A Sermon Preached By

Rev. Peter W. Shidemantle

SFirst Sunday of Advent, December 3, 2006

PEBBLE HILL PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

5299 Jamesville Rd., DeWitt, NY  13214

Phone:  315-446-0960     FAX:  446-0672

phillchu@twcny.rr.com     http://pebblehill.presbychurch.org

          The other odd thing is that the most hopeful season of the Christian calendar begins in the midst of darkness.  And not just the darkness of early winter, but the darkness of a war in Iraq that has gone on so long, the loud voices of division in our land.  Anxiety about the future hovers like a cloud so low sometimes you can barely see your hand in front of your face.

          And there is still another odd thing, that here on the first Sunday of the Christian year, the lectionary brings us the apocalypse.  We begin our preparations for the coming of the Christ child with a heart-stopping passage that predicts the end of the world.  Luke’s gospel would have us prepare for the birth of the Christ child with a jarring message from Jesus predicting the end of the world.  He speaks of “signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars,” of “distress among nations,” of people who will “faint from fear and foreboding.”

          This is the kind of talk that makes me want to go “duck and cover,” like those of us who went to school in the 50's and 60's and had those air raid drills where we were led out into the hall and told to sit down with our backs to the wall, duck our heads between our knees - as if this would protect us from a nuclear holocaust!  In those days the scenario of such an event, symbolized by the image of the mushroom cloud, seemed to be describing just what these texts that come around at Advent were talking about.  Other symbols have described them at other times in history - when all that seemed permanent and unchangeable was shaken to the core - surely the end was at hand!

          Of course there are those in our present day - and there are plenty around –  who practically drool over the prospect of the end of the world.  Various brands of “millenialists,” they are called, for the thousand-year reign of Christ on earth that begins with the apocalypse.  A lot of them seem to be motivated less by hope for the world (Jeremiah - “The days are surely coming when I will fulfill the promises I have made.”) than they are by the desire to see those whom they consider to be among God’s unfavored get their just desserts.  Joanna Adams tells of a friend who once saw a sign in front of a bait shop on a country road that said, “Smile!  Our God is a consuming fire!”

          How are we to respond to the promised coming of the Son of Man?  Is it good news for some and not for others?  Jesus implies that it will be a fearful thing for just about everybody, but then he says something that is somehow oddly appropriate in this odd season: “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your head, because your redemption is drawing near.”  Odd in the way that warning and comfort are brought together.

          Again, Joanna Adams also tells about her recent cataract surgery.  Several days before the procedure she was given several kinds of drops to put in her eye each day.  There were complex instructions and warnings that came with them.  And then after the procedure she was told in no uncertain terms that she was not to sleep on her back or pick up a sack of groceries, and not to dare to touch her eye.  She became convinced that if she didn’t do exactly as she was told, she would never see again.  Yet she could sense the deep care and compassion of her doctor and others on the medical staff, who called her every day for a week after the surgery, inquiring about her well-being and vision.

          Maybe this was the kind of thing Jesus had in mind when he spoke of the end of the world with his followers, and reassured them with the parable of the fig tree: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near.  So, also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”  Adams suggests that when Jesus was speaking of that day he was performing “spiritual cataract surgery” on his followers: “He wants us to be able to see things for what they are and not be fooled by the powers of this world.  He wants us to be able to take the long view so that we can see the arrival of a world marked by God’s justice and righteousness.”

          And so, you see, we Christians are bound by faith – bound by faith – not to be weighed down by the worries of this life.  We can’t be, because there is too much work to do, too much watchful readiness to maintain.  The church has been waiting for 2,000 years, and it will wait for 2,000 years more, if need be, going at the world by putting it into the shape we would want Jesus to find when he comes.  And so we create and engage in mission to the hungry, the helpless and the hopeless, among other things, because we know these are the ones who are close to the heart of Jesus.  It keeps us pretty busy.

          But we also wait in prayerful yearning, for we know that our efforts alone will not bring the world that God intends.  We wait and hope, and look, even in the darkness, for the light that the world cannot overcome. 

          A fellow clergyperson wrote about her Advent last year.  She said, “My mother died on December 11 and I flew to Seattle for the funeral, returning home a week later.  There was a huge stack of mail brought into the house by our dog sitter on the dining room table.  Obviously many Christmas cards.  So I began opening them.  The images were familiar: the star of Bethlehem, the light of a candle, the lights on Christmas trees, light pouring from a stable.  The next card took me by surprise.  It was a sympathy card!  Then a few more, mixed in with the Christmas cards.  At first I separated them into two piles.  Christmas here, sympathy there.  The message inside the next sympathy card was this: ‘Death is not the extinguishing of the light; it is putting out the lamp because the Dawn has come!’  Suddenly all the cards merged in my mind.  ‘The light has come!’  Impulsively, I merged the piles and said to my husband. . . ‘They all say the same thing.’”

          During the colonial period in American history, an eclipse of the sun caught members of a New England state legislature off guard.  In the midst of a general panic a motion was made to adjourn, but one of the legislators stood up and said, “Mr. Speaker, if it is not the end of the world and we adjourn, we shall appear to be fools.  If it is the end of the world, I choose to be found doing my duty.  I move you, sir, let candles be brought.”

          So bring on the Advent candles.  Let us be about our duty to live in love and act in hope – because the light has come – until our Lord comes again. 

* I am indebted to Joanna M. Adams, “Light the candles” in the November 28 issue of “Christian Century,” and to Robert J. Elder, “Finding our Way: A Communion Meditation” in December 2006, January 2007 issue of Lectionary Homiletics.

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