near.
Whenever we give food to the hungry, or offer shelter to the homeless, or march and stand up for justice and the intrinsic value of God’s people we are seeing the buds on a tree of life that makes the promise of God closer.
It’s not the world we need to destroy, but the evil in it. The world is an incredibly beautiful place and so many people are truly wonderful and loving. God so loved the world that he became human to show us the way of grace and love. It’s very simple. It’s not always easy, but it starts with us living lives that reflect God’s love and hope.
Jesus told his disciples another curious thing. He said, "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away." The words he embodied were love, justice and peace. Regardless of what else happens, these words remain and remain true. As people of Advent the truth of these words in the past, helps us be open to their truth in the future.
May our worship and prayers make us strong to face the challenges of hope. May the armor of light St. Paul talks about and which we used in our opening collect shield us from the frustrations of the worlds’ pain and inspire us to be healers. And even in the worst of life’s events may we see the hopeful buds of God’s grace creating new life and possibilities. Amen.
©2009 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ
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