May God’s words alone be spoken, may God’s words alone be heard. Amen.

Well, isn’t that a cheery gospel. “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.” And that was just the epilog. Remember I have often talked about listening carefully to the text. Jesus starts this delightful pronouncement with “”In those days, after that suffering…” So…the sun going dark and stars falling wasn’t really the worst of it?

What a welcome into this season of Advent, right? This gospel passage is often referred to as the mini-Apocalypse of Mark, but it can be hard for most folks to think about such destruction, chaos, and despair at this time of year – well, unless we are talking about the insanity of our family gatherings, but let’s not go there. See, most have already made the move from Thanksgiving to Christmas. We see it in the parade, right – first the balloons and thanksgiving floats and then…Santa. So the expectation is that of joy, not horror.

While there are people who find this time of year to be anything but joyful for a whole lot of reasons, this particular year thanksgiving and the start of Advent has been both filled with thanksgiving and with anger and sorrow for most of the nation – and NO, not because the in-laws came over. Although, I have to say that when I was in Weight Watchers several years ago, they were trying get us all prepped for the big Thanksgiving feast. And as we carefully planned out our food for the day and their point values (a way for Weight Watcher participants to measure their caloric intake), I raised my hand and asked “How many points in a an entire bottle of wine? My in-laws are coming over.” And as I looked around the room, others were raising their hands and asking “or a bottle of bourbon, or scotch, or…” For many – Thanksgiving can be an annual mini-apocalypse.

But what I am talking about this week is the pain of the nation in the wake of all that has happened in Ferguson, Missouri, Cleveland, Brooklyn, and so many other places. Advent begins with a mini-Apocalyse, but we are in our own Apocalypse – of hate, violence, and distrust.

We are a divided people, in our towns, in the cities, in the nation and in the world. We kill one another – black and white, gay and straight, student and student, Palestinian and Israeli, and on and on and on.

As the Psalmist implores today – “Restore us, O God of hosts; show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.”

This is a world divided by race, gender, class, sexual orientation, political agendas, and religion. If ever restoration was needed, it is now. When will it stop? When will the violence cease? When will it be that a black person can walk in any neighborhood without fear, or a woman can walk anywhere at night, or a gay or transgendered person do the same?

When will violence in the name of religion, or violence in our schools, or violence for the sake of territorial claims become a thing of the past? When will war be a thing of the past? Because we cannot continue to dwell in hate, as it will destroy us. The advice columnist, Ann Landers once said, “Hate is like acid. It can damage the vessel in which it is stored as well as destroy the object on which it is poured.”[1]

“Restore us, O God of hosts; show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.”

We need restoration – restoration of hope. And Advent is a gateway to that for us – and for the world. In the gospel, Jesus tells us to “keep awake” – to be ready for this destruction, and the new day that follows. “What if we translated or re-languaged “keep awake” as “be present. Live in the moment.”[2] – then we couldn’t begin to frame the person we see – the other – in our own way, but would need to stay with them – unframed, true, and without bias. Perhaps then, we would see them for who they truly are – children of God.

This darkness, this mini-Apocaplyse of our own making – must stop! And it can only end when we stop pointing fingers – we can only heal and be restored when we begin to see everyone, most especially the other, as a child of God – when a conservative can look at a liberal and see Christ, when a Democrat can look at a Republican and see Christ, when a white police officer and a young black man can look at one another and see Christ, when children will see that in each other, when Jew and Muslim and Christian can see that all are created in the image of God.

The restoration and hope that we seek comes from something that Advent brings to our hearts and minds – that is the incarnation of God – Emmanel – God with us…not only then, but now – here – in the present – in the midst of our darkness and despair. That incarnation, that light, is the light that overcomes darkness, the life that overcomes death.

“Restore us, O God of hosts; show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.”

God has shown the light of her countenance – the light that was, is and is to come – the light that we anticipate in Advent – and in it, through it – we are saved, and hope is offered this world.

In Advent we await the coming of Christ – the light of the world- into our hearts. Are you ready for that light? If we just could all be ready, we would be in a state that would open us up to the other – and then all could be warmed in the light of love that would overtake the world.

And here is the key to making that happen – each of you.

Like those candles we light on Christmas Eve, as a people of the light we are called to share that in the world – a world filled with the darkness of hate, violence, poverty, and despair. We may not think our little light is enough, but as we spread it – one light at a time – one kind word, one fight for justice, one act of kindness – that light spreads far and wide.

See, the thing is – our light is enough because it is always not our light alone – Christ is with us – his light shines in ours. While Advent is a time when we prepare for Christ, that is not a one time event. God is continually present in our lives. Advent is about preparing for a particular event of the birth of Jesus, but it is also about preparing for the continual birth of Christ in our hearts, minds, and souls. Through the year we celebrate Advent again and again.  This is because Christ comes to us again and again. It is a time to remember that God is always present with us – and with God – there is no darkness, no hate, no despair that cannot be overcome. Because with God, hope is always present.

Restore us, O God of hosts; show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.”

The light of God’s countenance was never gone from us – we just couldn’t see it for all the stuff we put in the way. But it is there, nonetheless, and it is the hope of the world. Christ “is now at the very door of our dark nights, at the gates of our depression.  It is a paradox that our very darkness is a sign of hope.” Christ is a symbol that when it is darkest, God is most near – and hope is possible. And if there is anything we need now it is hope. Hope changes things. Hope is transformative. And lack of it – so very destructive.

I want to share with you two stories. The first is about a town.

“[There was a little town named Flagstaff in Maine. The town was to be flooded, as part of a large lake for which a dam was being built. In the months before it was to be flooded, all improvements and repairs in the whole town were stopped. What was the use of painting a house if it were to be covered with water in six months? Why repair anything when the whole village was to be wiped out? So, week by week, the whole town became more and more bedraggled, more gone to seed, more [sad and fragile]….”Where there is no faith in the future, there is no power in the present.””

And the second story is about a hospital visit.

“A school system in a large city had a program to help children keep up with their school work during stays in the city’s hospitals. One day a teacher who was assigned to the program received a routine call asking her to visit a particular child. She took the child’s name and room number and talked briefly with the child’s regular class teacher. “We’re studying nouns and adverbs in his class now,” the regular teacher said, “and I’d be grateful if you could help him understand them so he doesn’t fall too far behind.”

The hospital program teacher went to see the boy that afternoon. No one had mentioned to her that the boy had been badly burned and was in great pain. Upset at the sight of the boy, she stammered as she told him, “I’ve been sent by your school to help you with nouns and adverbs.” When she left she felt she hadn’t accomplished much.

But the next day, a nurse asked her, “What did you do to that boy?” The teacher felt she must have done something wrong and began to apologize. “No, no,” said the nurse. “You don’t know what I mean. We’ve been worried about that little boy, but ever since yesterday, his whole attitude has changed. He’s fighting back, responding to treatment. It’s as though he’s decided to live.”

Two weeks later the boy explained that he had completely given up hope until the teacher arrived. Everything changed when he came to a simple realization. He expressed it this way: “They wouldn’t send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a dying boy, would they?”

Hope changes everything.

In Christ, the incarnation of God – God present with us – Emmanuel – we are given hope. Hope that is powerful. Hope that is transformational. Hope that is always available to us – we need only open our hearts to it. Hope that can save – not only us, but the world.

So in Advent, let us prepare to welcome in again the light of Christ into this world darkened by human hate, violence, oppression, and despair. Let us prepare to be beacons of hope for a world who needs it so very much. If we can do that – there is nothing that can stop us.

Back in Epiphany, I shared with you these words by the Most Rev. Desmond Tutu, retired Archbishop of South Africa, and a wonderful leader in our Anglican Communion, and if they were ever needed, it is now:

“All over this magnificent world God calls us to extend [the] kingdom of shalom-peace and wholeness — of justice, of goodness, of compassion, of caring, of sharing, of laughter, of joy, of reconciliation. God is transfiguring the world right this very moment through us because God believes in us and because God loves us. What can separate us from the love of God? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And as we share God’s love with our brothers and sisters, God’s other children, there is no tyrant who can resist us, no opposition that cannot be ended, no hunger that cannot be fed, no wound that cannot be healed, no hatred that cannot be turned into love, no dream that cannot be fulfilled.”

The powerful truth is this: Advent heralds something present in our lives every day – God is with us, in us, and all around us. That love – that all encompassing powerful love – is ours, and we are called to share it with the world. When we do that, when we share what is freely ours – what is always there for us as children of God – when we share this with others who, for the darkness in their lives cannot or will not see it – transformation is not only possible – it is inevitable!

The light and hope of Christ is coming – it is here – and it will always be! And because of that, there really is “no hatred that cannot be turned into love, no dream that cannot be fulfilled.” Because of that, not only are we restored and saved, but we bring along the world with us – one light, one person at a time.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel – restore us and set us free! Amen.

[1] Ann Landers, Bits & Pieces, September 17, 1992, p. 3.

[2] Karoline Lewis. Luther Seminary.

 

[The sermon as written is not necessarily as delivered on any given Sunday]

The Rev. Diana Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 30, 2014
Advent 1 – Year B
1st Reading – Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Gospel – Mark 13:24-37