Backing into the Future

Isaiah 2:1-5. The word that Isaiah the son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

2  It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, 3 and many peoples shall come, and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”

For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem. 4  He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.

5  O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the LORD.

(The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. (2016). (Is 2:1–5). Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.)

Goal: Isaiah is prophesying about that which is yet to come in the restoration of the church, begun in Christ's first advent and yet to be concluded in his second advent. Isaiah prophesies within the context of the past in order for the Israelites to understand the future. It is almost a literal backing up into the future.

Malady: Judgment is needed and it will come; Isaiah makes this quite clear. Yahweh will judge between the nations. In this judgment comes peace where there has been war. Peace between the nations which were set against each other in the sin that corrupted the old creation. Peace between God and the nations. Peace between God and Israel. Peace between God and us. In so doing things will be reversed and the new creation will emerge. Weapons of war will be reduced to tools of agriculture, for in Christ, in the new creation, the house of Jacob will walk in the light of the Lord.

Means: In Christ the church is restored. In his holy incarnation he backs the church out of death into life. By entering into the old creation, taking on human flesh, being lifted up in death on the cross, and being raised to new life, Christ begins the great reversal and initiates the dawn of the new creation. He brings the church back through death to life in the river of salvation, Holy Baptism; and the church is drawn up to the mountain of the Lord.

Isaiah 2:1-5

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:37-44

Is. 2:1-5 is a prediction of the world-wide scope of the church in the last days, with its provision of God's will and grace; it will be the one true abode of peace among people. Rom. 13:11-14 is the traditional Epistle, central in the conversion of St. Augustine. It is not

simply a call to the puritan life, but the reminder that the Lord Jesus Christ is the power for replacing the flesh with Spirit, and that power is at hand. Matt. 24:37-44 is Jesus' own prediction of his second coming. It will be unexpected and its signs not too impressive for

people who have been lulled into complacence through their own fatigue and self-indulgence. The hearer needs more than a warning against false security and the folly of unpreparedness. The goal of the sermon is not simply to stop being secure. The goal emerges in the subsequent context: to be the servant of the household who contributes to the watchfulness and labors of his co-workers. The gospel power for this is Jesus Christ himself, readying his people for his return through the work by which he has brought them to himself through his atonement. Terror from signs and wonders can be spurious (Matt. 24:24); it is the gospel of the kingdom (v. 14) that remains the resource for sustaining God's people wakefully until his coming. The traditional Gospel for the day (Matt. 21:1-11) is an. alternate choice and is useful for turning the concern of God's people to the fulfillment of his plan for redeeming them and ushering in the age of faith (Is. 2:1-5). A summarizing theme for the day and the sermon: Let God's people be watchfully concerned for receiving and sharing his grace in Christ.

Advent — 1977

Alfred von Rohr Sauer

For the four Sundays in Advent the general theme will be "When God Comes." The conjunction is a temporal "when". It suggests the assurance of faith. It is not a hypothetical "if". That could call his coming into question. The verb "comes" is present indicative. It takes up neither God's need to come nor his willingness to come. Rather in retrospect the conjunction and the verb call to mind the pivotal points at which God did come in the past. Those are the points on which his comings in present and future are anchored.

If one looks at the four texts together, it will be observed that the thematic word "come" occurs ten times. That will therefore be the main accent for the four Advent Sundays. Each of the comings, however, will have a different orientation and will be characterized by distinct gifts of God. The schedule will be outlined as follows:

When God Comes

1. To his Mountain there will be No more Striving

First Advent Isaiah 2: 1-5

2. Through his Branch there will be No more Hurting

Second Advent Isaiah 11: 1-10

3. Along his Way there will be No more Grieving

Third Advent Isaiah 35: 1-10

4. In his Sign there will be No more Doubting

Fourth Advent Isaiah 7: 10-17

Preaching Helps for The First Sunday in Advent — 1977

Isaiah 2:1-5

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:37-4

When God comes to his mountain, there will be no more striving.

God has been "comin' round the mountain" for a long, long time. He once came to Abraham with a grand promise at Mount Moriah. He came again to Moses with a classic covenant at Mount Sinai. He came to David with the assurance of a dynasty at Mount Zion. And in Isaiah 2 he said that he would come to his mountain again. But when did he say that?

There was a time when things were not going well for God's people. That was during the period just after the exile, when it appeared that by his act of judgment Yahweh had abolished his election and promise. Then God's mountain seemed to be at an all-time low point. It needed a miraculous raising up, a wonderful re-establishment. It may be that that is precisely what a remarkable post-exilic voice in this text saw happening.

God would re-enact creation. He would raise the top of the temple-mount above every other mountain. As he had established the earth over the waters of chaos at creation, as he had made the cosmos unshakable at the front of the days by putting chaos in its place (Ps. 104 and Ps. 24), so at the back of the days he would make his temple-mount so high that it would be unreachable by any destructive force.

What effect would such a mountainous transformation have upon the nations? They would be drawn to God's mountain and join a grand pilgrimage to it. Even as Israel had once journeyed on a pilgrimage to Sinai to receive Yahweh's revelation, so the nations would make the sacred journey to the temple-mount and receive counsel from Yahweh. But the nations' reaction would include more than just coming to the Lord's mount. In the past they had been hostile to the mount and its master.

But now by another new act of creation God would bring the nations to acknowledge him as judge and conciliator. They would recognize him as the one who would decide between them and arbitrate for them, the one who would see that justice was done and that wrongs were righted. Thus by his word of judgment and forgiveness this divine conciliator would bring about a real enduring peace. The nations would submit voluntarily to the decisions which God made for them. Warlike engagements with sword and spear would give way to such peace-time work as using ploughshare and pruning-hook, taking care of grapevine and fig tree.

But is this prophetic promise of peace only an ideal? Will the nations of the world ever submit their differences to the Lord of the temple-mount? For us the answer lies in the changed perspective which the New Testament has given us of the role of the Lord's mountain. The Fourth Gospel and the Letter to the Hebrews make it very clear that the prophetic promise of Mount Zion as the exclusive place of revelation has been carried out by God in a radically different way. Paul says that the God of Mount Zion has been manifested to us in "the preaching of the crucified and risen Christ." (1 Cor. 2:2)

When the prophet therefore exhorts us in the last verse to come and walk in the Lord's light, he directs our New Testament vision not to the temple-mount in Jerusalem, but to that new creation that was ushered in by the death and resurrection of Christ. No matter how discouraged we may feel in the midst of our ongoing stresses and tensions, we are encouraged to walk in the radiance of the Easter morning. As the light of the sun enables us to see the world about us clearly and to make provisions for a life of security and stability in it, so the light of the risen Christ illumines our discordant, strife-torn church and world. The light from above enables us to assess, evaluate and correct our present way of life and to make it more serviceable and productive in God's kingdom. As surely as Christ came to the Mount of the Ascension to return to his Father, so certainly does the "When God Comes" of our theme assure us that he will come again. His banishing of strife, his replacing it by peace, marks the center of our Advent hope.

Preaching Helps for the First Sunday in Advent — 1980

Focus (from Preaching Helps—1980)

For an Advent alert, read (whether or not you have already) Reginald H. Fuller's "post-back" in Series C of the lectionary studies published in Proclamation 2. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979. The Advent issue of Series A in Proclamation 2 is not available at this writing.)

He makes the too unusual noises about the effect the commercialization of Christmas has had on the non- liturgical Protestant churches, which tend to become Christmassy at December's beginning. Most of you who read this have come to relax about all that — accept it as the kind of advance preparation necessary for the Feast's observance, something like

baking Christmas cookies In Advent. Some there no doubt are in the clergy and Sunday School staffs who still need to be reminded that broken ones and cookie crumbs can be sampled In Advent, but real feasting waits until the Feast.

Fuller describes "the art of dodging Advent," as sometimes practiced in the past in Anglican circles, and regrets the imposition of a heavily penitential mood along with the violet paraments last used in Lent. He reviews the accents of the old pericopic system. Then he says, "It is to be welcomed that the new lectionary has cleared up much of the confusion" as to whether Advent's focus is to be on the first or the second coming or both. It concentrates "on the parousia during the last three Sundays of the old church year and the first Sunday of the new, the First in Advent, and then on the second Sunday in Advent there is a clear shift of focus to the theme of preparation for the first coming."

He points out however that the Roman scheme of dropping the "overplus" of Pentecost Sundays not at the end but between post-Epiphany and the Pentecost-tide "makes sure that the Sundays focusing on the future eschatology are never dropped." Lutherans and Anglicans, followed by others, continued to drop the extra Sundays from Pentecost at its ending.

The result is an "out-of-step" situation with the Romans through much of Pentecost, and only in some years does the theme of future eschatology receive adequate coverage. It requires an early Easter to make sure all the Pentecost Sundays with their eschatologlcal accents are used. 1975 had a March 30 Easter, 1978 a March 26. From 1979 to 1986 Easter will be in April.

The Episcopal Church revised its rubrics to drop the extra Sundays by calculating backward from the last Sunday to determine the number of Sundays needed in Pentecost-tide. Fuller regrets that the Lutheran Book of Worship has not made the change and reminds those who follow it to look to the Second Lesson for the accents of the Second Coming which might otherwise not be sounded.

It might be helpful to think about the end of this age as Pentecost of the old winds down and Advent of the new year begins.

With this issue the new sequence of studies on Series A of the lectionary begins. This year the faculty of Christ Seminary — Seminex is offering the materials — a tribute to the many who practice what we teach and whose support has made our continuing to teach possible.

George W. Hoyer

Preaching Helps for The First Sunday in Advent — 1983

Psalm 122

Isaiah 2:1-5

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:37-44

There is an alternative to this day's Gospel. It is the traditional story of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem as the Prince of Peace. The same story used to be read on Palm Sunday. But our apocalyptic age with its terrible threat of nuclear holocaust requires the stern warning of the Lord in his eschatological discourse: "Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming ... you also must be ready; for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect." (Matt. 24:42, 44)

"Wake, awake, for the night is flying, The watchman on the heights is crying; Awake, Jerusalem, at last."

This is the theme of Advent Sunday. It has long been heard and has usually aroused feelings of joyful expectation. But, alas, Advent Sunday of the ecclesiastical year 1983-84 gives us little reason to be joyful. It portends the coming — not, indeed, of the Lord but of humanity's self destruction!

Nothing in this day's scriptures anticipates the mood that lies heavy upon us this Advent Season. How could it? Humanity has never before had the omnipotent power of God Almighty to destroy. The coming of the Lord has always meant a righteous judgment upon sin, of course. But there has always been the expectation that the destruction of sinners by a judging God would be accompanied by the deliverance of the righteous — among whom we have always counted ourselves. Our mood has been that of the Psalmist:

"I was glad when they said to me, Let us go to the house of the Lord" (Ps. 122:1)

We have heretofore rejoiced to hear Isaiah's promise,

"He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore."

But now our best hope is that the nations will learn to turn their nuclear armaments into peaceful sources of electric power and find a way to handle the pollutants that are left.

For the simple fact is that we have presumed to take the place and prerogative of God by creating powers that can destroy the human race and with it pollute this fragile globe Earth

so that nothing more can live on its surface. Nuclear war will not be the coming of the Lord in judgment and for our ultimate salvation but simply our own race suicide. There will be no kingdom of heaven here if that occurs.

In three articles in the New Yorker in February of 1982, Jonathan Schell preprinted parts of his subsequently published book, The Fate of the Earth. It was pointed out in a presidential address to the American Academy of Religion by Professor Gordon D. Kaufman of the Harvard Divinity School that Schell was not concerned only to point to the facts that all-out nuclear war would undoubtedly lead to the extinction of the human race and also the poisoning and radical transformation of Earth's upper atmosphere so as to reduce this globe to the barren condition of the moon's surface, but that — far worse than these facts — is the realization that this means the end of the world will not be God's act but our own! Westerners have always contemplated the end of the world. The Bible has taught us to expect it, however, as an act of God beyond which lies the promise of God. It is something new to consider that the end of the earth may come at any moment, with no warning beyond the buzz of the red telephone in the White House or the Kremlin by a human: our president and the premier of the Soviet Union!

This is an unprecedented fact. As Schell wrote in the New Yorker for February 8, 1982, pp. 59-60, quoted in the Harvard Divinity School Bulletin by Kaufman, in March, 1983, page 6,

"The possibility that the living can stop future generations from entering into life compels us to ask basic new questions about our existence, the most sweeping of which is what these unborn ones ... mean to us. No one has ever thought to ask this question before our time, because no generation before ours has ever held the life and death of the species in its hands ... How are we to comprehend the life or death of the infinite number of possible people who do not yet exist at all? How are we, who are a part of human life, to step back from life and see it whole, in order to assess the meaning of its disappearance? Death cuts off life; extinction cuts off birth

Today the Lord stands among us to threaten as well as promise that we do not know the day ... we must be ready... (for) an hour we do not expect.

Our meditation on this may well be guided by St. Paul: "Let us then cast off the works of

darkness and put on the armour of light." (Romans 13:12b)

Charles M. Cooper, President Emeritus Pacific Lutheran Seminary. Berkeley, California

Preaching Helps—1986 - First Sunday in Advent

November 30, 1986

Psalm 122

Isaiah 2:1-5

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:37-44

Advent is a time of waiting ... a time to remind ourselves that ultimately we are waiting for this Jesus who once came in the flesh to come again in glory. It is part and parcel of the Christian faith. As the earliest creed confesses, "He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end."

Sunday after Sunday we say that, the phrases tripping off our tongues as if we were merely babbling. Do we mean it? Are we really waiting for that? Are we really expecting a definitive encounter with God in the person of the glorified Son?

Waiting is not easy. Perhaps once upon a time, when life's pace was less hectic, waiting was easier. But nowadays we become very impatient whenever we have to wait. Think of all those occasions when waiting has made you angry, perturbed, frustrated, anxious—waiting for a doctor who's running behind schedule, waiting for the results of a biopsy, waiting for

news about the condition of a loved one who's been in an accident. Sometimes waiting seems to stretch into the infinite reaches of eternity.

Today's lessons remind us that Advent is indeed a time of waiting. And they say something about how we are to wait, about what our posture and behavior ought to be as we wait. For the earliest Christian community waiting was also a real problem. They had expected Jesus to

return immediately. They anticipated that history would come to a grand climax, would end with a big bang. Suddenly their Lord, the Son of man, the Human one, would emerge on the horizon to re-claim the earth as his and install his followers in glory. Some expected this to happen right away, and so they quit their jobs and sat around, twiddling their thumbs, no doubt still praying, and waiting. The delay in the Lord's coming posed a serious problem, for it tended to cast doubt on Christian claims about Jesus' lordship. It was perceived as invalidating the truth of the Christian assertion that Jesus would in fact be judge of the living and the dead. It didn't take too long before the Christian community realized that it had no

timetable by which to forecast the world's end. They would have to learn to live in time, in history.

And so they waited, and so we wait. Every once-in-awhile the signs of an end

to the world as we know it become a threat to us. Indeed, we have the capacity now with nuclear devices to annihilate every living thing on earth and to crumble the planet into dust. The balance of power among nations is so fragile that one never knows whether the morning paper will bring news of troop movements, invasions, bomb blasts, terrorist raids, suicide missions, or other signs that the human race is mired down in hatred, greed, and exploitation. It surely seems sometimes that the end is at hand, that if God doesn't end it all, we will, by design or by accident. And still we wait.

And while we wait, we should not be afraid. This waiting is not like the dreadful waiting for a session with the dentist or the surgeon. What makes our waiting not only tolerable, but possible and even joyful, is that we know for whom we're waiting. We know what history's final outcome will be. We've had a glimpse of that already in the one who has himself transcended the outer boundary of space and time, the one who is risen from the dead. It is he who is returning and who returns to us each day in his word of assurance and forgiveness, who returns to us sacramentally with his body and his blood. It is he who gives us himself so that we might wait patiently and full of hope, in company with him.

And what shall we do as we wait? Isaiah shares that splendid vision of peace, that time when people shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; that time when nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. Such a vision of peace is not a mirage, an illusion, a dream. It is the consequence of a right relationship with the Peacemaker, with the God who would gather all nations, all humans, to himself. It is a challenge to Christians to renew their vigils for peace, their activities for peace, their concerns, their marches, their protests, however God gives them courage to advance the cause of peace grounded in God.

And Paul reminds us that salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. We have the opportune time to move from darkness to light, to put off and put away all waywardness and distraction, to let all things old be covered by forgiveness, and to put on the Lord Jesus, to embrace all things new by celebrating the presence of the Advent Lord in word and song, in prayer and praise, in water, bread, and wine.

He is coming, to be sure. But before he comes in the hour of his glory, he comes into the hours of our lives, enabling us to cast off the works of darkness, to re-kindle faith and hope and love, and to wait without worry or fear.

David C. Yagow Deputy Provost Pacific Lutheran University, Tacoma, Washington

Preaching Helps 1986: The First Sunday In Advent (2)

They were only doing the ordinary things of life—eating, drinking, marrying and giving in marriage. The Gospel does not suggest they were living lives in gluttony, drunkenness, and free love. But their problem—and the one we are being urged to avoid by another Advent—is the doing of life's ordinary things without the overtone of the extraordinary.

There was a flood—the waters above the heavens and the water beneath the heavens were about to be joined once again in terrible destruction; they knew nothing about it. There was an ark being built wherein eight souls were to be saved; they knew nothing about it, most of them. Those nearest the construction site were aware enough to jeer; but they did not know the way of life. Whatever kind of narrow gang plank Noah built to the door of the ark, that was the narrow way of life.

The lessons combine on Advent I to urge us to walk the way of life. The Old Testament lesson urges us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of God: "He will teach us his ways so that we may walk in his paths." "Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord." The Psalm rejoices with those who say, "Let us go to the house of the Lord." The

Second Lesson continues the description in terms of darkness and light. The deeds of darkness are those ordinary things of life distorted into what sin has made the all-too-usual: "orgies and drunkenness, sexual immorality and debauchery, dissension and jealousy." More to the immediate problem most of us face is the warning that life lived like that is life lived slumbering. Darkness and light—God made them both and divided between them. There is nothing wrong with darkness that a little light can't correct. And slumbering is good, too, in its time and place-God gives his beloved sleep.

But life lived slumbering . . . think of the news stories of people who have been in a coma for weeks, months, even years. That is not life, we say. And God is reminding us in Advent that life lived without the awareness of the Light of the world which lightens every one who comes into the world, life lived out in doing the ordinary things without an awareness of the extraordinary, is not life either.

Think of the extraordinaries that all too easily become commonplace to us. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light! There is a way, a way of holiness, and God's fools will not stumble walking on it. There is an ark, the Church, floating on the waters of baptism, and that water has washed away our filth and sin and purified our consciences before God. There are new heavens and new earth in the creative mind of God about to be built, where there is no need of a candle nor of the sun, for the Son of God is the light thereof. There is Father-Son-Holy Spirit coming to us and dwelling with us and making an abode within us. Think of it, remember what we never want to forget, even as our Lord gives us himself in the bread and wine that we might remember*

Lest this all come through as simply an admonition to positive living, it is perhaps good that our Lord uses the analogy of a thief breaking into a house at night. It is doubtless needful for us that our Lord couches his warning in apocalyptic imagery and spells out in later verses what the master will do to his unfaithful servant —"cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth" (v.51).

But for those whom God has chosen, those for whom "he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other" (v.31), the pertinent analogy to urge us on to living the ordinary extraordinarily would be clothed in positive comparisons. If you had known that the ice cream man was going to come by at two-thirty, you would have gotten your nap over in a hurry instead of refusing to go up to bed after lunch. If you had known that the eccentric millionaire was going to be giving away hundred dollar bills in the shopping center, you would have been down there getting your chores completed long before the place was crowded with last minute housewives.

We wait for our Lord, our King, our Brother, our Savior! A Maryland saint, now in the glory, used to say about his own intense practice of the awareness of "the soon coming of the Lord": "When he came for the first time there were only a few sleepy shepherds and Mary and Joseph to welcome him. What a shame it will be if when he comes for the second

time there are no more of us waiting to welcome him.

Still, what chance is there? For us all it is said,". . . when you least expect him." Does that really mean all? Or of all the Advent Christians waiting his soon coming, might there not be one or two? And might you and I be those one or two? Nor would we want to divide up the time, like allotting fifteen minutes for each Christian in a prayer vigil—it is not just that we want a welcoming committee on hand. We want to be there to welcome!

What chance do we have? It is the chance of the "one is taken and the other left-which is no chance at all, but the evidence of the gracious and unexplainable God who is gathering "my chosen ones." The Living Bible's paraphrase turns the thief analogy into more positive terms, but in the process almost turns the gospel into a process of works. "A man can prevent trouble from thieves by keeping watch for them; so you can avoid trouble by always being ready for my unannounced return." How do we avoid the trouble? Through him who has voided trouble. The Lord who will come is the Lord who came in the first place and whose angels revealed his coming to shepherds who were among God's chosen ones. It is the Lord who so loved the world that he came as the ice cream man cometh, not to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. He came as the eccentric who gives to all who will accept, as the Son of God who yet let himself be taken as if a thief by a crowd with swords and staves and lanterns ... and let himself be offered as a ransom for all the world . . . and God raised him from the dead!

So then, brothers and sisters, "you are not in darkness so that this day should surprise you like a thief. You are all sons of the light and sons of the day, daughters of the light and daughters of the day . . . But since we belong to the day, let us be self-controlled, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet. For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. He died for

us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing" (I Thessalonians 5:4-11).

George W. Hoyer, Christ Seminary-Seminex

Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary, Berkeley, California

Concordia Journal: Homiletical Helps for the First Sunday in Advent

Romans 13:11-14 — December 2, 2001

Comments on the text: 1. The dominant (and sustained) metaphor in this pericope is that of time, more specifically day and night images: ''knowing the time," "it is high time," "awake out of sleep," "now is our salvation nearer," "the night is far spent," "the day is at hand," "cast off the works of darkness," and "walk honestly as in the day." Even the clothing metaphors, "put on the armor of light" (v. 12) and "put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ" (v. 14) are consistent with these day and night images since getting dressed is an activity we associate with waking up from a night's sleep and getting up for a day's activity.

2. The day versus night images in this text are useful in providing a fuller picture of evil. Evil is something we need to awaken from as well as refrain from. Evil can be passive as well as active. Evil consists of lethargy in respect to good as well as occupation in respect to evil. Evil is a condition we're afflicted with, not just an activity we enter into. Evil is inside us, not only outside us.

3. The phrase "works of darkness" (v. 12) has levels of meaning. It connects evil not only to the other night images in our text but also to the Scriptural portrait elsewhere of the source of evil, Satan as "the prince of darkness" and hell as "the kingdom of darkness."

4. The King James rendition "chambering" (v. 13) is more clearly translated as "adultery" or "immorality" in modern versions of the Bible. Yet the archaic expression "chambering" is more specific and more picturesque, depicting not merely the act of immorality but also its frequent locale — the chamber. "Chambering" is an instance of metonymy, one thing (the location) calling to mind another thing (the activity) too often associated with it.

5. We recognize in the ear-filling catalog of sins in verse 13 a familiar distinction: sins of the flesh ("rioting," "drunkenness," "chambering," "wantonness") versus sins of the disposition ("strife" and "envying"). Society — at least reputable and ethical society (such as church members) — tends to regard the former as worse than the latter. Whereas society often condemns, ostracizes, banishes, arrests, jails, and punishes those who commit sins of the flesh, it often tolerates, associates with, even welcomes those guilty of sins of the disposition. But Paul pulls no punches. He calls both kinds of sin "works of darkness." With God there is no distinction. He who hates his brother is a murderer as well as the person who kills his brother (1 John 3:15). He who lusts for a woman in his heart is an adulterer as well as the person who seduces her (Matt. 5:28). None of us, therefore, can escape the scathing indictment of our text.

6. The clothing metaphors of verses 12 and 14 ultimately refer to one and the same garment, not two different garments. Since the Scriptures inform us that "God is light" (1 John 1:5) and that Jesus is "the light of the world" (John 8:12), Paul's directive in verse 12 to "put on the armour of light" is another way of saying to "put on the Lord Jesus Christ," the very garment spoken of in verse 14.

7. The garment metaphor of verse 14, "put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ," subtly suggests that the cure for evil behavior and the power for good behavior lie not in ourselves but in Christ. Refraining from evil and performing good are not the products of human resolution and human will power. Virtue is not of our own manufacture. It is something from outside us, given us and placed upon us like an article of clothing.

8. The portrait of the second coming of Christ on Judgment Day in our text is the positive correlative to the more negative portrait of that event in the Gospel for this Sunday (Matt. 24:37-44), in which there are ominous pictures of people caught unaware by the end of the world and in which we are urged to be on guard for that event as we would be on guard for a surprise burglary. But in our text we are reminded that what is imminent is "salvation," a pleasant word describing a pleasant entity. Besides, the text depicts that salvation as an accomplished fact. "It is finished," as Jesus said on the cross. Expressions like "Judgment Day" or "the end of the world" may have negative connotations, but the phrase "salvation nearer" puts a positive spin on the phenomenon. The phrase reminds us of the fabulous blessing that comes to us Christians when human life and human history are over. "The day is at hand" (v. 12) is another pleasant way in which the text calls to mind our glorious future. Hence, Christ's second coming is not only something about which we are cautioned, ''Watch therefore" and "be ye also ready for" (Matt. 24:42 & 44) but also something for which we are urged to "look up, and lift up [our] heads; for [our] redemption draweth nigh" (Luke 21:28).

9. The "avoid evil" imperatives of our text are sandwiched between two discussions of Christian love, a generic one in the verses preceding the text (13:8-10) and a specific one about the application of that principle to disagreements over the eating of certain foods and the observance of certain days in the verses following the text (chap. 14). The point suggested is that Christian behavior consists not only of the avoidance of evil (negative) but also of the practice of love (positive).

10. "Flesh" in verse 14 refers not to the human body but rather to the body of sin. "Flesh" is another term for our sinful nature, what we sometimes call our old Adam or old man. When Paul says, "make not provision for the flesh," he is urging us not to pamper our sinful nature, not to look out for the welfare of our old Adam.

For example, "make not provision for the flesh" means that if you can't hold your drinks, stay away from the bar. If you have sticky fingers, don't run for the office of treasurer. If you're plagued with filthy thoughts, don't watch a beauty contest. If you consistently lose your temper at bridge, give up cards.

The power for carrying out Paul's injunction, "make not provision for the flesh," lies in the words immediately preceding that injunction: "put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ." Clothing ourselves with Christ's righteousness will empower our obedience.

11. The direction ofthe text, doctrinally, is from salvation (v. 11) to sanctification (vv. 12-14) and, homiletically, from faith-goal to life-goal. The Gospel, being clothed with the Lord Jesus Christ, is available for both areas, ensuring our salvation and empowering our sanctification.

Suggested Outline:

I. Recognize that our Christ-completed salvation is near (v. 11).

II. Recognize that so near and so great a salvation deserves everyday conduct appropriate to

its nearness and greatness (vv. 12-14).

III. Recognize that the Gospel, "putting on the Lord Jesus Christ," is God's means by which to

meet Paul's challenge (v. 14).

Proclamation — The First Sunday in Advent

The authors of this volume of Proclamation are the late Bishop Samuel Joseph Wylie of the Episcopal Diocese of Northern Michigan and the Rev. John L. McKenzie, Professor of Old Testament studies at De Paul University, Chicago, 111. Bishop Wylie, the editor-homiletician, served as a _________ at the University of Virginia and Brown University, Canon of the Cathedral of St. John, Providence, R.I., Rector of the Church of the Advent, Boston, Mass., and Dean of the General Theological Seminary, New York, N.Y. In 1972 he became Bishop of the Diocese of Northern Michigan, with headquarters in Menominee. Bishop Wylie's untimely death occurred on May 6, 1974 while he was visiting New York City. The exegete. Father John L. McKenzie, is a member of the Society of Jesus and taught Old Testament studies at West Baden College, a Jesuit seminary in southern Indiana, from 1942-1960. He also taught at Loyola University, the University of Notre Dame, and as visiting professor at the University of Chicago before going to De Paul University in 1970. Father McKenzie is the author of several books; most recently he published his Old Testament Theology (1972). He is a former president of both the Catholic Biblical Association and the Society for Biblical Literature.

Lutheran Roman Catholic Episcopal Pres./UCC/Chr. Methodist/COCI

Isa. 2:1-5 Isa. 2:1-5 Isa. 2:1-5 Isa. 2:1-5 Isa. 2:1-5

Rom. 13:11-14 Rom. 13:11-14 Rom. 13:11-14 Rom. 13:11-14 Rom. 13:8-14

Matt. 24:37-44 Matt. 24:37-44 Matt. 24:37-44 Matt. 24:37-44 Matt. 24:36-44

EXEGESIS

First Lesson: Isa. 2:1-5. Isa. 2:2-4 appears in Mic. 4:1-3. Modern critics are not generally inclined to ask in which book it belongs first; they rather believe that the passage is from neither prophet and was inserted into the two collections independently at a later date. The passage exhibits a type of future expectation which many interpreters think cannot be found in the second half of the eighth century, the period in which both Isaiah and Micah lived. The theme and tone of the passage are more akin to Second Isaiah, who wrote about the middle of the sixth century. It is possible to conjecture—but no more-that the scribes who added the passages in the two books thought of these lines as a response to Isa. 1:8 and 21 and to Mic. 3:12; this is altogether likely in Micah, where our passage follows immediately upon the threat of total destruction of Zion.

The first line, 2:1, is an editorial gloss or headline identifying the following three verses; the editor may indeed have intended the headline to cover the following material as well, in which there are ample references to Judah and Jerusalem. But his headline merely repeats the headline of 1:1, which suggests that he meant to draw attention to the "salvation saying" of 2:2-4.

The "latter days" (or "the end of days") became in later OT literature a technical term for the period which recent theology calls eschatological. That "the mountain of the house of the Lord" (Zion, the mountain of the temple) should become the highest of all mountains is an obvious poetic hyperbole, tempered somewhat by the fact that the poet's observation had probably not gone beyond Hermon (9,000 feet) or Lebanon (10,000 feet); it is a symbolic expression of the hope that Zion will become the center of the earth. The ingathering of the nations is a theme of Second Isaiah (45:14-25) and Third Isaiah (60:1-22).

The Mountain of the Lord (Zion) becomes for the nations what Mount Sinai was in the traditions of the exodus; it is the mountain of revelation. The words "ways," "paths," "law," and "word" are terms of the revelation of the Law. The word torah ("law," verse 3) originally meant instruction, then revealed instruction, the "Law," the whole corpus of revelation contained in the five books of Moses. The word is hardly used here in the sense of "Pentateuch" which it acquired in later Judaism (and in the NT). On the other hand, the association of "law" and "word" with "ways" and "paths" suggests a strongly moralistic view of revelation. The verse does not suggest the distinction between the torah of the priests and the "word" of the prophet which appears in Jer. 18:18. It appears that the lines come from a period in which the collection of moral and legal traditions defining a way of life was becoming the dominant idea of revelation.

The result of this revelation to the nations is expected to be universal peace. Yahweh, presumably through his law and his word, will be the arbiter of international disputes. That he will judge "between" the nations seems to be an explicit change from the common phrase "judge the nations," meaning punish them. A vision of universal peace with quite different imagery appears in Isa. 11:6-9. In both visions it is obvious that the prophet sees universal peace as arriving with universal faith in the sole divinity of Yahweh.

V. 5 has the word "walk" in common with Mic. 4:5, which is hardly enough to establish a relationship between the two verses; furthermore, this passage lacks Mic. 4:4. V. 5 is probably an editorial gloss added as a hortatory conclusion; it does in fact serve as a transition to the rebuke which begins in 2:6.

Second Lesson: Rom. 13:11-14. These verses are taken from the hortatory part of Romans, which includes chapters 12-15. Such hortatory sections are normally the last part of a Pauline epistle before the conclusion, and it is not surprising that they tend to run to type. The distinctive feature of this passage which makes it well adapted to the liturgy of Advent will appear in the exegesis. The same feature keeps it from being very well connected with what precedes and what follows in the text of Romans.

The "hour" (Greek kairos, opportune moment) and the "full time" (RSV, the ripe time) had a meaning for Paul and his listeners which the modem reader does not see on the surface. This opportune moment and ripe time when salvation approaches (v. 11) is the expected second coming of the Lord in glory, the parousia. That Paul spoke of this event as imminent and within the reasonable expectation of his congregations is evident from several passages of the epistles. He uses the theme elsewhere, as a motive for the believer to live a Christian life and to make himself ready for the coming of the Lord in glory as judge. For many centuries the church has applied this theme of Paul to the liturgical coming of the Lord in the commemoration of his nativity.

The imagery of night and daybreak certainly emphasizes the nearness of the event. Paul's use of the imagery of sleep and awakening is varied and inconsistent. He could hardly be reproaching the Romans for drowsiness in faith and morality, since he did not know them personally; thus the first use of the figure is neutral. The second coming is the dawning of a new day, the eternal day, to which every one will be "awakened."

Paul then passes from the imagery of sleep and wakefulness to the imagery of light and darkness, an imagery which has its roots not only in the OT but in the older religions of the ancient Near East. Paul's allusion to a war of light and darkness is paralleled in one of the documents of Qumran; but the theme is common enough and the terms are so general that no literary connection is indicated. Light is the element of divinity and of good, darkness is the element of evil and, in Jewish belief, of evil spirits. There is no explicit reference to demons here; the works of darkness are sins. Paul is probably using a homiletic commonplace here; as we have remarked, he had no occasion to read a reproach to the Romans as he did to the Galatians and the Corinthians. The casual allusion to the armor of light can be filled out from Eph. 6:11-13, more briefly in 1 Thess. 5:8. It seems to be, as we have suggested, a homiletic commonplace.

The wicked works of darkness are arranged in three pairs—another homiletic commonplace? The first four of these are the vices which are long known as "Roman" from literature and art; in fact, the four words mention what is depicted in a number of Pompeian frescoes. Both the art and the literature deal with such parties as typically upper class, which again suggests a commonplace; we have no reason to think that the Roman Christians were socially a cut above the Corinthians (1 Cor. 1:26). The fifth and sixth words, however, designate more specific anti-Christian vices, which attack Christian love.

"To put on Christ" appears also in Gal. 3:27. As commentators remark, it is synonymous with "incorporation into Christ." Whether putting on, incorporation, or rebirth is mentioned, the process has radical moral effects as Paul describes it. The desires of the flesh are in opposition to the indwelling spirit. In spite of the first two pairs of v. 13, the "flesh" is not to be taken in the restricted meaning which it has acquired in Christian homiletics. For Paul the flesh is much more than sexual concupiscence, and the third pair of v. 13 is just as "carpal" in Paul's mind as the first two.

Gospel: Matt. 24:37-44. This passage follows Matthew's version of "the Synoptic Apocalypse"; and the division at Matt. 24:37 avoids two difficulties in the text. The first difficulty is the discord between Matt. 24:32-35, which seems meant to give clear signs of an imminent event, and Matt. 24:36—25:13, which emphatically declares that the event is unpredictable. The second difficulty is found in 24:36, which seems to deny to Jesus knowledge which in traditional Christology he should have had. The selection of this lesson not only removes these difficulties, but also removes the implication that the second coming is imminent. What remains is a conventional exhortation to Christian vigilance and prudence. This conventional exhortation lacks the sense of eschatological urgency which many NT passages have. Modem homiletics seems to have found no theme which expresses an equally sharp sense of urgency. The liturgical application of the passage is based on the recurring allusions to the coming of the Son of man, applied to the nativity; but the coming meant by the evangelist is the second coming, the parousia.

The theme of vigilance is illustrated by three examples; the first of these is biblical, the others are drawn from daily experience. That the deluge of Noah caught men by surprise is not stated in Genesis, but it is clearly implied. The author does not refer even implicitly to the expansions of Gen. 6:5 and 13 found in Jewish apocryphal and rabbinical literature, in which the wickedness of men is imaginatively portrayed.

It seems unlikely that the author was unacquainted with this type of interpretation, and we may judge that it did not suit his purpose. The words "eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage" designate the ordinary activities of life, and do not refer to the sinfulness of ante-diluvian man. The worst implication one can gather is that men went about the ordinary business of life with no thought of the impending catastrophe. It is not said that they have been warned, and there is no hint that the author thinks of Noah as a "preacher of righteousness" (2 Pet. 2:5). The emphasis falls upon the idea of the unexpected catastrophe. This does not imply that the author ignores the moral discrimination displayed in the catastrophe; this discrimination is stated in his second example—of men and women engaged in the same activities who are separated by judgment. In these pairs there is a moral difference which is known to God alone, on the basis of which one person is "taken" and the other is "left." The "taking" refers to the assumption of the righteous into the clouds with the Son of man (24:31; see also 1 Cor. 15:52; 1 Thess. 4:16). Commentators point out that the passage has no hint of the resurrection of the dead; the second coming is presented as an imminent event of urgent concern to the living.

The theme of vigilance is sustained in the third example of the nocturnal burglar. One must not press details; the householder can prevent burglary by vigilance, but no one can prevent the second coming by vigilance. One can only be ready, as the needs and possibilities of each situation demand and permit. In this example the element of surprise nearly obliterates the element of moral discrimination; the householder is rather an innocent victim of aggression. The missing element is supplied in the parable of 25:45-51, not included in this reading. The author seems to imply that simple unawareness of the impending catastrophe, at least for those who have heard the proclamation of the gospel, cannot be innocent. It is a gospel theme that those who deal with this world and its activities as the ultimate reality commit a basic moral blunder. The direction of this and similar passages is not so much against human sinfulness, in the ordinary sense of the term, as against human unconcern.

HOMILETICAL INTERPRETATION

Spears into plowshares is the universal dream and the words are often quoted, but note that Isaiah makes universal peace conditional to the acceptance of God's authority. The lessons for Advent II and III are similarly balanced. It might be interesting to collect a number of the biblical references often quoted without their limiting conditions. "You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free" is preceded by "If you dwell within the revelation I have brought, you are indeed my disciples; you shall know the truth . . ." Truth, freedom, peace as concepts or even as states of being are not ends in themselves. They are the consequences of a right relationship, and the relationship is the primary concern. A sermon on the price of peace, both personal and social, could use the First Lesson for the substance and vision of peace, the Second Lesson for illustrations of the personal demands made by a serious commitment to the cause of peace, and the Gospel for the necessary attitude of vigilance. Note that peace is finally made by the Peacemaker. Our Advent hopes gather around a person as much as they do about the blessed state of being he introduces.

The vision announced in the OT as coming to pass in the last days is supplemented by the Gospel's command to watch for the signs of the Lord's coming. The last days are always imminent. Those who link his return with particular current events are missing the apostolic insistence that any day and hour may be the moment when the last trumpet will sound. The reference to the flood invites comments on the judgment the Lord's coming brings. The triumph of peace (First Lesson) and light (Second Lesson) involves setting men and institutions straight, or of sweeping them away. How was it in the days of Noah with the rest of the community? Incredulity and cynicism about the Ark, certainly, and business as usual in spite of the signs of community wickedness. Then chaos and death descended. It is a familiar OT theme. Are there signs of the death of our own times that should be noted? Can they be noted without obscuring the fact that our message is primarily one of unrelieved condemnation? Who are today's ark-builders? How does an ark-builder differ from a prophet of doom? The confrontation of God's judgment is an awesome experience which may lead to new life. It would be unfortunate to use the Advent announcement of that majestic theme for mere scolding about the sins of church and state.

Watching for signs of the Lord's revelation of himself is the constant Christian attitude to life according to the Advent Propers, and the Christian style of life should reflect the detachment, the tentativeness about possessions and status, that waiting for the Lord's appearing naturally requires. Ark-builders view local social hierarchies and even economic development in a more cool and detached way than empire builders. As it was in the days of Noah . . . how was it with Noah, do you suppose?

Obviously, few of the things that gladdened the hearts of his neighbors or plunged them into fear or despair could occupy him. We must see him involved with the coming moment of truth; alert, awake, self-controlled. That is the picture the Second Lesson evokes. (Discussions of Noah's historicity are out of place on Advent I. Neither the defense of Noah nor apologies for using him as an example are appropriate when faced with so majestic a theme as the approaching END and how to prepare for the definitive encounter with God.)

The study of these three passages might lead to a sermon on time as the Bible speaks of it: "The last days" of Isaiah, the "kairos" of Romans, and the dramatic warning to be ready in Matthew have obvious connections. Every "right" time in the experience of Christians and of the church is a revelation of God, a preview of the ultimate disclosure. Every "right idea whose time has come" has power beyond ordinary communication. God's time is properly honored by anticipation or watchfulness before the disclosure and explicit obedience afterwards. We cannot temporize, stall, or postpone our response to the self-disclosure of God.

While the subject is not very suitable for preaching, the preacher's own preparation requires a point of view about time in relation to eschatology. The biblical language is futuristic although the future experience is anticipated now in the present because of the believer's relationship to Christ. It might be well to meditate and read a bit on the theme before tackling a series of Advent sermons.

The Second Lesson stresses the note of self-discipline as we watch for the fulfillment of the vision or the longing stated by Isaiah. The laziness induced by over-indulgence robs us of the ability to see the vision; to watch for the signs of the Lord's coming. The deeper lethargy caused by disillusionment and despair blinds us to any intuition of glory. E. B. Browning reminds us that only a Moses sees a bush aflame, other people stand around picking blackberries.

Both the Second Lesson and Gospel urge the believer to "stay awake" or "to watch." A sermon on the biblical meaning of wakefulness or watchfulness would be helpful. Illustrations from the excited, tingling expectancy of a child waiting for Christmas, of explorers watching for a landfall after a long time at sea without charts will give feeling to what might otherwise be a purely intellectual exercise. What experiences of life do we long for and slightly dread at the same time? These are likely to be experiences of judgment that prefigure the final judgment, the final revelation.

Lutherans who elect the alternate gospel, the Palm Sunday story, will stress the joy of anticipation this week and save the references to judgment for future weeks. Hosannah to the coming one is the theme. The consequences can be dealt with later!

Psalm 122

Isaiah 2:1-5

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:37-44

1. Isaiah 2:1-5. Isaiah's vision of the time of salvation has impressed itself indelibly upon the human psyche because it found deep resonance there and gave shape to its profoundest yearnings and longings. His words on beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks have been translated into every human tongue, expressed in sculpture and every other artistic medium, and continue to haunt the human heart both as desire and as impossible dream.

The prophet hungered and thirsted for a time when people would lose all memory of the martial arts, learn war no more, and be ruled not by might but by the Lord in his righteousness. Isaiah pictured a time when the slight hill of Zion, lower than the Mount of Olives and other hills roundabout, would be exalted and lifted high above its neighbors to become the great world-mountain. Then Zion and Jerusalem (the daughter city set on Zion) would be not just taller but better, as torah or instruction, rather than arms and armies, flow from it to conquer hearts and wills and so establish universal peace and justice. Jerusalem would become a city of holiness, a beacon set on a high hill, enlightening the nations (Matt. 5:14-16; Rev. 21:22-22:5). The prophet paints the picture of that future time and calls his hearers to live by it as though it were already a present reality: "Let us walk in the light of the LORD!"

2. Romans 13:11-14. Paul uses the language of spiritual warfare: "Put on the armor of light!" (Cf. 1 Thes. 5:8; Eph. 6:10-17) Gird yourselves, he says, as soldiers in the great battle of day against night, light against darkness.

Like Isaiah, Paul announces the coming of the end. And like Isaiah Paul is full of hope. His is no brooding lament about deepening shadows and the decline of civilizations, but rather a joyous chant of the breaking forth of beauteous light, the fleeing of shadows, the slinking away of all the creatures who delight in darkness as a cover for their deeds. No uncertain Beckett "waiting for Godot to come or for night to fall," Paul sees the dawning light and tries to shake people out of their slumbers, calling them to put off vices traditionally associated with the night (carousing, drunkenness, debauchery, licentiousness). And then he names those vices that he thinks are particularly disturbing the peace and wholeness of the Roman congregation: quarrelling and jealousy. Put off the night clothes, he says, and "put on the Lord Jesus Christ." (Cf. Gal. 3:27)

3. Matthew 24:37-44. Compared with the winged words of Isaiah and the clarion call of the apostle, the Gospel seems able to boast only that it has inspired the bumper sticker: "In case of the rapture this car will be unmanned." It has also (with a little help from 1 Thess. 4:17) inspired countless Christians to expect a rapture of sudden snatching away of Christians from the chaos and horrors expected to come upon the world in the last times (see Hal Lindsey, The Late Great Planet Earth}. That is, it has inspired speculation and provided images for the curious to ponder: What will happen? When? Before, in the midst of, or after the tribulation? Matthew's own focus is more practical.

He calls for constant vigilance and wakefulness, since the arrival of the end cannot be fixed in advance and noted on any calendar. It will be an unscheduled event. He offers as examples three sets of events suddenly and unexpectedly overtaking people. The first and third sets of events are clear enough: if people had been ready for the universal flood in Noah's day, they would all have been saved; and if the homeowner kept his eyes open twenty-four hours a day, the thief would have to retreat empty-handed.

But what is the picture in the second set? Two men are working in a field, and two women are milling grain into flour. Then what? Does Matthew mean that the end comes and the angels go forth, sent by the son of man, and do their work of separation? (See 13:36-43, 47-50; and the parables of ch. 25) Or is the picture that of the sudden arrival of an invading army interrupting all normal activity? Does "take" mean taken into the kingdom (positive) or gathered like chaff or weeds for destruction or taken into captivity (negative)? And does "left" mean left for destruction in the time of tribulation (negative) or spared in time of war (positive)?

What is certain is that Matthew is talking about separation, division, and the necessity of vigilance. What might also be noted is that Matthew says that some who are lost are not lost

because of depth of depravity or wickedness. He does not list the vices that Paul does. Those lost in Noah's day, according to Matthew, were doing nothing worse than eating, drinking, and marrying. The men and the women in the field and at the mill were simply working at common tasks side by side. They are all described as engaged in normal, wholesome, necessary activities. If we were incapable of loving and working we would be physically or mentally ill.

Matthew says that the lost "did not know" (24:39,42,43). He hints that they were ignorantly absorbed in the cares of the world (13:22) or distracted by simple delight in the basic good things of life.

4. If we describe the vision of Isaiah as unforgettable but then add that it is also unattainable, "only" a vision, a "mere" hope, is it because we do not count sufficiently on the Lord and his righteousness? Have we begun to settle for smaller, lesser visions, narrowly personal or familial visions and hopes, such as prosperity or security or the pursuit of happiness? Ancient Hebrews fell into that trap of hoping in narrowly nationalistic fashion for a greater Israel. Paul criticized those Roman Christians who had split into "weak" and "strong" factions passing judgment on one another's habits and scruples (ch. 14). He lumped their quarrellings and jealousies Into a catalog of vices, Indicating that they were no better than drunkenness and carousing.

Matthew indicates that this present world of things visible and tangible exercises a seductive power and turns hearts and minds and lives away from God.

Advent is a time to test our vision, stretch our horizons, and purify our hopes — and to do it in the light of the character of our God. He is Lord of all nations and deals with people in justice. He is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has had mercy on weak and strong, and he calls us to a life of righteousness (Matt. 5:20), mercy (9:13), and love for God and the neighbor (22:37-40).

Robert Smith, Professor of New Testament, Christ Seminary — Semlnex

Preaching Helps for the First Sunday in Advent — 1986

November 30, 1986

Psalm 122

Isaiah 2:1-5

Romans 13:11-14

Matthew 24:37-44

Advent is a time of waiting ... a time to remind ourselves that ultimately we are waiting for this Jesus who once came in the flesh to come again in glory. It is part and parcel of the Christian faith. As the earliest creed confesses, "He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end." Sunday after Sunday we say that, the phrases tripping off our tongues as if we were merely babbling. Do we mean it? Are we really waiting for that? Are we really expecting a definitive encounter with God in the person of the glorified Son?

Waiting is not easy. Perhaps once upon a time, when life's pace was less hectic, waiting was easier. But nowadays we become very impatient whenever we have to wait. Think of all those occasions when waiting has made you angry, perturbed, frustrated, anxious—waiting for a doctor who's running behind schedule, waiting for the results of a biopsy, waiting for news about the condition of a loved one who's been in an accident. Sometimes waiting seems to stretch into the infinite reaches of eternity.

Today's lessons remind us that Advent is indeed a time of waiting. And they say something about how we are to wait, about what our posture and behavior ought to be as we wait. For the earliest Christian community waiting was also a real problem. They had expected Jesus to return immediately. They anticipated that history would come to a grand climax, would end with a big bang. Suddenly their Lord, the Son of man, the Human one, would emerge on the horizon to re-claim the earth as his and install his followers in glory. Some expected this to happen right away, and so they quit their jobs and sat around, twiddling their thumbs, no doubt still praying, and waiting. The delay in the Lord's coming posed a serious problem, for it tended to cast doubt on Christian claims about Jesus' lordship. It was perceived as invalidating the truth of the Christian assertion that Jesus would in fact be judge of the living and the dead. It didn't take too long before the Christian community realized that it had no timetable by which to forecast the world's end. They would have to learn to live in time, in history.

And so they waited, and so we wait. Every once-in-awhile the signs of an end to the world as we know it become a threat to us. Indeed, we have the capacity now with nuclear devices to annihilate every living thing on earth and to crumble the planet into dust. The balance of power among nations is so fragile that one never knows whether the morning paper will bring news of troop movements, invasions, bomb blasts, terrorist raids, suicide missions, or other signs that the human race is mired down in hatred, greed, and exploitation. It surely seems sometimes that the end is at hand, that if God doesn't end it all, we will, by design or by accident. And still we wait.

And while we wait, we should not be afraid. This waiting is not like the dreadful waiting for a session with the dentist or the surgeon. What makes our waiting not only tolerable, but possible and even joyful, is that we know for whom we're waiting. We know what history's final outcome will be. We've had a glimpse of that already in the one who has himself transcended the outer boundary of space and time, the one who is risen from the dead. It is he who is returning and who returns to us each day in his word of assurance and forgiveness, who returns to us sacramentally with his body and his blood. It is he who gives us himself so that we might wait patiently and full of hope, in company with him.

And what shall we do as we wait? Isaiah shares that splendid vision of peace, that time when people shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; that time when nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. Such a vision of peace is not a mirage, an illusion, a dream. It is the consequence of a right relationship with the Peacemaker, with the God who would gather all nations, all humans, to himself. It is a challenge to Christians to renew their vigils for peace, their activities for peace, their concerns, their marches, their protests, however God gives them courage to advance the cause of peace grounded in God.

And Paul reminds us that salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. We have the opportune time to move from darkness to light, to put off and put away all waywardness and distraction, to let all things old be covered by forgiveness, and to put on the Lord Jesus, to embrace all things new by celebrating the presence of the Advent Lord in word and song, in prayer and praise, in water, bread, and wine.

He is coming, to be sure. But before he comes in the hour of his glory, he comes into the hours of our lives, enabling us to cast off the works of darkness, to re-kindle faith and hope and love, and to wait without worry or fear.David C. Yagow, Deputy Provost, Pacific Lutheran University, Tacoma, Washington

Preaching Helps for The First Sunday In Advent — 1986 (second study)

They were only doing the ordinary things of life—eating, drinking, marrying and giving in marriage. The Gospel does not suggest they were living lives in gluttony, drunkenness, and free love. But their problem—and the one we are being urged to avoid by another Advent—is the doing of life's ordinary things without the overtone of the extraordinary.

There was a flood—the waters above the heavens and the water beneath the heavens were about to be joined once again in terrible destruction; they knew nothing about it. There was an ark being built wherein eight souls were to be saved; they knew nothing about it, most of them. Those nearest the construction site were aware enough to jeer; but they did not know the way of life. Whatever kind of narrow gang plank Noah built to the door of the ark, that was the narrow way of life.

The lessons combine on Advent I to urge us to walk the way of life. The Old Testament lesson urges us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of God: "He will teach us his ways so that we may walk in his paths." "Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord." The Psalm rejoices with those who say, "Let us go to the house of the Lord." The Second Lesson continues the description in terms of darkness and light. The deeds of darkness are those ordinary things of life distorted into what sin has made the all-too-usual: "orgies and drunkenness, sexual immorality and debauchery, dissension and jealousy." More to the immediate problem most of us face is the warning that life lived like that is life lived slumbering. Darkness and light—God made them both and divided between them. There is nothing wrong with darkness that a little light can't correct. And slumbering is good, too, in its time and place-God gives his beloved sleep. But life lived slumbering . . . think of the news stories of people who have been in a coma for weeks, months, even years. That is not life, we say. And God is reminding us in Advent that life lived without the awareness of the Light of the world which lightens every one who comes into the world, life lived out in doing the ordinary things without an awareness of the extraordinary, is not life either.

Think of the extraordinaries that all too easily become commonplace to us. The people walking in darkness have seen a great light! There is a way, a way of holiness, and God's fools will not stumble walking on it. There is an ark, the Church, floating on the waters of baptism, and that water has washed away our filth and sin and purified our consciences before God. There are new heavens and new earth in the creative mind of God about to be built, where there is no need of a candle nor of the sun, for the Son of God is the light thereof. There is Father-Son-Holy Spirit coming to us and dwelling with us and making an abode within us. Think of it- remember what we never want to forget, even as our Lord gives us himself in the bread and wine that we might remember*

Lest this all come through as simply an admonition to positive living, it is perhaps good that our Lord uses the analogy of a thief breaking into a house at night. It is doubtless needful for us that our Lord couches his warning in apocalyptic imagery and spells out in later verses what the master will do to his unfaithful servant —"cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth" (v.51).

But for those whom God has chosen, those for whom "he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other" (v.31), the pertinent analogy to urge us on to living the ordinary extraordinarily would be clothed in positive comparisons. If you had known that the ice cream man was going to come by at two-thirty, you would have gotten your nap over in a hurry instead of refusing to go up to bed after lunch. If you had known that the eccentric millionaire was going to be giving away hundred dollar bills in the shopping center, you would have been down there getting your chores completed long before the place was crowded with last minute housewives.

We wait for our Lord, our King, our Brother, our Savior! A Maryland saint, now in the glory, used to say about his own intense practice of the awareness of "the soon coming of the Lord": "When he came for the first time there were only a few sleepy shepherds and Mary and Joseph to welcome him. What a shame it will be if when he comes for the second time there are no more of us waiting to welcome him.

Still, what chance is there? For us all it is said,". . . when you least expect him." Does that really mean all? Or of all the Advent Christians waiting his soon coming, might there not be one or two? And might you and I be those one or two? Nor would we want to divide up the time, like allotting fifteen minutes for each Christian in a prayer vigil—it is not just that we want a welcoming committee on hand. We want to be there to welcome!

What chance do we have? It is the chance of the "one is taken and the other left-which is no chance at all, but the evidence of the gracious and unexplainable God who is gathering "my chosen ones." The Living Bible's paraphrase turns the thief analogy into more positive terms, but in the process almost turns the gospel into a process of works. "A man can prevent trouble from thieves by keeping watch for them; so you can avoid trouble by always being ready for my unannounced return." How do we avoid the trouble? Through him who has voided trouble. The Lord who will come is the Lord who came in the first place and whose angels revealed his coming to shepherds who were among God's chosen ones. It is the Lord who so loved the world that he came as the ice cream man cometh, not to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. He came as the eccentric who gives to all who will accept, as the Son of God who yet let himself be taken as if a thief by a crowd with swords and staves and lanterns ... and let himself be offered as a ransom for all the world . . . and God raised him from the dead!

So then, brothers and sisters, "you are not in darkness so that this day should surprise you like a thief. You are all sons of the light and sons of the day, daughters of the light and daughters of the day . . . But since we belong to the day, let us be self-controlled, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet. For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. He died for us so that, whether we are awake or asleep, we may live together with him. Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing" (I Thessalonians 5:4-11).

George W. Hoyer, Christ Seminary-Seminex, Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary

Berkeley, California