Advent 1: "A Thrill of Hope"

Revised Common Lectionary First Sunday of Advent

GOSPEL

Mark 13:24–37

24 “But in those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,

and the moon will not give its light,

25and the stars will be falling from heaven,

and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

26 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 27 Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

28 “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

32 “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33 Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34 It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35 Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36 or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37 And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Our first hymn this morning, O Holy Night, is a text of foreshadowing. We enter into the Season of Advent today and, as such, we set our eyes on the hope of that Holy Night when Christ was born. We are a people far off from it, but we can catch a glimmer of the star and we will set out over these next four weeks to follow the star, to pursue the hope that has begun to dawn as we expect the arrival of Christ.

This year, we will use the hymn, O Holy Night, as a guide and springboard into our studies. It is only fitting that we approach the waiting of Advent with the line ringing in our minds: “The Weary World Rejoices.” We are weary, the world is weary. And yet we, as a people who find our hope and salvation in Christ, must ask the question: What does it look like for a weary world to rejoice? Is it even possible? Rejoicing amidst so much sadness, so many people dying from disease, so many lives turned upside down by economic turmoil, so many lives lost to hatred and racism.

What does it look like for a Weary World to Rejoice? This is the question that the Church is challenged with acting out an answer for. This is our calling. Not to proclaim that all is right and tied up like a nice Christmas bow. But rather, the calling is to proclaim hope to a world that is hurting, to find the capacity to rejoice amidst the sorrow. Never do we obscure the sorrow or pain, but rather, we hold hope through it.

This sounds impossible. It is. It is impossible to stay awake when the cries of our sadness overwhelm our bodies and we want to sink into a long winter’s nap, to sleep, to be numb to the pain, to let go of hope. It is impossible. And yet, in the Season of Advent, we are invited to embrace the impossible.

We look forward to the hope of Christmas with the impossible in mind: A world weary from taxation and oppression by the empire, finds a Messiah. A young, unwed mother, a potential outcast of society, finds a family and gives birth to a Savior. A troupe of astrologers, magi, wizards of sorts, finds truth in discovering the child who would unite all peoples, across land and sea, across religious and cultural traditions, at the site of the star.

We, the weary world, proclaim hope today in the face of all that is seemingly impossible.

The line from O Holy Night we hold onto today, as a weary world, is the invitation to “the thrill of hope.”

Do you know what that thrill of hope feels like? Even in the sadness, the darkness? That is what we cling to today.

I hope you’ll indulge me with what I deem some of the best modern examples of that thrill of hope, found in some of the most popular movies of the last few years. (A quick note, Spoiler alert here…but if you haven’t seen these movies yet, I’m sorry.)

Three blockbuster movies gave us the thrill of hope these last few years.

First, there is the climactic scene in Avengers: Endgame. The Marvel superheroes are beaten down by the big bad Thanos. Hope is dying. They are wounded, weary from the fight. And then, out of the sky, as portals begin to open up and through them, fly reinforcements. Legions of warriors from Wakanda, the home of the Black Panther, arrive. Superheroes we thought were dead reemerge to join the fight. The Guardians of the Galaxy fly in along with the army of Asgaard, Spider-man, Captain Marvel, and a whole host of allies in the fight. The thrill of seeing these characters emerge on the screen is epic.

Then, there is the scene at the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. As the evil wizard Lord Voldemort and his army assail the wails of Hogwarts castle, the team of students and the Order of the Phoenix lift their wands in unity to stand against the darkness. They raise their wands and begin to erect a shield around the castle, protecting from the powers of evil and standing in unity. They are out numbered, but their hope is lifted up as one people.

Finally, and of course, I’m sure you saw this coming, there is the climactic scene at the end of The Rise of Skywalker, the final Star Wars movie, released last Christmas. Facing the innumerable ships of the Final Order, hope is so very lost for the Resistance fighters. They are stranded on the planet Xogol with a handful of ships and no leaders. The battle rages over the planet and it is clear they are going to lose. Then, out of the void, a hodge-podge group of starships begin to drop out of hyperspace! There are ships from all over the galaxy — all united to come and fight for the Resistance! The best part of this scene is when we hear Lando Calrissian cry out over the radio of the Millenium Falcon and we see him and Chewbacca streaming ahead from the cockpit of the ship! Hope has arrived.

Hope is thrilling!

Hope wakes up.

Hope stands in the face of the weary, sorrow world, and tells a better story.

Let’s turn to our Mark text, where we hear the invitation to that Thrill of Hope.

Hear again the open words of our Gospel reading:

Revised Common Lectionary First Sunday of Advent

24 “But in those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,

and the moon will not give its light,

25and the stars will be falling from heaven,

and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

26 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 27 Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

Those climactic movie scenes are tugging on a deep desire within us for a moment like we hear about from Mark: the sun is dark, the moon is not giving light. And through it, the Son of Man arrives!

What the directors of blockbuster films like the Avengers, Harry Potter, or Star Wars tug on in us is the hope that such an arrival can take place. That hope can emerge from the darkness.

We go on in our text...

Throughout the Gospels, Jesus speaks frequently of the Fig Tree, a parable for the health and flourishing of God’s people. Oftentimes, the fig tree is struck down and cursed because God’s people have turned away. But in today’s text, we see that that fig tree’s branches are becoming tender and new growth is coming. Jesus says,

Revised Common Lectionary First Sunday of Advent

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.

The tender buds of hope are beginning to emerge. So it is time to ready ourselves.

It can be easy for us to slip into a mode during Advent that says we simply are depriving ourselves of all the hubbub of a preemptive celebration of Christmas. We hold off on too many joyous celebrations because…well, it’s just not time yet.

But remember what its like to see a branch begin to emerge with new buds…you start getting ready, it’s exciting, it means there is hope for a new year. Or think of the child who sees the presents begin to gather under the tree. They don’t think “well, I’ll just deny myself and not pay any attention to what those wrapped items might mean!” NO! They get all up in there and want to predict, they hold hope, they get so excited they can hardly contain themselves. They know it isn’t time yet, but it sure is exciting to wonder at what might emerge from those wrappings.

This is the central point of hope and the central point of Advent. In hope, we remember and anticipate all the ways God has been good to us in the past. We, like the child, trust that our loving God has good things in store for us, and we wait in hope together.

Advent, in this frame of mind, becomes a season of deep celebration. Not always in an outward, rising swell of joyous songs, at least not quite yet…but instead as a rise of deep inner reserves of gladness and longing. Hope starts to burn in us like the light of the candles and, as we fix it up on the hope of Christ, the hope only grows, the flame burning brighter and brighter as we get close to the Christ child’s birth.

It is in this context that Jesus’ admonishment to “Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come” makes great sense. The hope that begins to burn in us calls us to watchfulness, readiness.

My son Asher is in a fun stage of growth right now. One of the things I love watching him do is post up at the windowsill of our upstairs, which looks out at the street below. He will sit and watch and wait when he knows someone he loves is coming by to see him. Or when he sees friends playing out in the street, he can hardly contain his excitement and opens the window to call out, “Hey! Hi, I’m Asher!” It is his raw hope, his anticipation of what will be, that brings me such joy to witness.

And this is what Jesus is calling us to: a readiness, a watchfulness, a hope that the light will come, the dawn will break, the master will return.

In fact, Advent is about so much more than awaiting Christmas and the child’s birth. Advent has an apocalyptic facet to it: We wait for what will be revealed as the master returns home. We wait amidst all the pain of a pandemic and hold hope in the dawning of a new day as a people, united in new ways. We wait for God to reveal a new way forward in the pursuit of justice for all people.

I close with the last words from our Isaiah text today, reminding us that this hope is what we are all waiting for, what all people, ALL people are longing for...

Isaiah 64:5 lays out the scene: the people have walked in darkness, turned away, and in this, have lost sight of God.

The New Revised Standard Version Chapter 64

You meet those who gladly do right,

those who remember you in your ways.

But you were angry, and we sinned;

because you hid yourself we transgressed.

God is hidden, but hope remains. Isaiah 64:9 resonates out this hope, longing for God’s return...

The New Revised Standard Version Chapter 64

Do not be exceedingly angry, O LORD,

and do not remember iniquity forever.

Now consider, we are all your people.

We are all your people, O God.

We come before you in this season of Advent. We long to stay awake, to let the fire of hope burn and grow in us.

Come, Lord Jesus. We wait for you.

Amen.