Advent 1 – 1 Dec 2024 (Christ Church St. Lucia)
Readings: Jeremiah 33: 4-16, Psalm 25: 1-10, 1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13, Luke 21: 25-38
“Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place” [1] “Be alert”, Jesus says to the crowd who have gathered around him in the temple – the very temple he has earlier predicted will be thrown down. Perhaps when we think of “being alert” it’s in terms of being on our guard - Jesus uses that phrase too or being watchful so that nothing bad happens to us. People who have been trained in the defence force, or the police service, or the security industry are trained to high levels of alertness, because there might be that unexpected moment, perhaps their guard is momentarily dropped, when something bad happens either to them, or someone for whom they are responsible. That level of alertness is necessary for survival sometimes. But it can cause difficulties later when they retire or move on to other occupations, they can be jumpy, always watching out, sometimes suspicious, unable to relax – or that very sense of heightened alertness is like some sort of adrenalin and people find themselves drawn back to similar occupations – people from the defence force, for example, who become security contractors.
There is another kind of alertness, though – it’s to do with watchfulness, but also a positive or joyful expectation. I don’t think I’ve used this illustration here – I know I’ve used it somewhere before – and I hope I’m not being repetitive. When I was growing up in Toowoomba in the 1950’s and early 60’s, my parents had a friend whom they had met in North Queensland. By then he had moved to Cooma to work on the new Snowy Mountains Scheme, but he would come and visit us every Christmas. He’d drive from Cooma to Toowoomba – it would take him three or four days. For those who may know Toowoomba, we lived at Mt. Lofty, and my father, my sister and brother and I would go to the outskirts of Toowoomba by bus to Harristown and then walk to Drayton as we didn’t have a car. Mum stayed at home – Mums seemed to do a lot of that in the 1950s. We would wait at the Steele Rudd Memorial there. We’d watch expectantly down the road at every car that came along – there weren’t all that many then – and we knew that his car was an FJ Holden that it was a creamy colour. To this day I can still remember the registration – ASH-496. When he finally drove up to us there was always great excitement, not the least of which was that we got a ride home in it. I think it is this sense of alertness, of joyful expectation to which we’re called in the Season of Advent.
We reset our church clocks this morning – we begin a new liturgical year. It’s Year C of the cycle and our focus will be on St. Luke’s Gospel. We could say Happy New Year, but the reading from St. Luke’s Gospel this morning is uncomfortable, maybe scary. We are again in the realm of apocalyptic language, as we were with Daniel and Revelation last Sunday, and Jesus points his listeners towards a future which he marks with strange and frightening imagery. The parts of the natural world that are highlighted in conveying the signs to which he refers, the sun, the moon, the stars and the ocean are the elements of creation. In the first few verses of Genesis, the watery chaos and the formless void are formed into a realm of day and night, sky and earth, dry land and seas. The sun and the moon are designated by God as signs of the orderly and predictable passing of time. All of this is turned on its head in Jesus’ words. Instead of order and stability, he speaks of confusion and the unknown, the seas will return to their original chaos. The human response is described as distress, confusion, fear, foreboding, all understandable reactions to such a vast cosmic dislocation.
I think the passage Luke 21 has often done more harm than good in Christian history. There is a stream of Christian thought that focusses unhealthily on verses 25-28 in all their apocalyptic glory, assuming that people can reckon the signs of the times and that they can be among God’s chosen. They promulgate end of the world scenarios. They trade on fear. There’s a range of books popular in these circles called the “Left Behind” series based on a literal interpretation of verses from Revelation and similar passages. One of the plots, for example is based around verses from St. Matthew’s Gospel[2] about two people working in one field, and one being left behind on the great and terrible day. This is the Armageddon thinking – looking forward to a great and terrible conflict where only the chosen ones will survive – and often the chosen ones seem to bear a striking similarity to each other. What does Jesus mean when he says, “the kingdom of God is near?” This question, and those like it, puts us in the realm of “eschatology” to give it its theological term. It simply means studying the last things. C. H. Dodd was an influential English theologian of the 1930’s to 50’s and he wrote quite extensively on what he called “realized” and “unrealized” eschatology. Those who take the apocalyptic writings literally are often at the “unrealized” end of the spectrum – they see the world as an evil place and the only release will come from the return of Christ in his glory at the Second Coming. At the other “realized” end are those who see the kingdom present with us now in all sorts of ways – concentrating solely on God’s presence with us now and hardly give a thought to the other aspect. We all fall somewhere between the two. It probably won’t surprise you to hear me say that I’m much closer to the realized than unrealized end. I think the earth is a wonderful place, that the earth is filled with the goodness of God – there is a constant refrain in the first creation story of Genesis that God saw that it was good. Our business as Christians is here to ensure we are living signs of the life and values of the kingdom and to bring beauty for brokenness, hope for despair.[3] Yet I also know that what we see and know and experience here is incomplete – that the greatness of God’s glory and the wonder of God’s purpose for this world is yet to be revealed in all its fullness. In a real sense there is something mystical about Advent – about how we experience the presence of God
But it’s not all kind of disaster movie imagery, Jesus goes on to tell a quite lovely small parable about a fig tree almost in the same breath. His use of a fig tree rather than some other tree was quite deliberate – the fig tree was a symbol for Israel in the same way that Jesus used the vine or the vineyard as a symbol for Israel. Together they symbolised both the spiritual and physical health of the nation.[4] The parable he tells reinforces the idea that knowing how to read the signs of God’s presence makes all the difference. The focus of the parable is not on the sprouting of the leaves as a sign of the end of time. The harvest was often used as a symbol for the end time and Jesus speaks of the summer being near, not the harvest. The focus is on the perception of those who listen to Jesus – if they read the signs rightly, they will know and discern that the kingdom – the way God works in the world - is near.
So, in the season of Advent our alertness for the signs of the kingdom is not to be the looking over our shoulder kind, not the “wait till your father gets home” kind, but looking forward in expectation for signs of the way God reigns in the world. We’re to be alert for signs of justice, signs of hope, signs of compassion, signs of love, signs that this different reality may break in sometimes. We’re not to let the false realities divert us – the worries of this life and especially the hedonism that seems to so much mark our own community life at this season. The American writer Eugene Peterson translates part of this passage from Luke today, “Don’t let the sharp edge of your expectation get dulled by parties and drinking and shopping”. But we don’t need to be Scrooge-like or wowserish to experience an Advent spirituality. Advent spirituality does not imply turning our backs on the Christmas season. It’s simply seeing things from the right perspective.
Jeremiah speaks words of hope. A branch, full of blossoms and eventually fruit, is bursting forth from an arid and broken nation. Uncertainty and fear and hopelessness come to an end and there is a new beginning. There is a future – God has a vision for you, for good not evil, for a future and hope. Advent promises beginnings and endings. It is a lovely season of joyful expectation and hope, the season for waiting and watching for God’s kingdom to break in, the season when all things seem possible as we wait for Emmanuel, God with us. It’s not a season for fear about the last things. Yet Advent is also a season of repentance, of turning our minds afresh to God’s purposes for the world, leaving behind those things that impede our watchfulness. Jesus points to turmoil and dislocation that announces the new age. One could argue that the present generation of which Jesus spoke did pass away and nothing happened, the signs didn’t occur. But that’s to apply our notions of time – clock time. The Bible also speaks of God’s time which is completely different to our notions, so the text is still open ended. We are asked to prepare for the advent of the Son of Man who comes with good news of our redemption, calls us to raise our heads confidently but who also calls us to account.
[1] Luke 21:36
[2] Matthew 24: 36-42
[3] Together in Song 690
[4] See for example 1 Kings 4:25 or Hosea 9:10
© The Reverend Bill Crossman