Reflections on the Daily Gospel for Advent, 2009

Luke 21:5-19
When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down." They asked him, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" And he said, "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and, 'The time is near!' Do not go after them. "When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately."

Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven. "But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

Tummies still pleasantly full, and our minds quietly hazed by the turkey coma, we are jolted to attention as the season of Advent begins. The message is certainly not the one that is captured in the small mountain of department store flyers that fill out the Sunday morning newspaper. It’s difficult to imagine what we might want with a new GPS, cologne gift sets, golf clubs and tennis rackets if earthquakes, famines and plagues are our lot for the near future. Emergency rations, stockpiles of fresh drinking water, and lots of batteries, perhaps. You might make a justification for soft, snuggly stuffed animals to help you make it through long nights of war and insurrection, but Wii’s, if the story is to be believed, are expendable at best.

We know that a part of what we read between the lines of this Gospel for our first furtive steps into the season is the real-life experience of that first century church who took the stories and images from the life of Jesus and fashioned them into a narrative. Times did get terrifying for the generation to follow the One, especially after Nero fiddled away an empire and pacifist Christians seemed a likely patsy for the fall, but that was a long time ago, and Constantine’s sword was fairly effective in forging an unholy alliance that would grow the church into something resembling the first Multinational corporation before too many centuries had passed. From time to time it has been dangerous to claim the faith, and even in the world we share there are corners where a cross around your neck could lead to significant challenges, but if we’re being real, the dreadful portents and great signs that may unfold in the heavens are far more harbingers of the fragile threads of secular promises lost than any reflection of something requiring a defense of our faith. For most of us, believing in Jesus is at worse a quaint reflection of lost innocence. We’ll die of old age long before we might face a sword of religious persecution.

So what to make of it all? I do not pray for any sort of Holy War, but I do wonder if we need to ponder, at least for a few moments, the possibility that the progress of faith is made less on roads of tinsel and bright packages, and more precisely at those moments when we have the most to lose. As I write this, the nation waits for our new President to announce his strategy in the continuing debacle of Iraq, and pundits on both sides are lining up to assure that no matter what he offers will be rejected out of hand. The notion that we might need more American lives put on the line is about as repugnant a thought as you might allow to tarnish your Christmas stars, but it is difficult to deny that the hole we’ve dug for ourselves will demand some filling before we can step out with any kind of dignity. Could it be that the peace we long for will not come in a slow steady arc of “every day in every way we’re getting better and better”? could it be that the princely peace we long for will require loss, and sacrifice, and long suffering?

We live in an age of quick fixes, and so much of the teaching of this One whose birth we await has been burnished and dissected to fit the longing of our hearts for stories that come to a happy ending within an hour’s time, with commercials included. The Gospel reminds us that the coming of the Lord will indeed threaten the lords and ladies who cling to illusions of power in a world gone mad. There is much in this world that longs for salvation that will have to be set aside, wrapped and burned, melted and refashioned if it is to bear the true image of this One who is to come. It will be a fight to bring this child into the world, and once born, it will be a real battle if he is to emerge victorious, which is to say, “crucified, dead, and buried.”

This first Sunday of Advent we are advised that the road before us will demand more of us than we might actually be ready to give. There’s no gentle encouragement in Jesus’ tone—no soothing of our furrowed brow, no quiet whisper in our ear…”Don’t worry, it all looks frightful but cling to me and all will be well”…”You will be hated because of my name!” We do not make the journey like the winning Olympian, wrapped in his flag while the adoring crowd cheers. We make this journey because it is more true than any of the other convenient and comfortable lies we might otherwise embrace. We make this trip because the One who has gone before us has told us it is the only way. “If any would come after me let them deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)

Gracious God, we come to this season with visions of sugar plums, voices tuned to Joy, Peace, and Love. We know this is where you lead, but we pray that we might see your promised land where it truly lies, on the far side of our fears and hopes, through trial and terror, beyond, but not apart from the suffering of this world you love and long to save. Still our hearts, and slow our steps, that in the season that stretches out before us we might begin not only to see the One who Comes, but our own deep need for his touch, heart to heart, by the redemption of your precious blood. Amen.