"What do you expect?" Sermon for 1 Advent
“What do you expect?”
Sermon for 1 Advent 2018
Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem
The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith
Grace and peace to you from God our
Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
One morning
here at Redeemer church, our church receptionist called my office from the
front desk to say, “Assisseh, there is a woman here who needs some help. Can
you come?”
So I put
aside my sermon writing for a moment and went out to greet the unexpected visitor.
I started to introduce myself, but as soon as the words left my lips, she
launched into her own introduction, which was fast and loud and would have
filled several pages had it been written down.
She was from
Argentina. She was very happy to be in Jerusalem. It was her first time
in the Holy Land. She loved Jesus—very much. She wanted to arrange a Catholic
Mass at Redeemer Church for her large group of pilgrims.
And, she was
quite eager to add, her priest, Fr. Gustavo, is a personal friend of Pope
Francis.
And with
that, she stopped to take a breath, and looked at me with bright-eyed anticipation.
I could tell she expected that last comment would seal the deal.
“That’s
great!” I replied. “Of course, you can have a church service here.”
“But...you
know this is a Lutheran Church, right?”
As these
words sunk in, I watched her face fall and her eyes fill up with tears.
“Lutheran? Oh
no!”
“But the
priests at the Holy Sepulcher yelled at me and said to get out! No reservation,
no Mass. Only the Greeks were nice to me, and they said to come here!”
And then her
next words came out with little sobs: “Lutheran! Now what will I do?”
I looked at our
receptionist, and then back to the crying woman.
“Come with
me,” I said.
I took her
arm and accompanied her out of the church, around the corner, and down the Via
Dolorosa, until we reached the (not-Lutheran) Ecce Homo Convent.
“Can you help my new friend to schedule a Catholic
Mass here?” I asked their front desk receptionist.
Of course,
she was more than happy to help, and was immediately busy making arrangements. Our
visitor from Argentina was already talking a mile a minute about her group, and
about the priests at the Holy Sepulcher, and of course about Fr. Gustavo—who, you
may have heard, is a personal friend of Pope Francis.
I stepped
outside the Convent, but when I was almost out of earshot, I heard the woman exclaim,
“You know, I
asked God to send me an angel, but I didn’t expect a Lutheran one!”
Dear
friends, today marks the beginning of Advent, the season of expectation. Each
year the church takes this 4-week journey together, waiting in hope for
Christmas as well as for the second coming of Christ Jesus, the Living Lord. During
these weeks before Christmas we sing songs of expectation, and light candles in
expectation, and pray prayers of expectation. We decorate trees and hang lights
and prepare food in expectation.
Which all
begs the question: What do we expect?
Be alert,
says Jesus. Be on guard.
But for
what?
What are we
expecting? Do we expect anything at all?
Some days,
it feels we can’t expect much.
I admit that
my expectations of elected leaders are pretty low these days. It feels like a
good day, for example, when the president of my home country doesn’t say (or
tweet) something overtly racist or sexist or xenophobic.
The same
could be said about my expectations for the peace process here in Palestine and
Israel. At the St. Andrew’s Day celebration at the Scottish Church Thursday
evening, I spoke with a diplomat who painted a picture of impending doom for
the two-state solution—which, to be fair, is not really news. In recent months,
however, people seem to say the word “Oslo” with a wistfulness as if Norway
itself had ceased to exist. The days when a viable Palestinian state was
something to be expected in our lifetime now seem like a dream.
On the other
hand, what we probably can expect, based on recent weather patterns, is extreme
cold or extreme snow or extreme heat (and probably all of the above) during the
next year, as our planet continues to show symptoms of the disease of climate
change—even as many continue to ignore the signs.
And here we are,
beginning the season of expectation.
As we decorate
the trees, light the candles, and sing the songs of Advent, are we just going
through the motions, or do we truly expect something of ourselves, of the
world, of God?
In today’s
Gospel reading, Jesus tells the disciples exactly what to expect. First,
he says, we can expect some turmoil:
“There will
be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among
nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint
from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of
the heavens will be shaken.” (Luke 21:25-26)
But then—Jesus
says we can expect something else:
“Then they
will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.” (Luke
21:27)
In other
words: yes, the world is a mess—and Jesus is coming again soon.
Yes, humans continue
to worship empire and seek power over others—and the kingdom of love,
peace, and dignity is near.
Yes, creation
itself is wounded by human greed and excess—and the redemption of the
world, and of all our messes, is on its way.
What can we
expect? We can expect that Jesus,
the Son of
Man,
Prince of
Peace,
Our
Morningstar,
Will not
leave us abandoned,
Will not let
the story end this way.
Jesus is coming
soon!
And Love,
says Jesus, is what you can expect. AMEN!
I really
want to believe this. And most days I do! I mean, I wouldn’t be a pastor of the
church if the hope of redemption and love and peace for all people and all of
the cosmos didn’t live in my heart.
But it is
tough sometimes, isn’t it? It’s much more reasonable to expect that things will
remain the same, that people will continue to be terrible, that the wall will
continue to stand, that justice will never be born—in Palestine, or anywhere
else.
And yet,
Jesus says: “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power
and great glory.”
Scripture tell us Jesus is coming! The Kingdom is coming! God’s
peace and justice, redemption and reconciliation are on the way!
But just how
do we believe it, how do we trust it, how do we keep expecting love when the
world gives us every reason to expect otherwise?
The short
parable Jesus shares in today’s Gospel lesson gives us a hint. Jesus says:
“Look at the
fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for
yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these
things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”
Of course,
the cynic in me wants to say:
You know, sprouting leaves are signs of spring,
not summer.
In fact, sometimes sprouts are only signs that there’s another snowstorm,
or rainstorm, or a terrible springtime cold on the way. We know from experience
that when you see those first leaves growing, it can still be a long, long way
to summer!
And still,
says Jesus, look for the sprouts. Look for the green things. Look for
signs of life. Then draw near to the places and the people who are themselves
signs of the coming kingdom of God.
Dear
friends, this is what Advent is about. It’s an intentional time of noticing the
trees, of paying attention to the sprouts. Even though in our part of the world
this church season comes during the rainy season, still the church spends these
four weeks drawing near to God and to the seeds of life and love God has planted
in our midst.
We do this, because sometimes waiting joyfully and expecting hopefully comes easy.
And often it
doesn’t.
The world has a way of clouding our vision, of convincing us that the
manger will remain empty, and the stone will remain at the entrance to the
tomb, and the long dark night will never end.
And that’s
why we need Advent!
We need to gather
as a community,
And share
food,
And sing
hymns,
And hear the
words of the prophets,
And light
candles against the night.
We need to
pray.
And we need
to practice—practice seeing the trees.
Practice
noticing the sprouts.
We need to practice
expectation—so that the rest of the year, in every season, in times of joy and
times of sorrow, we will remember that we can joyfully expect Jesus to be born
again in our hearts, and can confidently expect the Kingdom of God to be born fully
into our broken world.
Let us pray:
Advent
Prayer
In our
secret yearnings
we wait for
your coming,
and in our
grinding despair
we doubt
that you will.
And in this
privileged place
we are
surrounded by witnesses who yearn more than do we
and by those
who despair more deeply than do we.
Look upon
your church and its pastors
in this
season of hope
which runs
so quickly to fatigue
and in this
season of yearning
which
becomes so easily quarrelsome.
Give us the
grace and the impatience
to wait for
your coming to the bottom of our toes,
to the edges
of our fingertips.
We do not
want our several worlds to end.
Come in your
power
and come in
your weakness
in any case
and make all
things new.
Amen.
― Walter
Brueggemann, Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann
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