Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36
For those who are counting, we officially have 1,117 days, 13 hours, and 40 or so minutes . . . until the end of the world.
At least that's what many people are saying.
You can follow the countdown on www.december212012.com.
December 21, 2012 is the last day on the Mayan calendar, the day that more and more people are jumping on the bandwagon to say will be a day of worldwide destruction thanks to the movie, 2012, starring John Cussack and Danny Glover.
Many of us try to distance ourselves from the scare tactics this movie and websites associated with 2012 are using, but it's hard to distance ourselves as Christians from the idea of Christ's second coming. You can hear expectation of Christ's coming when we celebrate Communion: “Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.” You can hear it in the Apostles' Creed: “He will come again to judge the quick and the dead”. And you can hear it throughout scripture, and in this morning's text: “Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.”
Christ has been coming for so long that plenty of people have given up on him. Before Jesus died, he told his followers he would be right back. Believing him, they didn't make any long-range plans. Then a decade passed, then another, then another. Those who had actually known Jesus began to die off. So first, probably Mark, and then probably Matthew, and then, by anyone's guess, Luke, decided to write the stories down so that others would be able to read them. By the time Luke was up to the task, the Jewish-Roman war had been fought, Jerusalem and the Temple destroyed, and Christians were facing severe persecution.
Luke had a lot of work to do. He had to tell people who were frightened and tired of waiting that their waiting was not in vain, and they needed to remain alert. It's difficult to live each day believing that there will be no tomorrow. He also had to be wary of specifics. And the contradictory message he came up with has passed through generation to generation until it has reached us, still waiting.
Luke just doesn't lay out the specifics, in fact, scripture repeatedly warns about those who come with all the answers. Just before we tuned into this passage in Luke, Jesus had said, “Many will come saying, 'the time has come.' Do not follow them.”
Jeremiah is no different, as far as specifics go.
Writing in a city that might have looked a lot like modern-day Baghdad, or Sarajavo or Dresden in the past, lying in the midst of the ruins of warfare, Jeremiah spoke these words of non-specific hope:
“The days are coming, says the LORD, when I shall bestow my promise.”
“In those days, at that time” God says again later . . .
And then, again!, “In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.”
Jeremiah was not specific about when this Babylonian occupation would end.
But we live in a world that likes specifics, so I want to ask, “In those days?” In what days? Couldn't you be a little more specific, Jeremiah? Couldn't you let us know, Luke, when Christ is coming, so we can be prepared? We want to know when Christ will come and redeem our whole broken, violent, sin-sick world. We want to get it into our I-phones and blackberries, and plan our activities and church calendars around it. Pleeeeze?
I don't know about you, but for me there's nothing worse, when I'm already frustrated, to hear vague promises of “soon” without the specifics. It's especially bad when we're on a journey and maybe a little lost, and keep on getting misleading directions. I remember the third day of a backpacking trip when I was especially tired and it had been raining almost nonstop and our backpacks were wet and heavy. We asked some people coming the opposite direction if they knew how much further the lake that was our destination was, and they said, “Oh, you'll be there soon . . . probably just about a mile or so”. Well, the hour it took to hike that “one mile” seemed one of the longest hours of the trip. I would rather have heard nothing if they couldn't be more accurate.
We read Jeremiah and Luke during the darkest time of our year. When rain turns to snow, and puddles to ice, and the sun rises later and sets earlier. We read these texts when we could be at the mall, hearing Christmas carols celebrating the savior's birth. These are not the words we expect this time of year. They shake us up. The set us more alert.
They do what they were always meant to do. Make us alert, make us alive. Make us watchful and mindful. These texts are an invitation to grasp with our heart the final coming of Christ. For contrary to the 2012 hoopla, the Y-2K ballyhoo of a decade ago, or Hal Lindsey's The Late Great Planet Earth, we cannot comprehend the specifics with our minds, and it is just harmful to try to grasp it with our fearful and instinctual guts.
But our hearts are different. Our hearts can take it. They can ponder Christ's coming.
Imagine the setting when Jeremiah preached. Buildings were ruined. Most of the population had been hauled off. Babylonian troops patrolled desolate streets. Yet into this world, into this city, Jeremiah spoke words of hope. Promising a day when law and justice would rule. A new ruler, mysterious in name and title, “The Lord is our righteousness,” was on the way.
No one at the time could understand this hopeful word from Jeremiah. His words rang empty against all that people were experiencing. Everything around them looked dark and hopeless. It was hard to imagine anything but the violence and destruction that made up the people's days.
But it's possible, I think, in our hearts, to imagine one little girl in tattered clothes listening to Jeremiah preach from his dusty pulpit. To watch her going home to her little hovel formed by a couple of gathered pieces of wood and stones piled together that she shared with her younger sister, both of them orphaned in the war. Digging around and finding a chipped oil lamp, and lighting it, holding her sister and stroking her forehead, and repeating the words she heard that day, “Jerusalem will soon live in safety. Jerusalem will soon be saved.”
On this first Sunday of the Christian New Year, we find out without any warning at all, that Advent is not just about looking back--preparing for the birth of the sweet baby Jesus in the stable. Advent is also about looking forward--preparing for that baby's second coming as Christ the King. The shaking of the heavens and the earth.
Perhaps you can uniquely grasp the second theme of Advent this year. Your world has been shaken. Jim and Robin's world has been shaken. The Boyd family's world has been shaken. You've learned (and are learning) how quickly things can happen, how fast your world can change.
We grow numb so quickly to things. I think of how jarring the news of the Columbine shooting was to the whole nation, yet now school and workplace shootings still occur all over the country, and barely get reported. This world needs people who have been shaken out of their numbness by the ultimate calamities of life, yet emerged from them with the knowledge of faith, and awareness that those who look to the Lord will be preserved, even as they walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Perhaps you are in that place--shaken up, waiting desperately for God's light to shine in a dark situation. Perhaps you can claim in new ways the words, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly.” Perhaps you can sit by the light of the one candle of faith that we lit today, and ponder, as those little girls Jeremiah preached to pondered, the coming of the one who will finally redeem our darkened world.
Jeremiah's primary concern was not preserving Jerusalem or even restoring the Jewish state as a political entity. Instead, as people watched their way of life disappearing, his concern was to help them see hope in the ways of God regardless of the immediate realities, no matter how dire. So he spoke words of hope into a hopeless city. Luke acknowledges how hard it will be for us: “People will faint for fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken . . . but when these things take place, stand up. Raise your head, because your redemption is coming near.”
Raising our heads together is good. Jim has a halo to help him, but he has a lot more than that halo in this congregation. We all need to help one another to raise our heads, and to watch for the signs and the shaking, and to ponder it in our hearts, like Mary, this Advent. The answer is not in turning away and going our own ways of shopping, overeating, isolation, overindulging. Ann Weems has a good poem about staying together in Advent:
Too often our answer to the darkness
is not running toward Bethlehem, but running away . . .
We ought to know by now that we can't see where we're going in the dark.
Running away is rampant . . . separation is stylish: separation from mates, from friends, from self.
Run and tranquilize, don't talk about it, avoid.
Run away and join the army of those who have already run away.
When are we going to learn that Chrstimas Peace comes only when we turn and face the darkness? Only then will we be able to see the Light of the world.
This first week of Advent, my sense is that you all will be ever more dependant on that one candle. That one light that will grow stronger throughout the Advent season. God's light shines brighter and brighter as we come hear and listen to words of hope that have sustained those who have trusted God's promises in the past, even with so few specifics.
Christ is coming again, but despite all our attempts to calculate specifics, God will not come any more predictably the second time as he came the first. There's a story from the colonial era about having courage in the midst of fear as we wait. Sudden darkness caused by an eclipse of the sun caught members of a New England state legislature off guard. People thought it might be the end of the world. People panicked, and a motion was made to adjourn, but one of the legislators got 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.”
I make the same motion today: Bring on the Advent candles! We can be confident even in shaky times that our God comes. May God shake heaven, and earth, and even us up, and bring healing to our world. Amen.
(Rev. Laurel Nelson most recently served as the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Wyoming NY. She is presently working with her husband to create ministry focusing on young adults. )
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